Thursday, February 25, 2010

Write about what you know

For a while there, Ollie was sleeping 6 or 7 hours at night. He's back down to 3 or 4 now. This is less good. We are more tired. And sort of dumb, from the tired. I would tell you a funny story about something silly I've done, but I can't retain thoughts for long enough to remember one.

I was starting to get a fair amount of work done and to work on some house projects. It's hard to go back to not getting anything done besides keeping everyone fed, exercised, and cleanish.

We've had all sorts of growth spurts around here. Both kids just outgrew all their clothes. Dylan and I went shopping in the attic in the bag of stuff that I had filed under "too big to ever fit" that now is just about right. She also clearly went through some kind of mental spurt, one that allows for more fun stuff, like in the video, but also for a more sophisticated kind of annoying. For one thing, she cannot STAND for me and Aaron to have a conversation that doesn't involve her. We've worked on not interrupting and not being rude, so now she stands there very sweetly and says, "Excuse me, mommy?" until I pay attention to her, then says the first thing that pops into her head so it appears that she actually had something to say to me. "I like your eyes" is typical. So she is managing to relentlessly badger me in a very polite way. She is just about able to go pick out her clothes and get dressed by herself, but a big part of this phase seems to be a complete inability to focus on accomplishing any useful task, in favor of such activities as twirling or staring into space or tailgating me as I go about my day. Plus the clumsiness. Good lord, the clumsiness. Preschoolers are crazy and weird. If we want to drive her nuts we just spell words she doesn't know and then refuse to tell her what we're talking about.

Ollie went through that cool 12-week transformation. He can string together multiple hours of being awake in a row and has cut out that evil evening screechfest and seems more comfortable processing food. He's cheerful and smiling most of the time provided someone is talking to him and I am within his line of sight. Constraining, but not too bad. He had his two month appointment, uh, a few days ago. Remember how no one could believe how much weight he gained the first month? Guess how much he grew in the past 8 weeks? Two ounces. I made some sort of squawk when the nurse told me his weight, and she was like, what? That's not okay? The two ounces? We decided it was probably a little fluky and not a problem, but I'm bringing him back for his four month appointment in 6 weeks just to check. He's still really tall (24.5 inches = 90th percentile) and his noggin is fine. He can't wait to get some actual food in his little food hole judging by the rapture on his face while watching us chew. Luckily for him they now say you can feed babies earlier instead of trying to go six full months. Coincidentally, I also can't wait to get some food in my food hole.

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