This Guy

I haven't written about him in awhile because the squeaky wheel gets the grease, you know, but he? Is awesome.

Also a really big fan of spaghetti-o's and pudding.



This is the face he made in response to the question, "Can I see your funniest face ever?" Note it is also his scariest face, his best baby charming face, his best pirate face, and the face he would make if his face could freeze a certain way.

Clearly, he likes school. Also, he toppled over from the weight of his back pack mere seconds after I took this picture. He is bringing Jack to class for show-and-tell. I thought he'd pick something weird, since he's kind of an odd little guy. For a few minutes, he wanted to bring my straightening iron, but I asked him what he would tell his class about it, and he couldn't think of anything besides, "It's mommy's. It's really hot. No play with it! " So he decided he'd bring "my baby Jack" instead. Then I melted into a frumpy little mommy puddle at his fat feet.

All the books preschoolers lug around these days-- knocked him right over. (Actually, his bag is full of diapers, wipes, and a change of clothes. Rigorous academic curriculum, I tell you.)

These Last 5 Months Have Been a Blur

See what I mean?

Does it really seem like five months since I peed my pants and then a couple of days later had a baby?

Jack looks fairly incredulous, too.


But it's true.


The prnted sign would never lie.


Jack is, in fact, 5 months old.


It's no longer possible for us to remember life before him (although we think it had more time for sleep and personal hygiene, and I am pretty sure that I used to get more mani/pedis). Every time I put him in his car seat or take him out, I bury my face in the back of his squishy little neck, and every time I plop him on the changing table, I cover his fat little thighs with kisses. He laughs and laughs when we zerbert his tummy, so we zerbert him a lot because this may be the last time our house is full of baby giggles.

We still think this little guy is baby number last (at least biological baby last), and while this thought is comforting when angry no-nap screams are bouncing off our walls, every time I see his dimpled little knuckles and fat shiny wrists, I miss the baby he'll only be for a few more months.

A Face Only a Mother Could Love. Also the Pumpkin Spice Latte Is Back.

Seriously, this kid is fugly sometimes. He really does not take a good picture. And to top it all off, he really doesn't even have a very good personality.

He hasn't slept, for example, in 3 days. I mean, he falls asleep but does not stay that way. He has woken up every 10 minutes for the past 3 nights. And he hasn't taken any naps.

I had to cancel my weekly housecleaner today because I thought he was sick and had to reschedule our whole morning to take him to the doctor.

Baby not sick.

House not clean.

About that, what the hell is wrong with me? Do I have PPD?

I have been FREAKING out about the state of my house. I MOVE THE FURNITURE to clean behind it the day before the cleaning service comes. I get up on a chair and wash all the blades of all the ceiling fans the day before the service comes. Yesterday, I chortled with pure joy because I finally figured out how to get all the dust off the refrigerator vents (at least I think that's what they're called-- the little slats at the bottom of the fridge, underneath the door-- you know, the ones that are only visible if you are laying on your stomach on the kitchen floor, which no one ever is but me on cleaning day) the day before the service was supposed to come. I cleaned the china cabinet inside and out, made Ben dust all the mini blinds and clean the tracks of all the windows, scrubbed the inside and outside of the fridge, and used two Erasers worth of Magic washing the walls (suddenly, our walls are filthy bout 36 inches off the ground, hmmm-- I wonder why)-- all the day before my house was scheduled to be cleaned. I mean, it's one thing to pick up all the toys before the cleaners come. It's even okay to clean those hard-to-reach spots that they seem to always neglect or those special places that you want to be really clean. But giving the whole place a deep clean every Sunday so that people can come over and do it again (only not as well-- never as well) on Monday? That's some kind of crazy.

Part of it, surely, is that I am procrastinating my project (like always). Part of it, I think, is that our lives are totally crazy and in flux right now as we adapt to new schedules and longer work hours, and I am trying to have control over just this one teeny little aspect of my world. Part of it, though, might be something else.

Where is the line between sleep deprivation and depression?

This was about the time (4-5 months) post partum when I totally lost my shit after having Harry, and the hormonal writing is on the wall: I'm losing a cat's worth of hair from my head everyday; I am really anxious about everything, and I feel like I am about to fly off the handle at every little annoyance. And I have a 2 year-old, so there are a lot of little annoyances.

So Jack is not sick. The doctor said teeth, but that they are not coming in any time soon. Freaking awesome.

As for me? I don't know what's going on. But I am turning into Mommy Dearest. Harry asked me if I was mad when I was cleaning this weekend, and I almost said, "I'm not mad at you Harry. I'm mad at the dirt," when I remembered that if you replaced "Harry" with "Helga" that's a line straight from the movie.

Blech. Back to work. Thank god for my favorite fall drink.

2, Too

Remember how I mentioned that we went to Max's 2nd birthday party?

Well, we did. I have pictures. Lots of pictures.

Jack meeting his great grandma J



Jack showing off his impressive height

Harry being super bossy

Jack, the life of the party

Max blowing out his candles



Harry opening a gift from his great grandma J

Jack and Harry modeling their super cool dino robot shirts (Harry was crabby)


And then pretty much the bath time/bedtime cluster I showed you last week.




I know this is a super lame post, but I am so freaking tired and behind in every possible aspect of my life. If a teething Jack ever goes to sleep, (he did not sleep last night) perhaps I can ready a few more entries.

(Oooh-- Ben and I went on a DATE last night. To a nice restaurant where we could actually stay long enough to have dessert and to a bar where we each enjoyed half a drink-- me a bloody mary with n impressive amount of relishes on a stick and him a Hendrick's and tonic).

I am so tired.

Also, if I am supposed to call you or email you...sorry. I am so working on it.

Monkey

I think if you are someone who does not believe that humans share an ancestor with other primates, then you should look at my baby. Practically a chimp. Also, we no longer have an Exersaucer because someone could not keep his 36-inch self out of it for even a minute and was constantly getting stuck and screaming. Also, that someone can count to ten in Spanish, leading me to revise my earlier position about Noggin being preschool on TV.

Jack is five months old next week, and he has outgrown all of his clothes, and I think he is teething, and I really didn't notice all of this until I realized how old he is. Then all of the sudden, the cascade of drool on his chin/chest/ankles and his 3/4 length sleeves and awkward capris all made sense.

Working Mom

Today, against my better judgement, I took Jack to work. I mean, I am supposed to take him with me today, but Ben has been working ridiculous hours this week, and I almost lose my marbles every night by bath time, so I thought maybe just this one time, I'd leave Jack at home, but he was sleeping so cute in the car after Little Gym that I figured what the hell.

Clearly, he has been trouble.


This is what I have been working on today:

My super professional wall of snapshots. Klassy, huh? Those paintings are Harry originals, by the way.

Also really professional? My credenza that holds toys instead of books and thrilling research.

Just so you know, Jack crapped through his clothes and barfed all over me before he fell asleep, so it hasn't all been smooth sailing.

And I also spent my at work time getting coffee, Swiffering my office floor, hoping a bunch of crap doesn't fall off the wall and crush Jack, and staring out my office windows at a lovely rooftop garden across the way.

In other words, ye olde dissertation is revising itself.

Unscheduled Meltdown

We went to Max's 2nd birthday party on Saturday and had a ton of fun. Harry and Jack, however, both cried all the friggin way home because they were so off their schedules. Blech. (And when Harry saw the sandbox in Max's backyard, he exclaimed, "Oh no! I forgot my shovel!")

Instead of pictures (which I have), how about these videos of our Saturday night chaos?

Also, yes, those PJs match-- I am going to dress them exactly alike until they express sartorial preference.)


Untitled from sarah on Vimeo.


Untitled from sarah on Vimeo.