Lobsters and Ledges Originally Sent JAN 18, 2006

For the record, there are many wonders in this world. At the moment, my two favorite are a good and brilliant man, and hot water...and considering the state of scuz I have been in recently, the one made possible my ability to enjoy the other. Yay!!! I was LOBSTER LADY again!!!. More importantly, I was clean and shiny and no longer a candidate for my very own toxic warning label. Jon took one for the team, and forced me to crash for five glorious hours, and when I awoke, I was then able, thanks to his foresight in getting the Roo settled and down, to get A REAL BATH last night. A bath! Oh rapture!!!!

Jon is still gingerly feeling his way through this fatherhood thingy...according to his reading (and he's been cramming almost as much as I have lately) everytime I nurse Josh, my biology bonds me to him more. We think this is why, after thirty-odd (emphasis on ODD) years of not being overly impressed with the small alien beings known as children, I'm getting rather fond on this one, and why Jon remains slightly off-balance and uncertain about the whole process. We have bounced around (ok, I mentioned one time) the idea of getting a one of those nursing devices for men. Jon has politely and firmly decided that rather than wear a prosthetic breast to bond with his progeny, he will continue to bottle feed his way along the trixsy path O' parenthood and leave the mammaries to them that have them...We have decided after much thought to not consider Josh a "child" per se, but rather as our very first "minion"...as it has always been our goal to take over the world someday, and all evil overlords are required to have minions. It's in the contract actually. Besides, the silly people who oppose us will be overwhelmed by his cuteness, and succomb to our will that much faster. And his minion uniform will be that much less expensive as there will be less fabric involved. Hey, just because one is an Evil Overlord, it doesn't mean one must be any less fiscally responsible.(Josh in Minion Uniform --> )


Josh is now officially over a month old ...hard to believe, I know...and apparently, I have some catch up reading to do... everyone else knew that he would be hitting a honkin' growth spurt...and that I would be playing 24-7 Elsie to my "fridge-raiding" Roo... (Drink all you want, we'll make more?) Now, no one bothered to tell me that it would last a week (I was thinking a day. Seriously)...I could not sleep, I could not lie down...I could not put him down...My little red-haired remora was constantly attached. The sleep deprivation was amusing and then frightening...it was evident in my forgetfulness...I would put an item down, some place safe and obvious...I would then spend the next five hours hunting for it (for those of you fine people awaiting thank you's, I beg your indulgence...my thank you notes have temporarily shared this fate as well). I have been lightedheaded and dizzy in the extreme...it was almost impossible to stand up and there have been many times in this last week where Josh and I were going to play an endgame of Twister sans mat. It became almost as nerve wracking as Josh's cries -- and this week that's what he excelled at. Now, not all the time, not forever...but he was apparently in the same kind of state I was as far as sleep deprivation...What we had been doing was trying to put him down at eleven when we attempted to crash...I'd then be up around 1:30-2 and then somewhere between three and five for the second course... Yes, Jon offered to help, but until recently, I hadn't been able to have an extra bottle stashed away for his use. Frankly, Jon was unequipped for the job. This last week, I'd put Josh down, he'd be up again in a second...there have got to be new words for exhausting, and apparently, as tired as the little guy was, he would get himself too worked up to sleep. It made for some incredibly rough nights...when Jon went back to work on Thursday, that day was as rough as the first day that we brought Josh home...I don't know who cried or howled more that day...Josh, or me... That night Jon forcibly marched me to bed...I was whining and babbling and again, remember little. Last night he did the same thing...I slept from nine p.m. to 1:30 a.m., and never was that bed more lovely. Again, my brilliant husband has hit on something that may be the savior of our sanity. There was no reason for Josh to be up and entertaining us until our bedtime. He suggested that we start his bath time at seven, play some good music (I do love the fact that my boy is a blatant Michael Buble fan -- the song "Feeling Good" calms him immediately...it was also the song that was in my head as I wobbled down the hospital hallway to hold him for the first time. He is also partial to anything with a solid harmony, and musicals...not certain how he feels about the song "Hold Me, Bat Boy" -- when I sing along at the top of my lungs, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and I swear, actually rolls his little grey-brown eyes at me. The joy of embarassing my child has begun. Ah, parenthood!) Anyhow, we've started bedtime at eight, eight thirty, and for the last two nights, he's been very easy to deal with (don't let me jinx us please!!!). He's in his own room now (his, meaning it has the changing table w/his clothes and toys and bassinet in it...it is also still primarily my library...) The change of location seems to have helped delay the nightly rounds, too....I'm a little concerned about the problems we've been having with the monitor...in that the monitor doesn't work. It may be all of the electrical interference from all of the cb's in the vicinity, but we don't know for certain. Ah well...I set my little wrist alarm to the key points in the night, and Josh is sleeping sounder, and we, well, we're getting there.

The other day we visited Mom and Dad and the "Other" grandson...Josh may draw a crowd, but Little Mark knows how to work them. He flirts, he giggles, he struts...the boy will put Ricky Martin to shame the second he knows how to swivel his hips. By rights, the great car god, Babalooo (the all powerful god of traffic and good parking spaces) should be taking notes from my nephew...for in the not too distant future, all traffic will be directed only to this little dark haired imp. At two, he already has a distinct swagger.

I have decided, after much thought, that I can handle this baby thing...This baby thing meaning the "not moving much, looking cute, making faces, and staying out of trouble" part. We are, again, slowly inching our way across the excessively narrow ledge of the hood of parenting (and whose idea was it to give parents a hood of their own, anyhow? ) but as I watched my nephew bounce around, off and over everything these last few days (channeling ol' Bill again as I did so -- "No, Dad...I'm Da--it, He's Jesus Christ!!!), "helping" Mom and Carrie with the redecoration of the kitchen and other interesting rooms...I found myself wondering how we were going to handle a much more mobile Roo. After much thought, I found myself re-voting for the twenty-year epidural we had hoped for initially (for us, of course). Oh, Congress, it would seem that we have found a viable alternative energy source!


We offered to trade Josh for Jasper (Mom's large and regal ragdoll -- and everyone's most favorite cat) or Chance (Carrie's sainted American bulldog). Carrie's response? "Well, there are no real guarantees on Josh, yet, are there? I mean, really, I'm going to need to see more personality. Will he be a good playmate for Mark? Will Josh let Mark sit or jump on Josh's head?" Good question. Points to ponder, in fact, as Josh does not strike me as being the type who would be amused by this head-jumping procedure. Mom, who turns down hourly offers from people wanting Jasper, has actually been mulling this suggestion quite seriously...and, in point of fact, has not actually given us an answer yet...



(On a side note: To Brenda, Dawn, Jodi, and Diane and all the other C- teachers I saw a few days ago...YOU LOOK MAHVELOUS!!! Dear God, ladies...slap on some gold lame hip boots and a shimmery mini, and all of you could be dead ringers for the dancers in an Austin Powers cut scene. .I remain, for any number of reasons, wholly in awe of all of you.)
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