Driving To Distractions

It's 11:38 p.m. The guys are in bed: Josh went down after about a dozen "one more kiss, one more hug" routines...the house smells pleasantly of tuna, because Jon decided at a quarter 'till 10 to make his lunch for tomorrow...apparently, he's very fond of his mom's recipe, which calls for five eggs (though he used six, chopped into a fine, eggy goo), mustard, and one can of tuna. It sounds more like deviled tuna to me, but he was happy...though we both wondered whether we'd have to get him another lunch tomorrow, because he was smacking his lips in a fine impression of M'OWee the cat. As for myself, it isn't tuna salad unless it's large chunks of eggs (two, maybe three), loads of pickle relish, miracle whip, and tuna...maybe some croutons. *Sigh* This may be a turning point in our marriage.


I really wanted to crash with Jon tonight...the cold days have come, slinking in like a bad dog, the wood smoke that drifts across the river is laced with the low, easy scent of burning leaves, the river itself looks almost Seine-like, white mirrored lights on a black, unfathomable surface. If you didn't know what was in it, you'd almost consider it romantic and surreal. Jon even told me that as he drove to work this morning, he saw large flakes of what could only be termed "snow". I don't need to hear that kind of language.

We have been trying a new tactic with Josh. After a series of rough weeks where he would end up with us, I told Jon he needed to start putting money back for a new room on the house...just big enough for me, a bed, and a locked door -- I'd rather play "Mrs. Rochester" in a dang closet if it would just get me two solid nights without those assaults (and, yes, I know he was asleep and he didn't mean to do it, but that didn't make me hurt any less -- he's pure muscle!) I've seen the UFC (Ultimate Fighter Championship), and we enjoy watching mixed martial arts (yes, after The Roo is down for his own count), but being on the receiving end when you are sound asleep, it ain't fun. Oh, I was riled! After that last night of being full-out pummeled and, I kid you not, continually slapped hard right in the middle of my face, I sent Jon an email that by rights should have just melted not only his computer, but set fire to his entire cubicle. Jon's day didn't get better...and when he came home, he was just as exasperated as I had been...but, perversely, I was suddenly in a much better mood. Josh and I had gotten along like the best of friends all day...we were nothing if not coma-inducing, utterly, sugary-cuteness. By the time Jon came home, weeks of sheer agony-induced anger had just gone...I had a plan. I finally had a plan.

That night, after all of us had a decent chance to get settled down, and refocused, we put it into play. Jon did the growls, and read Josh his story, then I came in for a last round of hugs and kisses and to bring Josh his water cup. "Josh, " I whispered, "If you can stay all night in your room like a big boy, you can have three stickers of your choice tomorrow. Now, I get it if you get worried and you need us...but if you can sleep in your room, you get those stickers tomorrow morning." His eyes got huge. Three stickers for a toddler seems to be the equivalent of the deed to a platinum mine for an adult. This was a great idea he thought, and I just hoped it would work...because if it didn't, by God, Jon was building me that little room, and I was NOT going to come out. Two hours later, as josh slept, I turned off his larger night light, and left only the little one on...then, just to make sure, I had all of the other lights in the house turned off...and to make even more certain, I placed a baby gate in his doorway. Part of the problem is that Josh has become so adept at sneaking in when we are completely asleep, that we don't know he's there until he starts break dancing on every pressure point in our spines. For better or for worse...my version of belling the cat worked. He woke up around three...did his usual sleepwalking routine...into the gate. We were jolted out of deep sleep by the sounds of the gate crashing against the doorway...and screams like a bad Hammer Horror movie...it was unnerving as all hell...but by the time I could get to Josh, the gate was still securely in place...and Josh, was curled up sound asleep and cute ...and back in his bed. I changed his diaper...because we've discovered that this is really what's been waking him lately, and he slept until after Jon left that morning. This was successful for three nights...and every morning, he got three stickers...plus two more if, when he came in, he did not kick Mommy awake because he wanted his daily cinnamon roll, "Now! Mommy. Want CinminRoll NOW!!! (I swear that kid seems to need cinnamon rolls for breakfast like I need my coffee -- and what's vaguely amusing is that for anything else he wants, he says, "Please." Of course, I'm not as polite when it comes to my coffee, either)...and every night, in the deep dark, he would hit that stupid gate again, howl like a banshee and get back to bed... I'd stumble in, change him, tuck him in, and check the gate. On the last night, however, things changed. That night he hit the barricade...and was awake enough to simply pop the bar and move the thing to the side. It still made enough noise to wake me up, and I herded him back to his room, changed him and flopped into the nice comfy bed, ready to snooze to my heart's content. Of course, I wasn't counting on Jon's sinus issues...or his much abused, incredibly flat pillow to make their respective wills known. I shook my head, and buried my face in my pillow. And then, I poked him. He stopped...for a while...Koda, however, did not...and after chasing it until a quarter of four that morning, our reigning white lion deposited one highly unamused midnight snack on my stomach. *Sigh* Apparently, Koda felt I would be less cranky with more protein. I wanted to give him grief, but he's such a lousy mouser, it seemed unkind after all of his hard, noisy work. The first mouse of fall was deposited outside -- probably cussing out both the human saviour as well as the impending devourer in little mousie epithets -- Koda was deposited on the floor, firmly, but with many admiring whisperers about his hunting prowess...Josh came in around seven...and snuggled in until almost nine. It wasn't a spa, by any means, but oh it was helpful.

We've had our odd brushes since we instituted the Sticker Referendum, but so far, little by little, it seems to be doing the job...Josh stays in his room, unless he needs changed. He then goes back to sleep...and comes in usually either just after Jon has left for work, or just-just before Jon's alarm is set to go off. My sleep schedule is still ridiculous. I don't get to sleep for hours after Josh's night trips...and I don't go to sleep for hours before Josh's night trips...if I don't crash with him during his naps, I can barely function the rest of the day...and when Jon is ready to go to bed, I'm still too keyed up to simmer down. Poor Jon. It didn't help tonight that we had a cold snap tonight, and I broke out a twelve-cup pack of coffee I'd been saving, simply because I wanted to hole up and be warm. I drank what amounted to four cups of coffee after six p.m (I rarely have more than 2 cups a day). It was Pumpkin Spice with nutmeg and cinnamon flavors, and was just wonderful...but I still wish I could shut down right now and go snuggle my poor husband. Even at a quarter after one in the morning, I'd still be tossing and turning too much for him to sleep...though he keeps telling me he sleeps that much less when I'm not by his side. Don't know if it's much of consolation that much of my night is spent trying to make myself sleepy...or cleaning up after our idiot, bulimic cats. (I have promised myself that the next "stray" we take in will never have skipped a meal in its fat, sheltered life. It doesn't matter that they are always fed. It doesn't matter that neither of them is anywhere NEAR starving. They must eat as though their tales are on fire...and there are always dire results...*sigh*)

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Josh is not one to be easily swayed...even in the very beginning, we could not really distract him if he was bound and determined that he was going to do something, if he was distracted, it was because he wanted to be distracted -- not because we actually won a round. Lately, his obsession has been to go to Gramma Marsha's house. More specifically, he wants to "get on my shoes. go out to car. Mommy drive. GotoGrammaMarsha'sHouse!!! Now! With Cherry On Top. Now! Um, Pweeze." Mom's had a busy few week...and we've been playing phone tag more often than not. However, rumor has it, she's been needing her Josh fix so badly that she's started the holiday cleaning several weeks early (If you're new to this blog, My mother is a good, sweet God-fearing woman who cleans like a fiend on crack when she's stressing out.) Rumor also has it, that she has only just set two rooms in her house to rights again, after dismantling them completely so that she could scrub down the walls and reorganize -- Lucky Devon...he's back home as a substitute teacher, and has been "volunteered" to help with all of these projects. Poor guy. Pity he doesn't know that living an hour and a half away gets me just out of reach of the Tropical Storm Marsha-The-Cleaning-Dervish. That said, every time we have talked to her on the phone, the first words out of Josh's mouth are, "CanIComeToGrammaMarsha'sHouseAnSpenTheNight?" Does it really count as a series of words when it's all squished together like that? But really, EVERY TIME, those are the first words he says...and then he repeats it every few minutes, just in case the answer will change. I feel like Mom must think we are standing by the phone holding up a cue card or manning a teleprompter and rubbing our hands gleefully together while we coach him through every word. (Well, I'm not..exactly :P...but Jon is rather gleeful.)

I had really wanted to take Josh trick-or-treating down Mom's way...the idea of taking him door to door in Z. seemed ludicrous...the city's just too big, and I'm just too dang skittish. Unfortunately, Mom's night falls on the same night we'd already decided to take Josh malling for his candy stash. We had thought that would be safer than traipsing about the streets, and we'll try Mom's next year. In the end, though, it was probably the best move we could have made...Josh's first costume was a puppy, complete with floppy ears and wag-eh-ly tail. He was pretty cute...and has been spending much of his time at home dressed in the little brown vest where he hops gamely around on all fours and "trees" the cats on his playground. We could ask him what Trick-Or-Treat was, and he would tell us that he would "dressupinmypuppycostume-angotomall-an get CandyCandyCandy" -- that extra ornery glint in Jon's eye is due to that last statement. (Jon's been indoctrinating Josh with the Garfield Holiday Specials...and "CandyCandyCandy" is an on-going mantra in one of them.) He was really excited to be in his puppy costume...and the mall wasn't as bad as I had expected. Josh played shy with the girls handing out the candy (shy, but with a hint of intentional eye-batting, I might add), was impressed with the little boy dressed as the dinosaur behind us...and really one of the best behaved kids there, no whining...no tantrums...just pretty good kid. He made most of the mall circuit and then simply decided that he was done and he wanted to go home...so we did, stopping at Wendy's for a quick bite, where he told all of the patrons and counter girls about his puppy costume and his CandyCandyCandy. They seemed quite impressed. Then we stopped by Harry and Helen's on the way home, and they gave him several candy bars and an apple -- and hoot of all hoots, what he wanted most was the apple. Hah! Now, I know this won't last...but so far, he only wants one piece of candy...of course he wants it after each meal and the moment he wakes up...but we've been parceling it out accordingly after his meals, and his little stash is still holding out quite well. We did a thorough job of check the candy before he could have it, mall candy or no....I was trying to do a thorough job of checking for caramels...and I think Jon was doing a thorough job of checking for Reeses...but it was a no-go on both counts.

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A couple of big things have been happening of late. In chrono-order, Jon got a promotion. Oh the joys of government...while I have enjoyed the Dance of the Red Tape (wherein everybody throws their umpteen-page applications at the Chicago office, they make a list and send it back to Jon's office, and then Jon's office sends back even more paperwork, to be answered with even more paperwork on top of that...Baryshnikov eat your heart out), I am glad that process is over. He hadn't been able to access his email for a few weeks, and had only JUST discovered that he made the best qualified list (comprised of about 12 people), and as he was walking out to the car at the end of that same day, the boss pulled him in and said, "I'd like to offer you this position." "And I'd like to accept that position!" Jon told him. I'm glad for him...I know he was more worried about the situation than I was...if he got the job, it would be helpful...but, honestly, on my end, if he didn't get the job, well, every door...a window. Poor Jon...he worries so much about us...more us than him, I know...and right now we're just going through the usual end of the year joys...including having to replace all four tires on our car simply because Jon felt that hydroplaning for miles on end was ultimately an impractical mode of transportation. We have upwards of 189, 000 on that little Honda...I think the next time the odometer turns, it will just say "More Miles Than God."

Next up, Denni, my wild and crazy sister (the one who is two weeks younger than I am) has gotten herself all engaged and gushy. She and Matt are off to Vegas on Dec. 21 to do the deed...and I have to say it's pretty cool. I confess, I maybe talked to Matt for about twenty minutes when I got a chance to meet him...and I had a hard time getting a good read on him, but according to Carrie (who's all cozy and happy and settling in nicely with new sprog, Alex Conrad, & Co.), Matt and Den somehow just fit...somehow, they have found in each other the one person in the world that works for them...and Carrie compared their relationship to mine and Jon's...and I hope with all of my heart that's the case...I've always felt Den needed a serious case of the happily-ever-afters. And Matt, should you read this, remember, she's a squirrel...but she was my squirrel...and I'm rather fond of her...so, just keep one little thing in mind. You are marrying into a "Herd"...and that Herd will happily go flippin' "Michael Flatley-Meister-Of-The-Dance" (thank you Dennis Leary) on your buttocks if you ever make her cry. (One of the guiding rules among the kids in my family...the one that perhaps Mom and Dad were never really aware of...was that if you messed with one of the D. Herd...you messed with the rest of the D. Herd. Even though Den has managed to do quite well for herself, I still remember standing down a curly-blond kid named Cisco on the bus when we were little because he was picking on her and making her cry. When he didn't stop, I swung my metal superhero/supervillans lunchbox and crashed it onto his head. The end result was that he had a knot on his head and his mom yelled at me...Denni wasn't amused because I think she was thinking of taking care of it...and I seriously dented my most favorite lunchbox of all time...until my ET lunchbox a few years later...but, again...just to bear in mind...Ebay has a LOT of metal lunchboxes. Believe me, I have checked.)

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Perhaps one of the most amazing things that has happened lately is that Barack Obama has been elected President. Jon was just happy that his job wasn't being threatened with a Dem securely in the office...but I tell you...I'm pretty close to being a True Believer on this one. I'm kind of wondering if this was how it felt for my mom's generation watching JKF and Bobby Kennedy just riding the tide of all that emotion. I've been reading so many articles lately saying that in 2030, we'll need a whole new planet just to keep pace with the current lifestyle...that the oceans will bottom out in less than twenty years...and yeah, I can't deny that has an effect on my mindset...my concerns for those I love...for our lives...and for what kind of world Josh was going to have to live in...and the stress of the election races weren't helping...so instead of watching the locals or CNN, Jon and I watched Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert (Love him, Love him, LOVE him!) ring in the Presidency...and after Jon and I laughed along for an hour...they announced that Obama had made it...that he had actually done it, and I stopped laughing so quickly that I got emotional whiplash and started sobbing hysterically for another hour or so. To think to think that I could be a witness to this moment...well...there simply aren't enough words. Long after Jon went to bed...I knelt beside Josh's crib and kissed his head, and then went to bed, wrapping my arms around my sleeping husband to hug him compulsively. Tears were still on my cheeks but a smile was on my lips...Maybe things will start getting better after all.

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