分类: - The Bed Rest Book Club

Halloweek

10/25/2010

Today, we dress like a baby vampire.

Well, Scotty will (I'm not.) And it just begins a full week of celebrating Halloween.

(For the record, I'm totally understanding why people invented holidays; it's really fun for your kids! [I am sure this is the only reason why holidays exist.] I am so looking forward to all of this dressing up, event-worthy activity. Pre-kids, it was always like, "Well, yeah, we should dress up...but let's not. Let's just go buy a pumpkin." Now, I've been planning and thinking about Halloween since August. And then right around the corner is Thanksgiving! And then Christmas! Holiday bonanza! I can barely wrap my mind around paper turkey-hand-cut-outs and now you're telling me I have to trim a tree?)

Anyways...last week at music class, the teacher said the kids can come in their costumes for today's lesson. Sweet! Break out the baby vampire costume six days early. The weather is cooperating and let's just hope Scotty does too. I'll try to post pictures of it later.

Later this week, at preschool (more on that later), a friend is hosting yet another kiddie Halloween party. On Saturday, Brian and I will be attending an adults-only Halloween party (read: it starts after 7pm) and I have my Sookie Stackhouse costume ready to go (and Brian's 'Fellowship of the Sun' T-shirt is clean and on a hanger). On the actual day of Halloween, we are planning to go to an outdoor mall where they have trick-or-treating for the kids and fun activities (the same site of the Easter Day Egg Hunt Massacre). After that, we'll race home for Brian and the Bear do a little trick-or-treating in our new neighborhood (Scotty is going to be so excited to push all of these doorbells) while I man our house.

Then...we'll hang up his little black tux with the red collar and cape. For good. It's tough to be a baby vampire, no? So many social engagements.

The Great Pumpkin (Bear)

10/18/2010

Ahh, that time of year again.

The time you don your jeweled-tone fall sweater, wrap a cashmere scarf around your neck, and sip hot cider while the leaves slowly drift into large piles in the autumn breeze.

Except, of course, if you live in Las Vegas.

Than, more than likely, you slap on the sunscreen, crank up the AC and drive 30 miles to a makeshift patch where, yes, the pumpkins are imported.

It's about as faux as everything else is in this town, but I guess that's what we get for living in the desert. (Thank you Hoover Dam for making life possible out here).

I am a little sad that our idea of fall is not nearly as cool as it is in the Midwest (both literally and figuratively), but I keep telling myself, "February...February...wait until February when it's 60 degrees and sunny here and everyone in the Midwest is going on their 40th-straight day without the sun and all of the snow has turned into that slushy, brown stuff."

And on Saturday, Brian and I loaded the Bear into the car and headed north to the only known orchard in Clark County. I was really striving for some level of authenticity since I reject those pop-up pumpkin patches that materialize in open lots as soon as the calendar hits October 1. (and if you have no idea what the previous sentence means, it's kind of like a Christmas tree lot but with pumpkins. And dirt.) The temperature was creeping north of 90 degrees, making it tough to feel autumnal or even 'harvest-y.' (if that's even a word).

But we forged ahead. We first stopped at this little farm, aptly called "The Farm," where they offer pony rides, carriage rides, a petting zoo, the largest, scariest rabbits I've ever seen lounging in cages, and of course, pumpkins. I'm not sure if these were imported pumpkins, but at that point, I wasn't going to argue semantics. (I didn't see a pumpkin field so...).

Scotty let us know he had absolutely no interest in the horses, despite my coaxing...

The Bear and the world's smallest horse

...but he did seem to enjoy the carriage ride.

Mayor Bear

He treated it like his own personal parade and took great enjoyment in waving to all of his constituents.

Picking out pumpkins with an opinionated, mobile Bear was much different that the pumpkin-selection of last year. Previously, we literally just propped Scotty against a couple of pumpkins and went about our pumpkin-picking-process in our own way. This year, someone else (::cough, cough::) wanted to chime in, too. And it was tough for the three of us to be in agreement.

Hmm...this one has good color...

...but this one has a nice shape to it.

I want the big one!

In the end, Scotty deferred to Da-da's good judgment.

Help! People are mistaking me for a pumpkin in this shirt!

(Scotty's down to about 30% crawling, meaning he's on his little legs and feet the rest of the time. He's starting to lose his drunken-sailor gait and is carrying his arms closer to his sides when he walks. He looks like a (::sniff::) real boy.)

And by this point in the day, we were all sweating like pigs. Like really big razorback pigs that lived in the petting zoo area.

Petting Zoo Bear

I paid for the pumpkins while Brian and Scotty petted the farm cat, and I'm not going to lie, I was a little bummed I missed the cat.

And we trudged on, despite the heat, and eventually made it to the actual orchard. We managed to snag two pints of apple cider before calling it a day (literally, it was like 95 degrees - or felt like it). Despite having walked only three steps into the row of trees, Scotty's sunscreen had all but melted off and Brian and I were dying of thirst. I was also cursing out both Mother Nature and Sarah Palin for this unseasonably warm weather. Irrational, yes, but it felt necessary. So...game over.

We stopped at our favorite bakery before heading home and in my heat-induced psychosis, I purchases 12 cupcakes. Not great for the diet, but really good for my mental health. And before you get all 'What about Weigh-In Wednesday?' on me, I would like to say that I have eaten two, forced the baby-sitter to eat one, and frozen the other nine. See? Progress.

Finally, before I end, I just want to post this picture, too: Scotty, like most babies, loves anything mechanical/technical, and my camera is absolutely fascinating to him. He managed to set the timer (something I don't know how to do) and snap this self-portrait of himself. Classic Bear.

Absence Really Does Make the Heart Grow Fonder

10/15/2010

I need to start off by saying: yes, I know, I complain about staying at home. A lot.

It's not that I don't like it; I do and I am very grateful for the opportunity to do so. I believe it's in the best interest of our little Bear and I am very appreciative that we are able to work out this arrangement. Big props goes to the Hubs for working his tail off to make this possible.

But...big but. It's lonely. It's boring. It's downright maddening at times, especially when you are alone with a child for 20+ hours a day, five days a week. And it's not like I'm some social butterfly; I am very happy to spend some quality Kim time, just reading or cleaning. I don't need constant interaction with other (ack!) but staying at home with a child (or children...double ack!) can really suck the life out of you. It's required me to find patience I didn't know I have and learn to really appreciate the exquisite joy of bedtime. Ahhh, bedtime...

Anyways, I was really hitting a low earlier this week. The new nap routine, the fussy Bear, and the heat (back up to 90! It's MID-OCTOBER, people) have all combined to make an irritable me. And on Wednesday, as we waited over an hour to be seated for Brian's birthday dinner, I was not in a good place. The clock was creeping closer to 7pm (waaaay later than the Bear should be up) and we had yet to even get a table. The snotty 17-year old hostess wasn't budging, despite Brian's rather vocal concerns, and this left me alone to follow Scotty around as he toddled outside the restaurant.

He was insistent on heading straight to the parking lot. Nothing in the courtyard was remotely interesting to him. The flowers, the benches, the rocks...heck, even the other kids: nope, he wanted to walk straight into on-coming traffic. And so I did the Mom-thing and walked about 6 inches behind him and when he got close to the curb, I turned him around. Except he wasn't that easily redirected; he didn't just turn around and start toddling in the other direction like a little toy car. He turned back around and continued toward the parking lot. I had to literally pick him up and carry him back to safety.

And every time I did this, he turned into Wet Noodle Baby, going completely limp in my arms and then fighting like a jungle cat by pushing away from my body and frantically kicking me in the stomach.

Yay, Toddlerville.

And this only happened about 6 times. All with people watching me carry my screaming, fighting child back to the bench.

Anyways, yesterday, I was ready for a break. Brian had plans to have dinner with a friend, leaving me with said Bear for the entire day. I wasn't sure I was going to make it that long, so I played the gym card; i.e. I drop Scotty off at the gym daycare while I squeeze in a workout. I get some exercise, he has a change of scenery and the two of us get a break from each other for a solid hour. Sounded like a plan.

Now, as I'm mentioned in other posts, I hate the gym daycare. These people have zero passion for their jobs and the whole place is a shrieking, germ-covered nightmare. But it was only an hour and Scotty needs to be exposed to other kids, I reasoned. What could go wrong?

Now that he is walking, he moved up to the Toddler area. Since this was new to me, I asked the rather unenthusiastic 18-year old working the front desk to please show me the area. She consented begrudgingly and opened the sixty-four security doors to let me in. Clutching Scotty, we peered over the half-door at the kids inside.

My first thought, one I am not proud of, is that scene in 'The Little Mermaid' when Ursala had turned other mer-people into sea urchins (or coral?) - you know, the part where the lost souls are waving their arms and moaning? Yeah, that was the Toddler room. All of the kids were crying, all of them had running noses, and they all looked at me with big, pleading eyes. It was fairly horrifying. Good lord, what was I getting my child into?

But I pressed on. Scotty's a fairly happy baby that has shown no separation anxiety, and besides, it is one little hour. It's not going to kill him. And if it crashes and burns, than I just come and get him early, right?

So against my better judgment, I handed my child over and headed to the cardio area. I immediately turned on the close circuit TV so I could watch the grainy images live. I was happy I could easily pick out Scotty from the crowd (I put him in stripes.) The following is essentially the transcript of my internal monologue as I watched:

Okay, there he is...he looks happy...is he eating his shoe? When did his shoe come off? Now he's behind the wall...no Scotty, come out from there, I can't really see you. Oh that's nice, they are all playing on the mat. Those dolls look really gross. Wait, why are they taking all the kids off the mat? Why are they now using some kind of chemical on the mat and cleaning it off? OMG did a kid puke on the mat? Poop? WHAT? I only have 19 minutes left...maybe they are just cleaning normally? That's a lot of towels for a routine cleaning...I should have asked when they clean...why is that woman holding Scotty, he totally wants to be let down...no, no, don't lean him back! He hates that! Yikes! I knew it; I knew he would try to club her in the face if she did that...oh wait, why is she holding him like a Christmas ham? Just put him down! He wants to go down! Argh! These people are idiots!

At which point I turned my treadmill off and ran directly to the Toddler area.

Scotty was crying harder than I had ever seen him; his little nose was running and he was red in the face. All of the workers looked at me with surprise when I showed up and they immediately tossed him at me. I was practically in tears at this point and could only managed a terse, "Why didn't you call me?" before storming out.

And needless to say, I felt terrible on the drive home. Scotty just looked dazed and sad and was still sniffling in the backseat for a good ten minutes. I, racked with guilt, made him his favorite lunch (chicken nuggets with a block of cheese and a half of banana) and we cuddled and played -with my full attention; no email, texting, or Facebook - until it was nap time.

So yeah, absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I didn't want to let him out of my sights for the rest of the afternoon. And I'm happy it only took 30 torture-filled moments for me to realize this.

Ball!

10/11/2010

Having an almost 14-month old in your house is a very weird thing.

On one hand, it's kind of like living with a raccoon. Or maybe a family of raccoons. I have a system of where things go (ahhh, organization) and Scotty seems determined to foil my system. Case in point: just the other day, I was looking for the tongs to flip some bacon. They usually go in the drawer next to the stove. But they weren't there. After a thorough search, I finally discovered them in Scotty's drawer, the one we gave him so he can store his take-out menus, orange ball, and this little doll made out of cedar chips (the staples for any toddler. Seriously, this kid loves take-out menus. Maybe it's the glossy pictures?).

Anyways, the fact that Scotty is now mobile AND curious makes life that much harder, because even if you put an object away, there is no guarantee it will be there when you return. I must have spent two hours last week looking for the ceiling fan remote, only to find it stashed in one of the kitchen cabinets. I was seriously contemplating Googling "ceiling fan motor burn-out" when Scotty, not me, produced the remote and we were finally able to turn the darn thing off. Likewise, sippy cups mysteriously disappear for days. It's not like they are strewn across the carpet anymore; they are all hidden in various caches around the house.

Every day is like a scavenger hunt when you live with a toddler.

And I'm also starting to realize Scotty's receptive language is really picking up. Just this morning, on a whim, I asked him to show me his orange ball. (I knew it was in the drawer, along with my tongs. Still.) Without hesitation, he marched right over to the drawer, opened it up, and produced the orange ball. My only thought (as I trilled, "Good boy!!") was, "Crap, we really need to watch our language around this little one." And with Packer football in the state that it is currently, I think I might have to banish Brian from the house on Sundays. The yelling that erupted from the family yesterday morning would have made a sailor blush.

Scotty is also obsessed with naming objects. It doesn't actually have to be what he thinks it is, he's just going to name it anyways. Case in point: ball. He loves saying "Ball!" We were in Whole Foods last week, and everything there was "Ball!" The plum was a ball. The peaches were balls. The oranges, apples, and kiwis were balls. I finally had to escape the produce aisle so he would stop yelling, "Ball!"

My favorite, though, happened this morning. I was carrying him through our bathroom (as he frantically played with the ceiling fan remote, of course) and he suddenly pointed to the floor and yelled, "Ball!" My first thought was that there was a cock roach there or something. But upon closer inspection, he was actually pointing at a cotton ball, which was, of course, round. And to him, anything that is round is a ball. He was delighted to pull it apart and feel the softness of it, although it didn't look much like a ball when he was done with it. Silly kid.

He hasn't said any new words lately, but ball, juice, cheese, and Da-Da! are definitely among his favorites. He also like to say, "Uh-oh!" but it comes out more like, "Ah-oooooh!" He looks so earnest when he says it; he even sticks out his bottom lip and coos. It's hard not to smile.

We have a busy week coming up. We're off to music lessons this afternoon, and Brian's birthday is on Wednesday. More Paid Humiliation on Thursday afternoon (he slept through his make-up lesson last week, simply delaying the inevitable), and on Friday, a few friends and I are getting together to create our own little preschool. Seven kids, a variety of ages, once a week, and we're going to rotate houses. I'm especially excited for snack time.

But first, I need to find my tongs. Again.

Friday Potpourri

10/8/2010

What the heck...how is it Friday already??

I honestly have no idea where this week went. And I am a rather loud, vocal complainer when it comes to the week moving too slowly, so this is kind of a nice change. I'd like to thank Mother Nature for the drop in temperature, which I think played a role this week flying by. It is beyond blissful to be able to actually go to the park and not worry about your child frying off his hand on playground equipment.

So, what's new...let me think. We have more visitors in town this weekend; this is the SoCal Contingent (last weekend it was the NoCal Group.) I'm so excited to see Adam and Tiffany again on their first excursion as a married couple, even though they are in town for Young Republican stuff (::sigh::). How many weeks until the election? I'm at a place where I could really care less who wins (Harry Reid: blah, too), I just want the ridiculous phone calls to stop. Since Brian and I are in different parties, it seems like we get twice as many. And when they call during naptime...oh, lord. Yesterday, Scotty fell asleep at 2:45 (after only 19 minutes of fussing!) and then the phone rang at 2:52. He didn't fall back asleep until 3:45. And right now, as he sleeps, I have the phone off the hook. Not joking.

We attended another music class this week, and I take back everything I said previously. It was BEYOND fun. Oh my gosh, I had the best time and so did Scotty. I went to the 1:00pm class on Monday, and it was only four other kids...all between the ages of 12 months and 22 months. So it was just perfect, since they were all doing the same things. Scotty LOVED the music and dancing, and made a few new friends. Kai was a little bit of a loose cannon; he needed to be taken out a few times for bad behavior, but Elsa and Lily were sweet as pie. (the other little boy was Michael, who looked completely shell-shocked and clung to his mother the whole time). Scotty made the rounds, shook some hands, talked policy and essentially charmed everyone in the room. (sorry for the shameless bragging. I was so proud). At the end of the class, Scotty and Elsa, this adorable little blond, were standing and just looking at each other when we started the good-bye song. I think we all held our breath, wondering what the kids were going to do (as I silently prayed, "Don't push her down, don't hit her, don't pull her pigtails, please, please") and after a thorough once-over, they grinned and went their separate ways. I know Scotty is too young to understand it's wrong to pull a little girl's hair, but it was refreshing to not have to intervene. (there were a lot of looks exchanged when Kai started flinging castanets and blocks during free play and was subsequently dragged into the hallway.) I know it's going to happen, but you just never want to be that parent.

As we walked out, Elsa's grandmother (I think) asked how old Scotty was, and then said, "He is a handsome little boy. He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up." Aw. So nice of her.

Finally, I think I'll round out today's potpourri with a story from Wednesday. Let's call this "Traumatic Bear Injury." I was feeling rather smug having cleaned out Scotty's Closet (the one downstairs that houses all of his toys). It was now 100% baby-proofed and we could actually play in the closet, which had kind of a cool feel to it. So Scotty and I are just chilling, stacking some blocks on Wednesday morning when bam! He tumbles down (while drinking his sippy cup), and on his way down, he slams his little head into the bottom shelf in the closet. Mind you, I baby-proofed the shelf above it, but not the one farthest down (b/c at the time, I was like, "He'll never fall into that one. It's too low.") And just like everything else in Motherhood, I was proven completely and totally wrong.

He hit his head with such force that I'm surprised he didn't lose consciousness. I immediately grabbed some (crushed) ice and held it to his head while he screamed bloody murder. After 10 minutes, he was fine. No swelling, the redness had gone down, and he was playing normally. I relayed all of my concerns to Brian when he came downstairs, and he could barely see a bump. So I didn't call the doctor. I feel like she thinks I'm a little histrionic to begin with (okay, YOU trying having a child taken by ambulance to the hospital on their 8th day of life and not be a little overly-cautious) so I thought I would wait it out. He wasn't puking, no fluid coming out of his ears or nose (other than general snot from crying), no seizures, change in affect, mood, or energy, etc. (Thank you, WebMD). I gave him some Motrin and put him down for his nap at the normal time. No problem.

I had a baby-sitter coming over so I could run some errands, and when I left, I called the doctor to just double check regarding protocol for head injuries. Mind you, the injury happened at 7am and I was calling at 12:30pm. The receptionist, clearly skilled in the manner of how to freak out a parent in 2.3 seconds, told me 1.) I should have never let him go to sleep, 2.) I needed to bring him in immediately for assessment, and 3.) just because there is no bruising, there could still be internal bleeding. WHAT?!

We were at Dr. Awesome's clinic in about 4 minutes.

And she promptly told me I was overreacting, and kind of laughed at me. So now she is just Dr. Really-Competent-but-Not-So-Great-Bedside-Manner.

I feel like this story emphasizes one of the hardest parts of Motherhood: when do you react? In my gut reaction said, "No problem." But Chicken Little Receptionist made me forgo any kind of instinct and run for medical care immediately. I'm not saying what she did was wrong (it was very correct, from a litigious standpoint), but it's just so hard to know what to do, and when to do it. Oh, the gray hairs.

I am strongly considering a helmet for Scotty at this point.

Anyways, all's well that ends well. He's fine, he doesn't even have a bruise, and we have yet another busy day planned. On my list of things to do: make pumpkin cake. (Thank you, Williams-Sonoma). If it turns out good, I'll post the recipe.

Have a great weekend!

The Bear on Game Day, Part II

9/28/2010

Sorry, that last post wasn't supposed to turn into a two-parter, but something went wrong with either the website or my computer. Either way...where were we?

When you are done with your cheese...

...play a mean game of peek-a-boo with your plate.

Peek-a-

BOO!

It's almost game time! Next up: make sure Momb has plenty to read.

Sadly, it's still not enough

Have Dad change the channel so you can watch all of the pregame action.

Near-sighted Bear

Be sure to text all of your friends about the game. Trash-talking is so much fun.

Grab your pom-poms and make sure the ceiling fan is set at exactly the right speed.

And finally, open the door when your friends arrive! Monday Night Football is ready to start!

The Bear on Game Day

9/28/2010

You may find yourself asking, "What does a small bear do on Game Day?" In two words - a lot. Let me show you.

First, you need to wear your favorite team's jersey all day.

Froggie is a Packer fan, too

Then you need to make sure you eat plenty, because a hungry Bear is a cranky Bear.

(I have no idea why we were eating on the kitchen floor. It just seemed like a good idea that the time.)

It's best if you fill up on cheese, since it is the world's greatest food.

Cheesehead Bear

Be sure to share your cheese with loved ones.

(quick joke: What do you call cheese that doesn't belong to you?

Answer: Nacho cheese! (hahaha) )

Sharing is caring

Discuss politics and the state of this country over lunch.

I know, Christine O'Donnell creeps me out, too!

And then, when you are almost done...

The cheese stands alone

Whoops - to be continued in the next entry (Weebly won't let me add anymore pictures)

Friday Potpourri

9/24/2010

Not a whole lot to report here...it's been a good, quiet week. Just some random comments...

I am five books into the week. I love my iPad and the ease in which I can purchase new books. Literally, it takes 3 seconds. I'm not sure Brian contemplated this aspect of the iPad when he bought it for me, but per our friend Uncle Jim, we are slowly going bankrupt, $12.99 at a time. I can read, check Facebook, and my email all without ever getting off the couch. If only it would text, it would be perfect. (Steve Jobs, are you reading this?)

Brian and I have taken to calling Scotty "FrankenBear" since his walk is more of a lurch. He balls up his arms to his sides when he lurches, and I swear, all he needs are the bolts on the side of his neck and some green paint and he would look exactly like the monster from 'Frankenstein' (a miniature version, at least). (and for all you aspiring English scholars out there, the monster was never actually Frankenstein; that was the name of the doctor who created him. The monster was always just referred to as 'the monster' in the book. See? You just learned something.)

I had to endure yet another session of Paid Humiliation on Thursday afternoon. I'm not sure if it was because the horror of Music Lesson Tuesday was still fresh in my mind, but swimming lessons weren't so bad this time. I was back in the one-piece black suit and managed to secure the boobs prior to the lesson, so that gave me a bit of confidence. Only one Bikini Babe was there, and the other two women were really nice and normal. And -- this is very exciting -- Scotty is actually getting better! Brian and I were debating why we put in him lessons so early, since I'm not sure he even comprehends directions at this point, but seeing actual improvement was very, very exciting. We're not up to laps just yet, but the little Bear managed to kick one leg when I dunked him, and he immediately went into floating position when it was time for that in the class. Progress! Out of the four kids in the class, he was probably second best. Not bad. I mean, one kid was only seven months (and howled the whole time), and the other kid and his mother didn't speak English, but we'll take what we can get.

The weather here continues to hover in the mid-90s, though I'm wearing jeans and drinking hot drinks from Starbucks. Summer, be damned. I am ready for fall. I am getting really anxious to buy some pumpkins and purchase Scotty's Halloween costume (currently, still a secret...). And I am SO ready to not feel like I'm baking every time I go outside, even if it's just for a few minutes. Autumn, where are you?

Well, other than that, things are pretty quiet around here. We have a nice weekend planned. The Packers play on Monday night, which means Brian will be home early. Do I have to dress Scotty in his Packer jersery all day? I don't know the rules on this one. And, the other day, Brian mentioned to me it would "nice" if I "ever wanted to wear [my] Aaron Rodgers' jersey" during a game, as a sign of support. Sigh. It really is football season, isn't it? Brian takes zero interest in my wardrobe until the Packers hit the field.

Some pictures of Scotty lurching around the park this week:

Terracotta Bear

Wee Bear

Slide: you're doing it wrong

Hello, world!

Playing the chimes

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Weigh-In Wednesday and some Music Lesson Horrors

9/22/2010

Down a pound.

Woot!

Super boring though - watched portions, ate healthy, blah, blah. You know the drill. And best of all, this was managed despite the birthday party of last week including cupcakes, cake, dinners out, etc.

(FYI: you don't need to eat an entire cupcake in one sitting. I simply divided my four cupcakes in half, and ate 1/2 whenever I was hungry. Brian ate part of one, too, and I shared some with Scotty. See? Calorie division.)

No, the real interesting part of this week was the start of Music Lessons. I had been anxiously waiting for it to start, since I had heard all kinds of good things. I definitely want Scotty to learn how to read music one day (any kind of language is good, in my opinion, since it gets a different area of your brain working) and early exposure like this was going to be great. Right?

If you've been reading this blog long enough, you know that anytime I ask "Right?" a crash and burn lies ahead. I feel like I am like the Bridget Jones of Motherhood. I try really hard...just things never turn out the I expect.

Anyways, while Brian and I lack some serious dance skills, Scotty does not. This kid has been rocking out since he was in utero. Seriously -- on my way to perinatal appointments, he would move the most whenever I turned on the hip-hop station. I was always more of a Top 40 kind of gal, but hey, whatever the baby wants, the baby gets. So my dial has been permanently parked on hip-hop since last summer, and now that he's an outside baby, Scotty enjoys rocking out in his car seat. His favs? Katy Perry, Usher, Ke$ha, and Eminem.

I'm not saying we have any street cred, but we can still listen, right? And while I acknowledge that 'Back Dat Azz Up' is probably not the most appropriate music for my one year old, it has a good beat. And he's not listening to the words. Yo.

Back to music lessons.

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when the Bear woke up from his morning nap covered in poo. Poo everywhere. Total diaper blow-out. Poo on the baby, poo in the sleep sack, poo on the mattress cover. It took almost 40 minutes and an entire package of wipes to clean up the crime scene, thus preventing us from going to the park. So we had lunch at home, played, read, etc, and went down for a nap closer to 3 instead of 2 (since he wasn't really that tired.)

Music lessons started at 4:30.

At 3:45, I began to pace.

At 4:00, I started wringing my hands.

At 4:15, I called the office and spoke to a very nice woman who told me to still attend class, even if we are just there for 10 minutes to pick up the paperwork (whatever that was), or I could go to a make-up class next week.

At 4:30, Scotty woke up.

More poo. But I was determined.

By 4:50, we were in the car, flying to music lessons. I could walk in late, right? No problem. It was the first day, I'm sure everyone was late. We were just filing out paperwork or something.

We walked in to find a room full of parents - with kids - trilling. Trilling. As in making "whoooooo!" noises at this high-pitched level. And the kids were all dancing (or just moving) in the middle to the trilling. It sounded a hive of cicadas.

I swear, I know Scotty doesn't understand the word yet, but when he looked at me, I could tell he was thinking, "Momb? Cult?"

And of course, since we were so late, everyone turned to look at us (though the trilling didn't stop). I had spent 10 minutes at the car in the parking lot trying to get Scotty's shoes on his feet only to realize that everyone here was barefoot. And trilling, did I mention that?

They finally, blessedly, stopped. (it felt like it went on for a good ten minutes, though I'm sure it was only probably 30 seconds. I was just so taken aback.) And Scotty and I introduced ourselves (though he was clutching his container of Cheerios with abject fear, I noted), joined the circle of cult members, er, music lesson-goers, and then the teacher passed out scarves. Filmy scarves. And they started singing again, this time about a firetruck. ("Whoo-whoo! Firetrucks....whoo-whooooooo!")

I seriously wanted to cover my ears. And the scarf we were handed was purple. No joke.

I tried trading my scarf with the four-year old girl next to me (she had a lovely deep blue one) but she wouldn't budge. Whatever. I tried to go through the motions with the rest of class (we were now singing about rocket ships - whoo-whoooo!) while fanning the scarves around. Scotty continued to clutch his Cheerios while looking around the room, unsure of what to make of this scene.

I had never wanted to be back in Swim Lessons more than that moment.

I was also having a hard time keeping a straight face. I mean, was this Motherhood? Was I going to have to subject my child to these dorky, geeky classes and pretend that I was enjoying them? Nothing against the music people, but this was just not our bag. I couldn't even look at the other parents because I was afraid I was going to burst into nervous, hysterical giggles.

Ah, but the best was yet to come. The teachers passed out little instruments to all of the kids (holy cacophony) for a song, and then collected them. Scotty, being one of the younger ones, wailed when she took his castanets away. And we suddenly went from being the cool, indifferent pair (in my head, at least) to being the Mother with the Screaming Child.

It took 15 minutes and much walking around to resolve that one.

And then, class blissfully ended. During the last song, fully recovered from his meltdown, Scotty took it upon himself to crawl to the middle of the circle and wave at everyone. For the whole song. He just continued to pivot around the circle, waving, working the room. The Mayor had arrived.

People were smiling at him (thankfully) but I again, was like, "Crap, what do I do?" What is the policy on kids in the middle of the circle? Do I let him stay there? Do I need to keep him by me? Should I get a leash? This Motherhood stuff is harder than it looks.

At the end, I collected my waving, political baby and hustled out the door, but not before the teacher could hand me two CDs for the class with instructions to listen to it "in the car and at home." (that's why they give you two...they are really serious about this.) She told me I need to learn the songs so I can "participate" at the next class. Crap, I was back in high school and they were making me sing. I managed to smile and thank her, but really? Do I have to come back? I had prepaid for 8 classes, so it looks like my Tuesday afternoons are booked.

::sigh::

We listened to Jay-Z on the ride home.

Just Another Friday Afternoon

9/17/2010

Brian sent me this link today:

http://green.yahoo.com/blog/guest_bloggers/69/man-builds-cat-sized-village-for-homeless-cats.html

Check it out -- hilarious. And inspiring. And yes, I 'friend-ed' him on Facebook. (just look up Caboodle Ranch).

I wrote back to Brian, "We are totally doing this in our backyard!"

and he writes back, "Great! Scotty can be the greeter at the Cat-Wal-Mart."

Oh, he's funny.