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Archives from 2002-2006

For the last couple nights Dylan has slept from around 11:30 PM until 5 AM, and I am greatly pleased with this turn of events. It seems almost ridiculously greedy to try and eke more sleep out of him once I’ve fed him at 5 AM, but while on one hand I’m thinking yay, 5 AM! I am of course also thinking, jesus fuck, it’s only 5 AM.

He spends the majority of his night in the bassinet but after his wee-hour milkfest I tend to move him into the swing. The movement seems to lull him back to sleep faster, or perhaps the sheer g-forces of the thing flattens him into helpless immobility. My main criticism of our otherwise-beloved “Nature’s Touch” cradle swing aside from the beshitted 7-minute audio cutoff is the fact that the lowest movement setting is quite robust — it actually has like five more notches above this, which I can only assume is intended for launching your child into space when you’ve had all you can take of their goddamn fussing. During daylight hours the sight and sound of the swing rocking back and forth seems gentle enough, but for some reason in the dark of our silent bedroom it seems like it should come with several restraining straps and maybe a barf bag. When Dylan finally wakes up later in the morning I picture him desperately flailing for the Off switch like Maggie in her Swingamajig.

If all else fails sleepwise I take Dylan back to bed with me, where he forms a warm loaf on my chest. His little body, even in slumber, scootches upward until his head is pressed against my jaw, which makes me paranoid that his malleable Play-Doh skull will end up with a chin-shaped dent in it. He creates an oval-shaped sweaty spot on my chest while my back aches and eventually my trachea collapses thanks to the babysnout shoving into my neck, but I can definitely think of less pleasant ways to pass the time.

In the mornings when Riley comes galloping into our bedroom he makes the same announcement every time: “It’s Diwwan!” He turns to me with his five-foot-long eyelashes all fluttery with wonder. “It’s Diwwan, Mommy.” Like it’s a wonderful surprise, every single day.

If I were prone to panic attacks I would currently be having one over the fact that in less than a week we’ll be traveling seven hours to Oregon with both kids: one whose nutritional, entertainment, and hygienic needs require intervention on an unpredictable and often-frequent basis, and one who’s taken to moaning “I want to go hooooooooome” five seconds into a drive.

I am also finding myself greatly entertained by some recent commentary over at ParentDish about how people just can’t understand why Kids These Days are allowed to watch DVDs during road trips because back in their day they didn’t even have radio, by gum, they sang songs and played with rocks in the car and they were JUST FINE, except for the fact that they grew up to be, you know, kind of a sanctimonious dicktowel. I sure wish I could hire some of these bucolic song-singing folk to drive my toddler in a separate car, I bet they break down and whip out the Blue’s Clues videos in freaking Olympia.

I don’t know how we’re going to fit all of our stuff in the truck, except we HAVE to, because if you think I am bringing Dylan on a weeks-long visit anywhere without his swing you must be out of your damn mind. Oh, did I mention the “weeks-long” part? Yeah, this would be the trip where JB flies off to Asia for 10+ days and I stay back in Coos Bay with his parents. I like his parents, don’t get me wrong, but man oh man, this will be a long trip. The alternative, however, was staying at home and flying solo parenting-wise for the entirety of JB’s absence and STILL having to do the Oregon drive soon for visitation purposes, so I figured this would be, if not exactly an ideal situation, the least painful option.

We had planned to board Dog because 1) she’s old and long drives are hard on her, and 2) it’s kind of rude to bring your smelly Lab to someone else’s house for 10 days but all the local kennels are FULL next week. WTF. One lady told us it was because of spring break, which made me scratch my head because spring break? Isn’t that this week? Is spring break more than a week long now? Has MTV taught me NOTHING?

Anyway, I don’t know why I’m jumping the gun on stressing about this trip, except what the hell, maybe power-worrying burns calories. Hopefully I’ll work off enough so I can enjoy a decadent bowl of yogurt and cottage cheese later.

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