…and apparently today, Camille was not feeling like a baby. Or something else might be up, I don’t know. She has a cold, but it didn’t seem like that was keeping her up.
All I know is this: she did NOT want to take a nap. So she didn’t.
I know napping can be a battle of wills, but I think naps are important enough they’re worth the fight. Naps are good for babies. Naps are good for mommies and daddies too.
We went to a local book festival this morning, and she fell asleep in the car on the way home. For about five minutes. When we pulled into the drive way and she woke up, I joked, “See, you already took your nap for today! Ha ha!”
Oh evil prophecy.
She ate lunch, and I laid her down. She wasn’t thrilled, but sometimes she’ll complain a bit and then fall asleep. But sometimes if her diaper needs changing or something is making her uncomfortable, she’ll keep crying. So when she didn’t stop, Lee went to check on her. She’d been standing at the end of her crib and apparently her feet had slipped between the rails and she was stuck sitting there, with her little legs sticking out into the room. He freed her, but when he tried to lay her back down she screamed.
We gave her a little longer to work it out on her own. She’d cry. Then talk. Then quiet for a few seconds and I’d think she was finally asleep, then she’d cry some more. Finally, I went in. She was standing up and crying. She’d also managed to pull several pieces of dirty clothing from her laundry hamper into her crib through the rails. She’d been busy.
I picked her up. She fell asleep. I put her down. She screamed. It reminded me of having a 3 month old.
I left the room to give her another opportunity to cry it out. And to figure out what to do. We had to face the reality that she might not fall asleep. This had never happened to us before.
So we decided we’d make her stay in bed for the length of her usual naptime – two hours. Most of the time she wasn’t actually crying, just complaining. She may have even nodded off for a few seconds. But she didn’t sleep.
What really surprised me was how happy she was the rest of the afternoon. Shouldn’t she have been tired and fussy? I guess I should be glad she was in a good mood, but I also don’t want to think she’s outgrowing her nap – it’s too soon! The tiredness finally caught up with her when we got her ready for bed tonight, and she was asleep in my arms before I even laid her in the crib.
But right now, she’s coughing. Damn cold. Let my baby sleep. She needs it.
Sweet Stella-Bella (my nickname for her). So adorable. I can’t wait to see her in one week!
Happy Birthday Stella Marie! I nearly gave myself an ulcer today waiting for the news, but at 2:15, my niece was born!
Now I’m drumming my fingers and checking my email every 3 seconds to see if my brother has sent a picture yet. She’s 6 pounds, 12 ounces, 19 and a half inches, and has a head full of black hair. I can’t wait to see her!
It was hard not being there today, but we’re going to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with them next week, so I don’t have to wait too long. When I picked Camille up from baby school, I told her about Stella’s birth. She seemed more interested in the drawings of fish posted on the hallway walls, but one day I think she’ll understand how exciting this is. I enjoyed spending time with my cousins, and as Camille and Stella get older, I hope they will enjoy each other too (and not get into too much trouble together).
I’m excited for me as well. My brother and I have shared a lot, and I’m looking forward to sharing this parenting thing with him too.
I can’t believe I’m an aunt!
I spent my birthday weekend with Lee and Camille visiting one of my favorite families in the world, and it was a wonderful way to celebrate. I think the only person who may have enjoyed it more than me was sweet Camibear. The Valles home might as well have been Disneyworld (thank goodness Nikki and Andrew don’t charge admission, but maybe they should consider it!). New toys, two fun kids to play with – she was in heaven.
It’s also fun for me to see her tearing through other kids’ toys, because then I see what kinds of things she might like to have at home. But I was surprised by her favorite: a little plastic playhouse. Isn’t she too little to “play house?” I remember playing in one of those when I was much older, but apparently she needs one now.
Maybe she liked the fact that everything was kid-height. And ringing the doorbell on the playhouse was lots of fun too. She also liked the rocking-horse-on-springs way more than I thought she would. I think we can wait a little while to buy this for our house because she’s still a bit wobbly, but soon I have a feeling she’ll be ready to ride.
Speaking of riding ponies – I got to see Miss Nia take her first pony ride! The City of Winder was having an annual fall festival, and they had all kinds of fun things going on.
Cami and I rode the carousel. It’s been a while, and I have to admit I got all excited when the ride began. I mean, this is why we have kids, right? So we get to relive all the fun things children do, but under the guise of “doing this for the kids.” Camille seemed a little nervous, and spent most of the time watching the world spin while maintaining a death grip on my neck.
They even made me a birthday cake, complete with sprinkles and enormous birthday candles, which we tore into last night. Then, this morning, Camille slept in for two extra hours which was a terrific birthday gift. If this birthday was any indication of what I can expect from this next decade of my life, I’m in for a treat.
On April 21st, Luca got kicked out of the house. She bit Camille for the second time, and although she’d never done any real damage, I didn’t want to take a risk. So I tossed her onto our sunporch and there she has lived ever since.
She was pretty pitiful at first, not eating much (a BIG deal for this fat kitty), spending the whole time curled in her bed. But eventually she appeared to adjust somewhat. I think she liked the big windows. She still scratched at the panes of glass in our French door and sometimes and I’d feel a pang of guilt each time she meowed as we walked by, but she seemed okay. Not thrilled, but okay.
I worried about her being too hot during the summer, but the sun porch has a ceiling fan and is covered in shade, so she tolerated it. But now fall has arrived, and the last few days have brought chillier temperatures. It will likely dip into the 30s tomorrow, and although our winters are milder than some, we still see temps in the teens from time-to-time.
And I just can’t do that to her. She’s the type of cat who practically lives on top of the heater vents all winter long. She can’t stand the cold.
So I’ve been wrestling with my options, none of them palatable. At her last vet visit, I asked our veterinarian what to do. She said we could leave her on the sun porch, let her loose in the neighborhood and risk her getting mauled by another animal since she doesn’t have claws, or put her down. She also gave us the name and number of an animal behaviorist, and I feel terrible saying it, but that seems like a waste of money in this case. Luca bit me the first day I met her, and she’s been a biter for all of her 11 years. I don’t think a little therapy is going to cure her at this point.
So what to do? If I leave her outside, I’m a bad pet owner because she’ll freeze. She’ll look through the window like this:
…and she’ll shiver and my heart will break.
But if I let her in I’m being a bad mother because I’m exposing my child to the risk of a biting cat. And I’ve thought about it, I’ve really thought about it, but I don’t know how I can put her down. I know one day I may have to if she ever really goes after Camille. But right now, I’m having a hard time imagining taking her to the vet and deciding her life is over.
The best plan I can come up with for now is somewhat of a compromise. I’ve moved all her things into the laundry room, which isn’t heated but isn’t nearly as cold as the sun porch. On weekends and evenings when Camille is up and about, Luca will stay locked away. But during the work day and after Camille goes to bed, she can come out into the house.
We’ll see how long this plan lasts – but it’s the best I’ve got for now. She’s pardoned, but definitely not paroled. She’s walking on very thin ice.
Thanks Ben Franklin. Thanks for nothing.
Thanks for coming up with the idea of daylight saving time, or as I like to call it, screw-with-the-baby’s-sleep-schedule time.
I understand that this daylight saving time idea really took hold during a period of war as a way to conserve fuel. And I like fuel conservation. That’s nice. That’s green. But somebody please explain it to Camille.
She’s already an early-riser. Not ridiculously so – I’ve heard tales of babies who routinely get up at 5 a.m. – but still a little too early for her parents (who are NOT morning people.) Lately, she’s been getting up between 6:15 and 6:30, with some occasional slight variation.
Yesterday we took a trip to Jacksonville to visit Lee’s Dad, Donna and Granny. It was a good trip, made even easier by the fact that Camille snoozed the whole way there and back (after hugging on her little lamb – how cute!).
So we didn’t have too much trouble getting her to stay up an extra hour last night. We hoped that pushing her bedtime would also push her wake-up time an hour. Not so.
She was ready-to-go at 5:40 – oh, no wait, thanks to Ben Franklin, make that 4:40 this morning.
Ugh.
Poor Lee – it was his morning to get up early, and the guilt of it all kept me from going back to sleep very well. I really don’t care which time schedule we go with, standard or daylight-saving, but just pick one! And stick to it!
So, it’s not quite 9 p.m., but I’m about to go to bed. I’m on early morning duty tomorrow, and who knows how early that will be.
Curse you Ben Franklin and your incessant urge to enjoy more sunshine and conserve energy! Curse you!
As a candy-holic, I’ve always liked Halloween. But I was especially excited about this year, because we planned to take Camille trick-or-treating for the first time.
And it was so much fun! At least, I had fun. I think Camille thought it was okay. Interesting, perhaps. One day I’m sure the mere thought of all that door-to-door mayhem will send her into a fit of giggles, but last night I think she was wondering why I stuffed her into a fluffy duck outfit on a warm Savannah night.
Because it’s my maternal right! And duty, no less.
Miss Camille dressed as Ming-Ming Duckling from the Wonder Pets cartoon (my favorite character of course. Camille doesn’t really watch it). This was our inspiration:
Lee found a nice duck costume at Target, so all we had to do was add a Wonder Pets cape and an aviator hat. I thought the cape I made turned out well. The hat was more of a challenge, but Alva helped last weekend and came up with a creative strategy that involved an empty coolwhip container, some vinyl, and a hot glue gun. Unfortunately, I never could find the swimming goggles I’d planned to use to make the hat complete, but that’s okay because it only lasted for a few pics before she ripped it off repeatedly.
A Halloween Timeline
6:45 – Camille (a.k.a. Ming-Ming Duckling) is ready to Go! Go! Go!
6:46 – Camille is mad because we insist on taking pictures instead.
7:00 – Lee and Camille climb the steps of a neighbor’s walkway so she can have her first trick-or-treating experience. Will it be a trick? Or a treat?
7:05 – She got a kit-kat bar. Camille and Daddy walk back to the street. A small child is overheard saying, “She’s a Wonder Pet!” I am delighted. Most people apparently haven’t heard of the Wonder Pets. They don’t know what they’re missing.
7:15 – I help Camille select some sour green Nerds from another neighbor. I figured she’d like the way the box rattles. And I’d like to eat them for her.
7:30 – We’re back home. Two doors meant each parent had a chance to trick-or-treat with her, and I was fretting about how hot she must have been in that costume, so we made it a quick adventure. She looks exasperated, but I’m already looking forward to next year!
I was already a little annoyed to be working late. It was 7 p.m. after a full day of work, and I’d left my husband and baby at the house so I could go to a meeting on Tybee Island. I was cutting it close and nearly late. I pulled up to the building and, like everyone else who’d arrived before me, I parked in the grass. And felt my car sink a little.
It was not a good feeling.
Surely the mud wasn’t that deep. I decided to test out my traction, and shifted into reverse. Car wouldn’t budge. In drive. Car wouldn’t budge. Just the sound of spinning tires and flinging mud.
Two trucks pulled in next to me, so I asked the drivers if they could help. They both seemed nice but neither had a chain to pull me out. We all walked toward the building because otherwise we’d soon be officially late, and they said something about helping me later.
I sat in a metal folding chair feeling totally irritated. I’d hoped to get home in time to help put Camille to bed. Not that Lee couldn’t do it without me, but I like to kiss her good night. I hadn’t had dinner. And I was stuck.
Once my presentation was finished, I headed toward the back door, not sure what I was going to do. Call a tow truck? Wait indefinitely for the meeting to end in the hopes someone had a chain?
But the men who arrived with me spotted me leaving, and got up too. They grabbed a couple of others and accompanied me out. I protested, said they didn’t have to leave the meeting, but they wouldn’t hear it.
All four lined up in front of my car and pushed. They were willing to have mud slung at them while they sweated and strained, just to help a stranger.
My car inched backward, and regained traction. I was unstuck.
I’m very grateful to those four men. And I’m glad to live and work where people will still help you because it’s the right thing to do.
I want to write about friends. I want to write about missing them, but I just don’t want to sound so depressing. Even though it is depressing.
Trent left yesterday and took a little sunshine with him. When good friends or family are here, everything is usually a bit brighter. Not that things are usually dim – I’m very fortunate that this is usually a happy home. But when friends are here, we laugh even more. We talk even more. Maybe if all our family and friends lived here, it wouldn’t be so obvious. We’d take each other for granted. But when I only get to see some of my dearest friends in little doses here or there, I guess we work hard to soak each other in because we know there will be plenty of drought.
Thank goodness I have two very bright sunshines right here with me that keep me laughing.
Everyone kept telling me this was a lousy real estate market. Okay, okay, I’m a believer.
We sold our last house at just the right time. The housing market was still hot, we showed our house several times a week (sometimes several times a day), and had a contract in about three weeks.
We actually had an offer on this house about a month ago. A really, really low offer. So low I had to squint at the piece of paper for a while to be sure I was looking at the numbers right. We countered, and it fell through. I think they were hoping for a desperate seller, and we’re not that desperate. Yet. But we are a bit discouraged.
We’re not quite three months into this current venture, and I know that in this market, that’s a pretty short amount of time. We drive by houses all the time that have been on the market for ages, so I know it can be much worse. But trying to keep the house show ready with two full time jobs and a busy baby makes the months feel long.
The showings are very sporadic. We’ll get nothing for two or three weeks, then a flurry of showings. This pattern breeds complacency – so we keep the house really shiny for a few days, then start letting things go a little bit. Don’t vacuum as often. Leave some clutter out on the counters. We don’t do it intentionally, but life gets in the way.
That wouldn’t be so bad, except we’ve had several potential buyers who’ve given us practically NO notice that they want to see the house. Yesterday, for example. The realty office called and said a couple wanted to see the house. Right now. Except Lee and Trent (who is visiting for a few days!) were still asleep and the house was a wreck. We persuaded them to come back in a few hours, then busted our butts cleaning. This has happened several times, and I just can’t understand why people don’t give more of a warning. Ideally, we’d keep the house nearly show-ready all the time, and then just have to open the blinds and turn on all the lights then let ’em in. But I know better. That’s just not happening.
So, we’re in a house rut. We’re tired of the hassle of showing the house, and we’re ready to move forward (literally). But, considering the market, we know it could be a long, long haul.
