Nov
26
Taking a break from packing to post this
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In a few hours we’re piling in the truck and heading down to Eugene, where we’re staying the night. Tomorrow we’re having Thanksgiving dinner at JB’s brother’s fiancee’s parents’ house, which is . . . a first, but it’ll be nice to meet them before the wedding in January. I am very much hoping the kids will be in good moods and that no one barfs on anyone’s fancy sofa.
After that, we’ll drive down to Coos Bay to JB’s parents’ and stay there through the weekend, before making the long-ass trek back home. Thankfully, Christmas is at our house this year so NO SEVEN HOUR ROAD TRIPS IN DECEMBER YAY.
What are you doing for Thanksgiving? I know, it’s kind of an unoriginal question, but I always enjoy hearing about your plans.
PS: Some silly recent video, set to the tunes of Fatboy Slim:
Nov
25
Milking it
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Dylan has been sleeping better the last few nights — he’s back to waking up just once or twice during the night, which compared to the multi-hour screamfests I will gladly take. Oh, I had grand ideas of getting him to sleep through the night with no interruptions at one point, but there’s nothing quite like comparison to get you on board with compromise.
Everything I read says he shouldn’t physically need a bottle in the middle of the night, and there’s the question of whether or not I’m creating a very bad habit of him 1) wanting a bottle to soothe himself back to sleep, 2) learning to be hungry in the middle of the night, and 3) continuing his broken sleep pattern by waking up his body with digestive processes and so on (that sounds weird but makes sense: our bodies are designed to be restful in the middle of the night, and eating switches on these bodily functions that are normally supposed to be chilling out), but on the few times I’ve tried to cut back on the milk he lies there afterwards howling in fury and he DOES. NOT. STOP.
I’m cutting my losses, though. One or at most two trips in there to plug his snoot with a bottle is survivable, while listening to him blat away for three-quarters of the night is not.
Speaking of milk, in February we can transition away from the beshitted formula, and I cannot wait. It stinks, I’m sick of mixing it, I hate the stupid container (have you seen this hilarious thing on their website? Warning: OBNOXIOUS TY PENNINGTON AUDIO) which is supposed to somehow make my whole life easier but comes with a foil lid that takes like half an hour to peel off, and most of all it’s been creating a year-long Similac-shaped dent in our budget and I would like to fill that space with, say, shoes.
(Quick recap for anyone new: breastfeeding was not an option for me, so no need to remind me of the cheaper alternative, mmkay?)
In our daycare if you are providing milk for an infant you have to send in filled bottles with the specific amount you think they’ll eat — for safety purposes they won’t mix anything up, nor will they keep anything left in the bottle. Over the months I’m sure this has resulted in a LOT of wasted formula, as I’ve tried to guess how many feedings Dylan will want, especially when he was younger and drank more often but ate unpredictable amounts each time.
In addition to the money we’ll save by buying regular milk instead of powdered heroin, or whatever it is, expenses will go down even more when Dylan’s a year old or so and moves out of the uber-expensive infant room at daycare into the ‘woddler’ room, so come on 2009! Mama needs a new pair of . . . okay, fine, Mama needs to contribute to her kids’ 529 plans and pay off the credit card. Bah.
In the meantime, we’re augmenting his bottles with the occasional cup of creamer-enriched extra-strong coffee. Wait, you think this has something to do with the not-sleeping thing?
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