Friday, October 30, 2009

Dear other families on the hayride,

I would like to apologize for my son's nearly bowling your kids over on the way to the pumpkin patch. He likes pumpkins.

I'd also like to apologize for the fact that he immediately lost interest in the pumpkins in favor of the rocks, though I'd like to note that he is a collector of rocks (acorns, leaves, etc.) and not a thrower of rocks at others.

And also for the way he ruined several photographs by barrelling through the scene just as you were about to hit the button.

And further for making the rest of you sit on the tractor cart and wait until we 1. grabbed the pumpkins we wanted and 2. corralled our child, realizing that even though you had the time to swing a hayride in the middle of a Monday, you of course were in a big hurry to get to the next item on your busy schedules.

And also for making some of you scoot over to allow us to sit down for the ride back, as you appeared to have mistaken the tractor for a subway and us for straphangers. So very sorry especially that I had some desire to sit down while toting around an infant.

But mostly I'd like to apologize to the preteen in the sweatshirt and shaggy hair who slumped in one corner of the cart, his entire look saying "I can't believe my mom still drags me on this thing every year," because little does he realize that in 20 or so years he'll be right back here doing the same dorky Halloween thing with his kid, and he should enjoy his utter coolness while he can.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Mean thought at the OB's office

Is it so wrong, after months of sitting on hold, sitting and waiting in the office, waiting for callbacks from the nurses that never came, waiting to make an appointment and then finding out the computers were down, waiting to get HR paperwork filled out only to find that the staff lost it, and waiting for test results that were given to me via an automated voicemail system no matter how serious the results were, that while sitting and waiting -- once again -- to be seen at the six-week follow-up visit, kiddette started to wail and I had the fleeting desire to hand her a mike, kick back and let everyone else be annoyed for a change?

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

The Type A child vs. the happy sleeper

Truly it is amazing how very opposite these two kids are.

Firstborn kiddo was ready to go from minute 1. Full of energy. Always loud (to the point of scaring other children). Always alert. Always into everything. A favorite running joke at home: DH comes out of the bedroom, watches his son for a few minutes and says, "What did you feed him?" "Crystal meth," I say.

Eventually, of course, kiddo will start saying that himself and all the other parents will run away when they see us coming.

Now there's new little kiddette, who never met a nap she didn't like. Sometimes the exertion of napping tires her out so much she has to take a nap afterward. Other favorite running joke: Whenever she bothers to ascend into wakefulness, one of us will say to the other, "Look! She has eyes!"

It got to the point, in the hospital, where I made a lactation consultant come to the room and consult because I wasn't sure she was getting enough to eat. I'm thinking now she is, since the little pink newborn outfits fit her now, but I still wake her myself for feedings half the time.

Kiddo never missed a feeding. And four of his favorite words are "breakfast," "lunch," "dinner" and "snack."

Also, kiddette is noisy. She makes more odd sounds in her sleep than an 80-year-old lifetime smoker with a snoring problem. It's like she's making a loud and forceful argument about something or other (health care? the national deficit? who knows). Although occasionally it's just gas.

I think I can pretty well call their teenage years: Kiddo will bust through the door after practice for whatever five sports he'll be playing, eat everything in the fridge and run outside to do laps around the county. Kiddette will stroll in, cellphone attached to ear (and by then I assume we really will be able to attach cellphones to ears), assure us she's not hungry -- again -- and head upstairs, continuing the seven simultaneous conversations she's having while also texting five other people with the second cellphone permanently attached to her hand. And then she'll sleep for 10 hours.

Truly, she's making me nostalgic for my college years, when I'd come home at the end of the semester and sleep for a whole day or so. But that was after a semester of more or less not sleeping.

Which, come to think of it, is more or less what I'm doing now. Minus the beer and 8 a.m. lecture hall classes.

Oh, who am I kidding, peach schnapps and iced tea. I never drank beer in college.