That first one was the temperature of our house when we got back this afternoon. I walked in and thought to myself, "Kate, something is not quite right here." It felt somehow more echoing and creaky, but I failed to identify the frigid temperature as the source. With the assistance of the thermometer I was able to put my finger on it. "Aha," I thought, "the inside of the fridge feels the same as the kitchen, possibly warmer. That is a clue. At least there will be no rush to put new groceries away." My inner monologue is enthralling.
The thermostat had run out of batteries, so it was at least easy to fix. We promptly retreated to Wegmans for dinner and pantry restocking while the furnace did its thing. Four hours later we're up to 50 degrees. Ollie is hanging out in his bear suit and hasn't noticed a thing. Dylan has noticed but doesn't care because sleeping in a hat and a big pile of blankets seems like an adventure. Aaron is composed of molten lava, so it's nothing to him, so it's really just me that is uncomfortable. I can't maintain my body temperature under the best of circumstances (okay, I can while pregnant, but NOT AT ALL otherwise), so I am freezing, and I can't use my usual trick of a warm shower to warm up because we're afraid to turn on the water until the pipes warm up a bit. We also can't use a lot of the extra blankets in the house due to: mice (nor wash them right now, see above). They have revealed their explorations slowly, via little pockets of dog food that tumble out of various items in the basement. Surprise!
Speaking of creepy, The Vanishing, Dutch version, 1988. AAAAAAAAAAAAH.
***
The second one of course refers to young Oliver and his age. I've been following along in the archives when Dylan was the same as as Ollie. It's hard to read because I was SO FOCUSED on everything that was happening and because I recorded it all in painful detail. Not the way to let things slide off one's back. I felt at the time like we were being so laid back with her. In retrospect: we weren't. I wasn't worried that we were doing things wrong per se, but I always felt like I could solve whatever sleep or eating issue there was if I just changed what I was doing. With Ollie everything just doesn't seem as urgent, but the main difference is that I know there's a certain amount of irritating baby stuff I can't change.
Nonetheless, my new, enlightened attitude has not stopped me from keeping score. Dylan was already refusing the bottle at not very much older than Ollie is now, and she never fell asleep in the car seat except under great duress. Two points for Ollie. On the other hand, I'm sure he knows who I am already and is easier for me -- not a good sign for being laid back about other people taking care of him. Also: refluxy. So I would say he's two for four thus far. He's also obviously got a very different personality, although it's hard to say exactly how because communication with six-week-olds is sort of in the eye of the handler. I would still bet he sleeps more than average, although he's kept me up until 1-3am for the past week or so.
Yours in frostbite,
Bleisenblog
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