I'm suddenly scared that B.'s inching so close to turning 4 months old (only nine days now).
I am also shaking in fear over this little phrase: 4-month sleep regression.
I found this link through a friend's Web site, and my issue is clear.
B. is sleeping through the night. Well. He has about one or two nights a week -- max -- where he'll wake up. Once. It's usually a quick fix and either C. or I am back in bed in 20 minutes. We're never awake more than an hour. On average, he's going to bed between 10 and 11 at night and waking up about 7 or 8.
We don't have bags under our eyes and are nowhere near the sleep-deprivation state we were in just after birth. This is real.
I'm hoping the so-called regression is not.
P.S. I realized I just jinxed myself for patting B., C. and myself on the back for all the Zs being had in our household and I'll be subjected to inconsolable late-night fits for the next century. Shame on me.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Throwback Thursday
So where do you think B. gets his cheeks? This is me at 6 months. Loving the old jar of Avon skin cream on the shelf.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Popcorn, please
If you ignore the hideous singing by yours truly, you can hear the blissful sound of my son laughing heartily.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Only in the city
I know I complain a lot about having to walk part of the way to work, but on the nice days, it really is a treat.
Not only can I admire the tall buildings, I get overloaded with people watching.
I see cars whipping by, people on cell phones at the wheel, not really seeing that I, the pedestrian, am there.
I see parents walking with their children, hands wrapped tightly together.
I see businessmen, businesswomen, citizens appearing for business at the Denver City and County Building, I see people enjoying a sunny winter day at Civic Center Park.
Nearby, a woman with her little girl in pajamas with skid-proof soles and a parka sit on the grass, eating bite-size foods out of a small plastic bag. Cheerios?
Cyclists. Panhandlers. Wanderers. Lawyers. Policemen. Students. Everyone is there.
And I even get to enjoy the views late at night on my drive home. Sometimes I drive by the Denver Coliseum on my way to I-70, sometimes straight past Coors Field. That's the route I chose last night when I spied this mural on the side of Snooze restaurant.
Yep, only in the city can you find oompa loompas, Augustus Gloop and Charlie himself.
Not only can I admire the tall buildings, I get overloaded with people watching.
I see cars whipping by, people on cell phones at the wheel, not really seeing that I, the pedestrian, am there.
I see parents walking with their children, hands wrapped tightly together.
I see businessmen, businesswomen, citizens appearing for business at the Denver City and County Building, I see people enjoying a sunny winter day at Civic Center Park.
Nearby, a woman with her little girl in pajamas with skid-proof soles and a parka sit on the grass, eating bite-size foods out of a small plastic bag. Cheerios?
Cyclists. Panhandlers. Wanderers. Lawyers. Policemen. Students. Everyone is there.
And I even get to enjoy the views late at night on my drive home. Sometimes I drive by the Denver Coliseum on my way to I-70, sometimes straight past Coors Field. That's the route I chose last night when I spied this mural on the side of Snooze restaurant.
Yep, only in the city can you find oompa loompas, Augustus Gloop and Charlie himself.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
As promised ...
...photos from Chinese New Year.
C. with a creature peering over his shoulder.
B. peeks out to watch the action.
In other discovery news, while B.'s been sucking on his fists for weeks, he finally really saw them for the first time. There he sat in my lap, right hand outstretched in front of his face, fingers extended and eyes wide and curious.
He slowly rotated his chubby wrist, carefully taking stock of every knuckle, fingernail and dimple in his hand. This lasted for at least a full minute!
C. with a creature peering over his shoulder.
B. peeks out to watch the action.
In other discovery news, while B.'s been sucking on his fists for weeks, he finally really saw them for the first time. There he sat in my lap, right hand outstretched in front of his face, fingers extended and eyes wide and curious.
He slowly rotated his chubby wrist, carefully taking stock of every knuckle, fingernail and dimple in his hand. This lasted for at least a full minute!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Baby's first...
...Chinese New Year, or Spring Festival, celebration.
And it all was by accident.
The family and I went over to Grandma's house, then we joined her boyfriend for some dinner at Heaven Dragon in Arvada. (Its sister store in Thornton is the one President Bush orders from anytime Air Force One stops in the area. He's even honored with his own special on the menu. Lest you worry, it's not what C. and I ordered.)
We weren't expecting festivities bringing in the Year of the Rat, but while we munched on kung pao chicken, lemon chicken, a Happy Family combo, rice and egg rolls, a loud crackling of fireworks outside the front door caught our attention. Teen-age boys in dragon and lion costumes began snaking through the tables. Drum beats echoed through the dining room. Then a pair of young boys came through in their costume, stopping long enough at my side to pose for a photo. The boy in front was busy maneuvering the mouth, ears and eyes on his bright costume.
I heard crying, but knew it wasn't B. I looked over at him in his carseat, and he was sleeping soundly. The noise came from the table next to ours. A little blond-haired girl was crouched underneath by her mom's legs, plugging her ears. The tears left tiny wet tracks down her cheeks.
The fireworks didn't wake or startle B., but later some of the other commotion did. Either that or he just had to see what was going on.
I promise pictures later.
And it all was by accident.
The family and I went over to Grandma's house, then we joined her boyfriend for some dinner at Heaven Dragon in Arvada. (Its sister store in Thornton is the one President Bush orders from anytime Air Force One stops in the area. He's even honored with his own special on the menu. Lest you worry, it's not what C. and I ordered.)
We weren't expecting festivities bringing in the Year of the Rat, but while we munched on kung pao chicken, lemon chicken, a Happy Family combo, rice and egg rolls, a loud crackling of fireworks outside the front door caught our attention. Teen-age boys in dragon and lion costumes began snaking through the tables. Drum beats echoed through the dining room. Then a pair of young boys came through in their costume, stopping long enough at my side to pose for a photo. The boy in front was busy maneuvering the mouth, ears and eyes on his bright costume.
I heard crying, but knew it wasn't B. I looked over at him in his carseat, and he was sleeping soundly. The noise came from the table next to ours. A little blond-haired girl was crouched underneath by her mom's legs, plugging her ears. The tears left tiny wet tracks down her cheeks.
The fireworks didn't wake or startle B., but later some of the other commotion did. Either that or he just had to see what was going on.
I promise pictures later.
Friday, February 08, 2008
Handwriting
I saw my dad's handwriting yesterday, which surprised me since it was in my checkbook ledger.
Two entries. Four letters. Four numbers. NMSU. 41.97.
Just as he would write it. Written by me.
It reminded me of a tribute book for my grandmother's 80th birthday that all the family members wrote in. On the first page, I saw my brother's handwriting. But he hadn't been there and couldn't have written it in person. The reason? Dad wrote it. A cousin said it was our late grandfather's way of making sure everyone was spoken for. I'll say.
So I guess I write like my dad. Sometimes I write like my mom. Sometimes I do things that remind me of both parents. I'm organized like Dad while being slightly chaotic like Mom. I sneeze like Mom. I yawn like Mom. I work crosswords like Dad. Sometimes, I can't finish a sentence or a train of thought, like Dad.
Trying to digest all this, I thought of the things B. will do that remind C. and I of one of us. Already, I watch C. sleep and look at B. They pucker their lips the same way when they snooze. I've seen B. smile and C.'s dimple emerges on B.'s left cheek.
What traits will he pick up from me? Only time will tell. But it sure will be fun watching it all unfold.
Two entries. Four letters. Four numbers. NMSU. 41.97.
Just as he would write it. Written by me.
It reminded me of a tribute book for my grandmother's 80th birthday that all the family members wrote in. On the first page, I saw my brother's handwriting. But he hadn't been there and couldn't have written it in person. The reason? Dad wrote it. A cousin said it was our late grandfather's way of making sure everyone was spoken for. I'll say.
So I guess I write like my dad. Sometimes I write like my mom. Sometimes I do things that remind me of both parents. I'm organized like Dad while being slightly chaotic like Mom. I sneeze like Mom. I yawn like Mom. I work crosswords like Dad. Sometimes, I can't finish a sentence or a train of thought, like Dad.
Trying to digest all this, I thought of the things B. will do that remind C. and I of one of us. Already, I watch C. sleep and look at B. They pucker their lips the same way when they snooze. I've seen B. smile and C.'s dimple emerges on B.'s left cheek.
What traits will he pick up from me? Only time will tell. But it sure will be fun watching it all unfold.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Monday, February 04, 2008
Across the miles
It's been a week since I've seen Grandpa, Uncle M. (or Uncle "Mick" as Grandpa has tagged him), Aunt M. and cousins
M. & E. in Minnesota (my first plane trip, by the way, and it wasn't bad at all! I didn't cry, which made Mom, Dad and our fellow travelers quite happy).
I wish we didn't live so far apart from each other, and I just wanted to say I love and miss you very much! Can't wait to see you again.
Love, B.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Sights and sounds
Walking to work yesterday, I was crossing the City and County Building steps when a very irate man stomped by, yelling into his cell phone in a very intimidating, booming voice:
A woman about a dozen paces behind him was walking the opposite direction of me. When our eyes met, we both giggled, wondering who was in trouble on the other end of the line.
Also seen and heard yesterday during work, snow flurries accompanied by thunder? Lightning? Yes, folks, it was the most bizarre thing I've ever seen in all my years living in Denver, where our motto is, "Don't like the weather? Wait 5 minutes."
I don't want to see him in that f**king house. You want to see him, go somewhere else.
A woman about a dozen paces behind him was walking the opposite direction of me. When our eyes met, we both giggled, wondering who was in trouble on the other end of the line.
Also seen and heard yesterday during work, snow flurries accompanied by thunder? Lightning? Yes, folks, it was the most bizarre thing I've ever seen in all my years living in Denver, where our motto is, "Don't like the weather? Wait 5 minutes."
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