Sturm Haus

I kind of overdid it Friday and yesterday.

So today I have been a lump on the couch.

It helps that it rained all day long, so I felt no guilt about doin' nothin'. Otto took a good 3-hour nap. I watched a lot of my DVRed shows (Ugly Betty!) and looked at random web sites. Jon made us a huge breakfast of fluffy pancakes and bacon, which stuck with me until about 4pm. A relaxing day.

Yesterday we got some work done on O's closet. He loves his new closet organizer/dresser and immediately began moving things into it (toys and t-shirts, mainly). Mom got me to sort a mountain of baby clothes. I have one laundry basket of things we're saving for the new baby -- the rest is going away. Which is OK as long as I don't think about it too much.

The other day on Flickr I was looking for a specific photo, so I searched my photos for "me" and came up with a bunch of random images, many of them of Otto as a baby. I love who he is now, his independence and sense of humor and big-boy abilities, but man -- he was a sweet baby. I held him a LOT and wish I could go back and hold him even more. These days you have to tackle him to get him to snuggle. The other night he asked me to 'nuggle with him at bedtime, and I laid on his bed next to him and watched him sleep for 15 minutes while I tried to remember the baby days and the weight of him in my hands, how his head used to fit on my shoulder. Now he's all arms and legs and grin. We're back to making popcorn about once a week as an evening treat, and the biggest treat of all is that he'll sit next to me on the couch for 20 minutes, tucked under my left arm and head against my shoulder, so that we can share the bowl while we watch Dancing with the Stars or whatever.

I find myself thinking "I'm so glad I get to have another one." And then wondering if two will be enough, or if I'll be craving another baby in another 2 or 3 years (shh... don't tell my husband).

For Mother's Day Otto's teachers interviewed each child about their mom. Here's his interview:

My mom's name is MOM

My mom is 2 DOLLARS years old.

My mom loves OTTO

My mom's favorite job is CLEANING CLOTHES

My mom's favorite book is ABOUT A STRAWBERRY

My mom's favorite TV show is FIRE ENGINE

My mom's favorite color is ALL COLORS!

My mom's favorite food is FRUIT

My mom's favorite thing to do is FINDING ME

My mom's best friend is OTTO

My mom's favorite present is FOOD

My mom loves me because I LOVE CANDY

(Actually, Otto, I love you because you're you. Though you're plenty sweet, too.)

The refrigerator, she is running again. It will be my husband's choice whether or not to ever divulge why it stopped running (and no, it had not been unplugged). But it was a simple fix, the kind of fix that made him feel silly. "And I think I'm mechanically inclined!" he said.

The problem might have been caused by a certain 3-yr old, though we can't prove anything. He's not talking. On the plus side, we now have the phone number of a really nice appliance repair guy. And have burned extra calories this week walking the extra 10 feet to the garage refrigerator. So that's a bonus.

I was at work until 9 last night, back at 8 this morning. I've met with my committee and answered email and worked on reports. It's time to go home again now. Closet-cleaning might be on the agenda. So might a nap. Or a trip to the nursery to ponder purchasing a lilac-on-a-stick tree.

feeling jaunty

When I got home tonight it was dinnertime, and Otto was about to settle down with a peanut butter sandwich. He decided he wanted to eat sitting in his stroller in the garage, though -- odd, but Jon was going with it. I went out to help get him settled in the seat while Jon put the cup in the cup holder and his sandwich on the tray.

While we were there, trying to figure out whether Otto actually wanted us to walk or just wanted to eat outside, Jake strolled through the open door from the kitchen into the garage.

This is something he just doesn't do. He doesn't like that door much, and knows that unless there's a leash involved it's probably not worth the trouble to walk past the spooky broom closet (brooms can fall out and attack, you know).

So I have my hands around Otto, lowering him into the seat, and Jon's just straightened up from putting the cup etc. down, and I spot Jake, casually wandering through the garage and onto the driveway.

And then he trotted across the street.

Calling him back does no good. He's never ever minded us when it comes to recall -- it's not in his nature. But he took his time sniffing the grass on the other side of the street until Jon and I could grab leashes and go after him.

We proceeded to take a very brisk walk, Jon keeping up with Jake, me pushing Otto in the stroller down the opposite sidewalk, Otto eating his sandwich. Jake kept Jon in sight, often stopping to sniff a convenient shrub if he ran too far ahead. When we got to the corner where we usually turn left towards the park, he and Jon went thataway, and I went straight. He was following our normal walk route and behaving quite nicely, leashless though he was. I figured I'd try to head him off at the pass -- take a shorter version of our route and catch him as he headed home.

I got to the corner and called to check on Jon, who by then was just a block north of us. I figured I'd try to tempt Jake with a corner of Otto's sandwich, if needed. Thankfully, Jake stopped for a second too long at a tree, and Jon snapped the leash on before he could take off again. Because Otto wasn't about to share his sandwich.

And then we all headed home. Otto ate the rest of his dinner, Jon and I got our exercise, and Jake? Well, he got to go for a walk.

The end.

ring ring

You know that silly prank phone call, the one where kids ask "Is your refrigerator running?"

They should've called us about 7am so I could go down and check, because ours isn't.

I spent a good half-hour this morning shuttling things out to the fridge/freezer in the garage. THANK GOD we have a fridge/freezer in the garage, yes, but STILL. I filled the garbage can with anything that looked unsaveable, plus a bunch of stuff I didn't feel deserved emergency fridge space. The garage fridge was running when I left, the indoor fridge was empty and sad and only slightly cool.

Otto heard me banging around downstairs and got worried that I wasn't going to bring him his cup of milk (sometimes we have breakfast in bed). He was OK after I apologized and told him the refrigerator was broken, that I had to move everything outside. He started saying "the REFRIGERATOR is broken? the refrigerator is BROKEN!" and laughing. Because it's funny (I guess).

Saying sorry is getting to be important in our house. So is expressing how we feel. This morning I handed Otto his toothbrush, and he told me he was "very very cross" because I laid it next to him instead of putting it in his hand. He's big on the whole "don't touch me!" thing right now, which makes dressing him fun most days. I'm using the old 1-2-3 warning system, as in "OK, kiddo, I'm going to count to three. If you haven't turned the TV off/climbed in your car seat/shut the door by the time I get to three, I'm going to do it for you." Works like a charm 90% of the time because he wants to Do It Himself.

I'm trying to make sense of budget stuff at work, get ready for our annual meeting, and plan summer reading and programs for adults. Lots of brain and phone work, when what I really need is a nice quiet stint of weeding or a long session with the review journals I've neglected this month. It's supposed to storm today. I hope it does, it might help me get focused again.

Mom is coming to stay with us this weekend, with the goal of kicking us into gear baby-wise. We have a lot of stuff to sort through, organizing and cleaning to do, washing and rearranging and planning. Most of it's related to how messy our day-to-day lives are and how behind we are on some tasks. There just isn't enough time. We rarely watch TV, so it's not that we're lazy couch potatoes. But keeping up with work and child and basic household chores keeps us busy enough that there never seems to be time for cleaning out the basement or hauling everything out of our closet to reorganize so that things fit properly. Or, heck, mopping the floors on a regular basis and getting the dog to the vet. I have no idea what we're going to do when we have two kids creating chaos. Well-meaning friends laugh evilly and say helpful things like "you know the work load increases exponentially. It's not 1+1=2, it's more like 1+1=20."

And then the refrigerator breaks, and I start to think I should just put caution tape across the front porch for awhile. Say, 5 years. Maybe 10.

So how about you? Is YOUR refrigerator running?

time flies

Sunday:
Our 3rd year attending A Day Out With Thomas in Greenfield Village... each year Otto likes something different, but the train ride itself is still the big draw. We arrived around 10 and left around 2, which seemed like just the right amount of time. The weather was gorgeous.

Wednesday:
Review with Otto's teacher. He's a "young 3" but seems to be holding his own with classmates. His social/emotional skills need work, ie: learning how to go find a teacher and describe why he's upset rather than have instant meltdowns if someone takes a toy or disses him. Academically and physically he's doing fine, even recognizes more than a third of the alphabet (upper and lower-case!). He's a visual learner, sensitive, and finds it easy to get lost in a task and forget about the world around him. Hmm... sounds eerily familiar.

Overall I feel better about him being there. He's been much happier since backing off the potty training thing. His teachers care and work hard to keep him involved in the class. I gather he's a challenging personality in the classroom, but he has many years of classrooms ahead of him, so the sooner we start figuring out how to help him adjust the better.

Wednesday night: OTTO EATS PASTA AND MEATBALLS FOR SUPPER and says "Mmm, this is good, Daddo," then asks for more. Jon almost cries.

Thursday:
Midwife appointment. Baby and I are doing well, still measuring a little ahead of the curve but not like last time. I think it's the positions she takes. This kid moves around a lot during the day -- sometimes I can breathe, sometimes I can't! We review my chart, and I went into labor the day after my due date last time. T says it's not a myth that second babies often come earlier, though it's not something you can plan on. We talk about hiring a doula, and I say "I'm not sure how I feel about it." I like the idea of staying home as along as I can, but once we hit the hospital we'll have a midwife to help. Even on the holiday weekend I'm due there will be someone on-call to labor with me. T is quiet a moment then shakes her head. "I think this baby will fly right out," she says. I leave feeling relieved and more certain of myself. I'd rather have a 20% chance of major abdominal surgery than a 100% certainty. Jon's with me, we're going for it.

 

Friday:
Took a vacation day to run errands, get a massage, take my car for an oil change, and meet my mom for lunch and baby shopping. We found some cute fabric at the fabric store, and mom's going to help me make a crib skirt and window valance. I'm picking red and white for the nursery this time -- Michigan cherries, Swedish gingham, cheerful and simple. I hope she likes it as well as Otto likes his room.

riding Thomas!

riding Thomas!,
originally uploaded by sturm95.

This is the most animated he's been for the camera in months.

He and I are moving a little slowly this morning after our busy weekend, but we had a great time. More pics soon -- tomorrow? -- I have a meeting tonight.

It's 7:30 and quiet except for the wind whistling around the house. We've been sleeping with the windows open this week, and I'm considering making a night-time raid on our neighbors' wind chimes. I know they're soothing and wonderful... if they're your own, and it's not blowing hard all night.

We have a busy weekend ahead. This afternoon is a birthday party for 2-yr old Alex, and we're going both to celebrate with him and so that his older sister has someone to play with and boss around (Otto is amenable to being bossed around by cute brunettes).

Last night I asked Otto what a good birthday present would be for another little boy like him, and he said "cars!" So Matchbox cars it is.

Tomorrow morning we're off to see Thomas the Tank Engine in REAL LIFE at Greenfield Village. The weather promises to be ugly, but that doesn't stop true train fans like us. We'll probably spend an hour in the round house anyway. And maybe if it rains the lines will be short so that we can get a snapshot with Sir Topham Hatt.

Otto is a language machine lately. He's getting kudos at school for being so "verbal." Jon and I just smile and nod, since we've known all along that he was fine, not behind on the developmental curve the way they worried. But it is fun to have conversations with him and listen to him chatter. And we're having to watch what we say, since he's now a word sponge and will repeat everything.

The other night he met me at the door with a pen and a pad of paper, asked me to follow him to the living room, and proceeded to write his name for me. His Os are a little shaky and his ts a little loopy, but he can indeed spell his name out loud and write the letters that make it up. Yay for short names! I think he's good with the alphabet in general -- he loves his flashcards -- and I've started pointing out words as we read his favorite books. Sharing reading with him is such fun for me, and I'm just thankful he enjoys it.

The baby continues to kick me and grow bigger, and I'm having more and more trouble getting comfortable in bed at night. Or at my desk during the day. Or in my car. You get the picture... Next week we start every-other-week appointments, and not long after that it'll be weekly. I've been looking at refresher birthing classes but haven't found anything good yet, and am wondering if it's really necessary anyway. Need to start practicing the relaxation exercises for hypnobirthing, though.

What with the birthday parties and trips to see Thomas and books to read, getting ready just doesn't feel as urgent as it did when I had Otto. And every day he's here as proof that we've done it before -- maybe not beautifully, but competently enough. Thanks to him, we know that what this baby will really need upon arrival isn't a perfect nursery or new gear. She'll just need us.

Thankfully, the last two days have gone better. While I was changing him Thursday night Otto told me that using the potty at school is about "following the rules." I said "Really? OK." Hopefully this little break can help us figure out how to make the leap from following rules, which is helpful to a point, to knowing when he needs to go and what to do about it. I'll re-read Sears and Brazelton this week for ideas.

I've decided that spring is the ultimate drug for Michiganders. Everyone in our subdivision has their windows open. You hear people laughing and talking well past dark, with lights on in living rooms until midnight. Dogs I'd swear I've never seen before are getting walked twice a day. Spontaneous backyard parties pop up as people rediscover their decks, and everyone seems to be doing yard work or starting a new home improvement project. I don't think happy pills in the water supply could have a more dramatic effect.

Yesterday I got home and there was a miniature parade heading down the street to the neighborhood playground. Otto was riding his trike, Noah was driving his miniature Chevy Silverado with his little sister riding shotgun, and Chris and Ryan were on scooters. We ended up spending a good hour or so at the park getting caught up with our neighbors while the kids chased each other around.

Otto finally allowed Noah to give him a ride. Last summer he was fascinated by Noah's truck, but wouldn't sit in it let alone let Noah drive him around. As the passenger last night he was in charge of communications and kept talking into the little CB radio. Noah's quite the showboat driver for a 5 year old, and Otto laughed and laughed while bouncing over the ground at 5 mph. We got home late, sunburned and sweaty and dusty, and fell asleep almost before our heads hit their respective pillows.

Today we've been busy running errands - haircuts for the boys, hazardous waste to the recycling place, returning bottles for deposits, etc. Tonight I think we'll go have dinner with Grandma.

Tomorrow I want to go to yoga, though it means missing church, and some housecleaning definitely needs to get done. And with two months, 17 days to go until the baby's arrival (or at least her due date), we'd better do some baby work. Like getting the room somewhat ready (though she'll sleep in the co-sleeper and get changed on our bathroom counter for the first couple of months). And picking a name -- a name would be a good thing to have before we go to the hospital. I browsed Borders for a bit on Wednesday, looking for a new potty training book (no luck) and a new name book (picked the Baby Name Wizard).

But who wants to do homework of any sort when it's 70 and sunny outside?

About a week and a half ago, something changed at day care. I don't know what. But O has been acting out much more than usual.

Last Wednesday night he came home with 5 plastic grocery bags, each of which contained urine-soaked clothes, including his shoes. Jon said they'd had a really bad day, that he needed a couple of time outs and that it'd been rough. Bad days happen, at home and at school, and as long as it's one bad day here and there it doesn't worry me much.

Thursday morning I dropped him off, and before I could ask for myself what had happened his teacher said (with a cheerful little laugh), "I know we're making a lot of laundry for you, mom, but we're making progress on potty training!" Which immediately shut down my ability to voice a concern, since my concern would obviously come from being lazy and not wanting to do laundry. Thursday was a short day, he had a doctor's appointment, and he still came home with two sets of dirty clothing.

Friday morning I walked in, said to the teacher available "I brought 3 pairs of rubber pants with his training pants, I want him to wear them all the time. If he's soaking himself to his shoes 4 times a day, he's not getting it and he needs the rubber pants." She nodded and agreed.

Friday went a little better. Monday seemed to go OK. Neither day was accident free, but it wasn't blow-out city either.

Tuesday night I picked him up and there were 4 more bags waiting for me. I went in to see the owner (by the time I can get there to pick him up his teachers are long gone), and explained both that I didn't think this was working, and that I didn't understand why they weren't using his rubber pants all the time. She promised to look into it.

We got home that evening and Otto had the mother of all meltdowns, ending with locking himself in the bathroom and wetting his pants. It took me 5 or 10 minutes to get him to calm down enough to let me touch him and help him change.

You can tell me that he's 3, and challenging, and willful and stubborn and all of that, and you would be right. It's his job right now. But his dad and I don't believe that public humiliation in the form of letting a child wet himself multiple times a day in front of his classmates is any way to teach. The end point is, he has to know when to use the bathroom by feeling the urge to go. If he can't do that yet, then this is all pointless. Which is when I really get upset.

I am, at the moment, a big raw walking nerve ending. Hormonally-challenged would be putting it nicely. Jon and I talked it over Tuesday night on the phone and agreed on what we wanted them to do, but I couldn't face going in to day care and talking to the "making me do laundry" teacher by myself. All I would've done is stand in the office sobbing, which is a great way to boost my authority and inspire confidence in my child. So I took the coward's way out and kept him home.

And yes, I'm also researching difference child care centers. We toured a Montessori place yesterday (interesting), and I'm trying to get in to see the center at a local university. Switching him immediately isn't practical, though, and I do believe in trying to work things through. If they'll listen to us and make some changes, things might turn out OK.

Today Jon dropped O off (I had an early drs appt), talked to the manager (who had already talked to the teacher on my behalf), and everyone has agreed to take a couple of weeks off the whole potty training thing. They've had him on their regimen for 9 months now, it's clearly not working, and I want them to back off long enough for us to figure something out ourselves.

I'd also like to know what changed last week and getting information has been difficult. We'll schedule a conference with the teacher and the owner in a week or so to talk things over. Maybe by then I'll be more coherent and less emotional. That would be nice!

In better news, it seems my thyroid is keeping up with the pregnancy just fine. Only one more visit with the endocrinologist before I deliver. It'll be nice to be back to annual visits, instead of every other month. I forgot about renewing my referral for this appointment until 3am on Wednesday morning, and of course you can't call for a referral at 3am. So I got up and wrote myself a big post it note and put it on my mirror, then laid sleeplessly in bed trying not to think about having to reschedule because I have swiss cheese for brains. Slotting into a specialist's schedule is like stuffing in that wafer-thin mint at the end of a huge meal. Thankfully my awesome drs office got it done in time and I was saved.

quickly

This morning Otto insisted Grandma be the one to take him to school, where he proudly led her to his coat hook and then to his classroom so she could meet his teachers. No fussing, no guilt trips, no last-minute demands for Puppy or a train or a book to take along. Sometimes life as a mom just isn't fair.

I realize he doesn't understand the concept of "baby" and has no idea that a major life change is on the horizon. But lately he's giving me a hard time, and I think he knows there's something going on. Something that makes me less reliable, beyond the usual pregnancy-brain issues.

At least, this is what I'm telling myself. It's either that or I need the Supernanny to intervene, and I like to think I'm not that desperate yet.

We had a great weekend with my in-laws, who made the long drive from Iowa to see us. Makes me wish we could compress distance by pinching roads together or something else equally sci-fi. I did not take any pictures. Again. I am lame.

And yesterday work was a zoo. I was locked in my office all day, finishing my tasks for the monthly meeting. Around 4 I went downstairs to check in with staff and take a break. I got to the circulation desk and was immediately swarmed.

D - I can't find cut-rate hand wipes at the grocery anymore, what are we going to do? Should we pay more? Should we send someone to the dollar store?

J - Hey! Did you see the news? Microsoft's new operating system got hacked! You have to watch for articles tonight, I think they're trying to kill the story!

A - If you're going downtown anyway, could you get me a sandwich? And D, do you want anything? Yes? OK, what do you want?

F - Someone brought back some books and they really smell like smoke. I wiped them off (with the wipes we're almost out of) and they still smell. Do we have any plastic bags and dryer sheets?

They were all talking at once, bless them, and I sort of managed to pay attention and answer appropriately while I wondered that they didn't seem to notice each other or the fact that 3 other people were trying to engage me in conversation. I left a few minutes later to take my break, sort of mentally shaking my head. I can spend hours at the desk on other days and get hardly any interaction at all, but if I'm absorbed in something else, whoa Nellie! Scarcity makes me popular. Just think how they'll feel after I'm on leave for 3 months.

I got home late, to my rebellious boy who refuses to do anything for me lately, and bedtime was no fun. But we got through it, and when he went to bed he was clean and wearing pajamas.

Oy. I'm tired.