Dear Waitstaff at the restaurant we went to tonight:
Your food was great. The ambiance was nice. And the staff was certainly...enthusiastic. However, we do have a few suggestions for improvement:
(1) When referring to an infant, you should say something along the lines of "Your baby is adorable!" If you attempt to refer to the child by gender, you have a 50% chance of being wrong. For the most part, they're pretty androgynous during infancy and if you refer to a boy as a "she," the parents will probably be grouchy about it. You rely on tips. You shouldn't annoy people.
(2) You should really come up with some kind of system that lets your waitstaff know who is supposed to be serving which tables. The first three times we were asked for our order by different waiters, it was funny. After that? Not so much.
(3) By the same measure, it's also not so humorous when we're sitting there with empty glasses and none of the five waiters who previously came to check on us has brought us a refill.
(4) Bring the kid's food with the first course. Have you ever tried eating a bowl of soup at the same table as a jealous 2-year-old with no food in front of him?
(5) Do not try to take people's plates when they're in the bathroom. Especially when said plates are still FULL OF FOOD.
(6) When asked for a dessert menu, bring a dessert menu. AND THEN TAKE OUR DESSERT ORDER instead of disappearing for 10 minutes.
(7) When asked for the check, BRING THE CHECK. Again, do not disappear for 10 minutes until we have to complain to the manager. And then, when the manager tells you we're looking for our check, DO NOT come back to the table and ask if we'd like our check now. If we didn't want the darn check, WE WOULDN'T HAVE ASKED FOR IT TWICE.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Of Cats and Lizards
Lately, Luke's imagination has been taking off in leaps and bounds and I've been enjoying watching it develop. Yesterday, I was sitting down and nursing Weston when this conversation happened:
Luke: I see a lizard!
Me (not yet concerned because Yellow Cat likes playing with stretchy lizards): You do?
Luke: Yes, I do see a lizard. It's black!
Me (getting slightly concerned because we don't have a black toy lizard): Are you sure it's black?
Luke: Yes! There's a black lizard right there.
Me (a little bit more concerned, but knowing that if it's a toy, he'll happily touch it): Oh, could you bring it to me so I can see?
Luke, looking at me like I've lost my mind: It's a lizard. We do NOT touch lizards. We look with our eyes.
Me (very concerned now): Seriously? There's an actual lizard over there?
Luke: Yes, there actually is a black lizard.
So I get up and go over there, only to find Black Cat washing her paws and looking very annoyed at all the attention.
Luke: I see a lizard!
Me (not yet concerned because Yellow Cat likes playing with stretchy lizards): You do?
Luke: Yes, I do see a lizard. It's black!
Me (getting slightly concerned because we don't have a black toy lizard): Are you sure it's black?
Luke: Yes! There's a black lizard right there.
Me (a little bit more concerned, but knowing that if it's a toy, he'll happily touch it): Oh, could you bring it to me so I can see?
Luke, looking at me like I've lost my mind: It's a lizard. We do NOT touch lizards. We look with our eyes.
Me (very concerned now): Seriously? There's an actual lizard over there?
Luke: Yes, there actually is a black lizard.
So I get up and go over there, only to find Black Cat washing her paws and looking very annoyed at all the attention.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Well Visit
We had Weston's 2-month-appointment yesterday and it went pretty well. Buddha Baby is now 13 lbs, 13 oz, which puts him in the 90th percentile for weight and 24 inches long, which is in the 84th percentile. And he didn't even cry for his shots. (He did make a very sad, pouty face, though.)
One of the things I like about our pediatrician is that her two kids are 4-5 months older than each of my two kids, so our visits feel like a conversation among peers, rather than a doctor-patient relationship. Plus, she doesn't try to lecture me about things like co-sleeping or vaccinating on a (slightly) alternate schedule, so we get along just fine.
Speaking of vaccinating, our schedule is close to the recommended one, but instead of getting 4 shots every 2 months, we do 2 shots once a month. Which is apparently the hardest thing to schedule ever because the receptionist likes to make sure they are EXACTLY 31 days apart. I understand that two sets of shots have to be spaced a month apart, but? These are shots that are routinely given AT THE SAME TIME. So why, by virtue of our choice to split them up, do they have to be given 31 days apart instead of, say, 29?
One of the things I like about our pediatrician is that her two kids are 4-5 months older than each of my two kids, so our visits feel like a conversation among peers, rather than a doctor-patient relationship. Plus, she doesn't try to lecture me about things like co-sleeping or vaccinating on a (slightly) alternate schedule, so we get along just fine.
Speaking of vaccinating, our schedule is close to the recommended one, but instead of getting 4 shots every 2 months, we do 2 shots once a month. Which is apparently the hardest thing to schedule ever because the receptionist likes to make sure they are EXACTLY 31 days apart. I understand that two sets of shots have to be spaced a month apart, but? These are shots that are routinely given AT THE SAME TIME. So why, by virtue of our choice to split them up, do they have to be given 31 days apart instead of, say, 29?
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Big Questions
There's a moth stuck between my living room window and the outer screen. If I leave it in there, it will die. The only way to get it OUT of there is to open my window. In which case, it will be inside the living room. I don't WANT a moth in my living room. But neither do I want a dead moth stuck between the window and the screen. All of this, of course, begs the question: how on earth did the stupid moth GET between the window and the screen in the first place?
I planted some green beans and some squash plants because my friend had them and offered them to me. Do I know anything about green bean or squash plants? Of course not. Have I ever, in the history of my life, been able to keep a plant alive? Again, no. So why did I agree to be responsible for these plants?
Before I had Weston, I had all kinds of good ideas for matching, sibling Halloween costumes. I wish I'd written them down because now, I have none. What on earth are these children going to be?
Luke's current obsession is putting things into his nose. Or his ears. I know kids do this. I know it's common. But for goodness sake, WHY?
I tried mopping our floor with stuff that was advertised as hardwood cleaner and ended up with a gross, filmy floor. So then, I tried other stuff, which left it looking a little better, but still not great. You know what finally worked? Two drops of soap in a bucket of hot water. I'm not even joking. Why hasn't anyone marketed THAT as hardwood cleaner?
I planted some green beans and some squash plants because my friend had them and offered them to me. Do I know anything about green bean or squash plants? Of course not. Have I ever, in the history of my life, been able to keep a plant alive? Again, no. So why did I agree to be responsible for these plants?
Before I had Weston, I had all kinds of good ideas for matching, sibling Halloween costumes. I wish I'd written them down because now, I have none. What on earth are these children going to be?
Luke's current obsession is putting things into his nose. Or his ears. I know kids do this. I know it's common. But for goodness sake, WHY?
I tried mopping our floor with stuff that was advertised as hardwood cleaner and ended up with a gross, filmy floor. So then, I tried other stuff, which left it looking a little better, but still not great. You know what finally worked? Two drops of soap in a bucket of hot water. I'm not even joking. Why hasn't anyone marketed THAT as hardwood cleaner?
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Two!
Weston turned two months yesterday and I'm starting to remember how much I love two-month-olds. The random crying doesn't happen anymore--when he's fussing, it's almost always because he's tired now. Before he was born, I thought, "Oh, when the baby cries, I'll just nurse him and whether he's hungry or sleepy, that should take care of it because babies LOVE to nurse to sleep." As usual, the Universe decided to thwart my plans by giving me the one baby on the planet who does not, in fact, like to nurse to sleep. Instead, he prefers to be rocked with a pacifier. I mean, do you KNOW how much time and effort I spent making sure Luke took a pacifier because I didn't want him to be too reliant on nursing for comfort? And now that I'm over that particular brand of insanity, when I'm perfectly willing to nurse my baby to comfort him, I get the baby who wants a pacifier. Are you kidding me?!
He still doesn't like to sleep anywhere other than on my person, but that works out just fine for us because it means that I can still put him in a sling and go about my day, instead of being stuck at home when he's napping. He particularly enjoys napping in the great outdoors--parks, hiking trails, the backyard.
He started smiling about three weeks ago and since then, McMoose, Luke, and I have been making fools of ourselves trying to get him to smile. McMoose can make him smile almost instantly and he'll smile at Luke, as long as Luke doesn't get too close. (This might have something to do with the fact that when Luke DOES get too close, he tends to try to pick Weston up by his head or poke his ears or hug him with entirely too much enthusiasm and it's pretty hard to smile when you're being manhandled by someone who's almost three times your size.) When he sees me, on the other hand, his first thought is, "Holy cow, it's been FOREVER since I ate. I might even be starving. Must have food...WAAAAAAHHH!" So all of his mama-smiles are strictly reserved for AFTER he eats.
He enjoys his swing and seems to believe that the little stuffed animals hanging above it are his friends. He smiles at them. He talks to them. He tries oh-so-hard to reach them. Unfortunately, his limbs don't quite do what he wants them to yet, so while he's busily trying to get his arm to reach up and grab the stuffed animals, it comes and smacks him on the head instead.
He likes it when I put him in the carrier and sweep or mop the floors. He doesn't like it when I try to put away the laundry, possibly because I keep bumping hangers into his head. He's still not a fan of riding in the car--especially in the evening. I don't know why, but he's much more willing to sit in the carseat in the morning than he is later in the day. His favorite time of day is bath time and there comes a time every evening when he starts grumbling at me and the only way to fix him is to give him a bath. (Actually, he calms down as soon as he hears us turn the faucet on. What can I say? The kid knows what he wants.)
He gets called all kinds of nicknames, but he's starting to look at us when we say his name. We have his two-month doctor visit next week, so I don't know what his official weight is right now, but here's what I do know: the pants he's wearing right now? Have dirt stains on the knees. Why, you ask? Because Luke was wearing them WHEN HE WAS CRAWLING. And just as a point of reference, Luke started crawling when he was seven months old, which means that Weston is wearing the clothes Luke wore as a seven-month-old at the ripe old age of NINE WEEKS. I'm pretty sure that if he could talk, he'd ask for a steak.
I do have pictures for the month, but what I don't have is any idea where the camera cord might be packed, so pictures will be up at some point in the (hopefully) not too distant future.
He still doesn't like to sleep anywhere other than on my person, but that works out just fine for us because it means that I can still put him in a sling and go about my day, instead of being stuck at home when he's napping. He particularly enjoys napping in the great outdoors--parks, hiking trails, the backyard.
He started smiling about three weeks ago and since then, McMoose, Luke, and I have been making fools of ourselves trying to get him to smile. McMoose can make him smile almost instantly and he'll smile at Luke, as long as Luke doesn't get too close. (This might have something to do with the fact that when Luke DOES get too close, he tends to try to pick Weston up by his head or poke his ears or hug him with entirely too much enthusiasm and it's pretty hard to smile when you're being manhandled by someone who's almost three times your size.) When he sees me, on the other hand, his first thought is, "Holy cow, it's been FOREVER since I ate. I might even be starving. Must have food...WAAAAAAHHH!" So all of his mama-smiles are strictly reserved for AFTER he eats.
He enjoys his swing and seems to believe that the little stuffed animals hanging above it are his friends. He smiles at them. He talks to them. He tries oh-so-hard to reach them. Unfortunately, his limbs don't quite do what he wants them to yet, so while he's busily trying to get his arm to reach up and grab the stuffed animals, it comes and smacks him on the head instead.
He likes it when I put him in the carrier and sweep or mop the floors. He doesn't like it when I try to put away the laundry, possibly because I keep bumping hangers into his head. He's still not a fan of riding in the car--especially in the evening. I don't know why, but he's much more willing to sit in the carseat in the morning than he is later in the day. His favorite time of day is bath time and there comes a time every evening when he starts grumbling at me and the only way to fix him is to give him a bath. (Actually, he calms down as soon as he hears us turn the faucet on. What can I say? The kid knows what he wants.)
He gets called all kinds of nicknames, but he's starting to look at us when we say his name. We have his two-month doctor visit next week, so I don't know what his official weight is right now, but here's what I do know: the pants he's wearing right now? Have dirt stains on the knees. Why, you ask? Because Luke was wearing them WHEN HE WAS CRAWLING. And just as a point of reference, Luke started crawling when he was seven months old, which means that Weston is wearing the clothes Luke wore as a seven-month-old at the ripe old age of NINE WEEKS. I'm pretty sure that if he could talk, he'd ask for a steak.
I do have pictures for the month, but what I don't have is any idea where the camera cord might be packed, so pictures will be up at some point in the (hopefully) not too distant future.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Calm as a Cucumber
Smell is the sense that's most closely related to memory and emotion.
When Luke was about five months old, I stopped sleeping. For a couple of months, I slept in fits and snatches when I just couldn't stay awake any more. I was convinced that if I fell asleep, if I let my eyes stay closed long enough, my world would spin to an end while I wasn't looking. Every morning, I stood at the window watching McMoose drive off to work and fought waves of nausea because I was convinced he'd be in an accident and it would be the last time we saw him. I sat and held Luke while he napped because I thought that if I put him down, he'd stop breathing and I wouldn't know until it was too late to help him. I don't remember if the anxiety came first or the insomnia, but they fed into each other until I felt like the universe was constantly on the brink of disaster.
Recently, I've been trying to remember why I was that anxious. By that time, Luke was happy, he was eating well and gaining weight well, he was sleeping well. Objectively speaking, there was no real reason for it. And if it could happen out of the blue like that the first time, it could happen again, right? So I've been trying to remember what it felt like. And the thing is, I couldn't remember. It was like trying to remember what labor contractions felt like--when you're not there, you just can't recapture the feeling.
Except that smell is the sense that's most closely linked to memory and emotion. I used to drink this herbal tea constantly when Luke was a baby, but I hadn't had any since. Last night, I was rummaging through our half-unpacked pantry to find some tea bags and since I found a box of those herbal tea bags that I had left over, I decided to just use that. And the instant I brewed that cup of tea, my stomach knotted up and I felt like I was taking a trip back to two years ago.
As much as I didn't appreciate that particular, unexpected walk down memory lane, it was re-assuring to remember exactly how awful that anxiety felt because now, I know that all the little stresses I feel during the day? They aren't that. When I'm frustrated that Luke is moving at a snail's pace or annoyed because I'm sitting in traffic while Weston is SCREAMING from his car seat, it isn't that. And thank goodness for that.
When Luke was about five months old, I stopped sleeping. For a couple of months, I slept in fits and snatches when I just couldn't stay awake any more. I was convinced that if I fell asleep, if I let my eyes stay closed long enough, my world would spin to an end while I wasn't looking. Every morning, I stood at the window watching McMoose drive off to work and fought waves of nausea because I was convinced he'd be in an accident and it would be the last time we saw him. I sat and held Luke while he napped because I thought that if I put him down, he'd stop breathing and I wouldn't know until it was too late to help him. I don't remember if the anxiety came first or the insomnia, but they fed into each other until I felt like the universe was constantly on the brink of disaster.
Recently, I've been trying to remember why I was that anxious. By that time, Luke was happy, he was eating well and gaining weight well, he was sleeping well. Objectively speaking, there was no real reason for it. And if it could happen out of the blue like that the first time, it could happen again, right? So I've been trying to remember what it felt like. And the thing is, I couldn't remember. It was like trying to remember what labor contractions felt like--when you're not there, you just can't recapture the feeling.
Except that smell is the sense that's most closely linked to memory and emotion. I used to drink this herbal tea constantly when Luke was a baby, but I hadn't had any since. Last night, I was rummaging through our half-unpacked pantry to find some tea bags and since I found a box of those herbal tea bags that I had left over, I decided to just use that. And the instant I brewed that cup of tea, my stomach knotted up and I felt like I was taking a trip back to two years ago.
As much as I didn't appreciate that particular, unexpected walk down memory lane, it was re-assuring to remember exactly how awful that anxiety felt because now, I know that all the little stresses I feel during the day? They aren't that. When I'm frustrated that Luke is moving at a snail's pace or annoyed because I'm sitting in traffic while Weston is SCREAMING from his car seat, it isn't that. And thank goodness for that.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
House of Comedy (And Illness)
Luke was eight months old the first time he got sick. And I was very grateful, because I could not, for the life of me, figure out how we all would have survived that illness had he been any younger. He nursed constantly, he refused to sleep, and he acted generally insane.
As it turns out, acting insane is just how he handles sickness, as he has continued that particular habit with every illness over the past two years. Right now, for example, he has a little cold. A very little cold. He sneezed a few times, coughed a few times, and his nose seems to have developed and On/Off switch because it starts running at random times. And since I didn't want to spread this around to other, unsuspecting children, I kept him home from open gym today. As a result of which Luke's morning looked like this:
-Ate a plate of grapes. Fed me some grapes. Tried to feed McMoose some grapes. Threatened to feed Weston some grapes. I take his threats seriously because a few days ago, I had to extract a cracker out of my not-quite-2-month-old-baby's mouth.
-Asked what we were doing today. Yelled at me when I told him we were staying home.
-Ate a granola bar.
-Ate a bowl of oatmeal with raisins.
-Demanded a second bowl of oatmeal, only to pick out all the raisins and refuse to eat the rest. When I asked him why he didn't just ask for plain raisins, he informed me that he likes "wet" raisins better than dry ones. Seriously?
-Ran in crazy, hyper circles around the house and made me chase him. Screamed at the top of his lungs. Non-stop.
-Ate a cheese stick.
I mean, when I'm sick, I like to cuddle under a blanket and sleep a lot, but apparently, fighting your nap and running in crazy circles is a far better option.
Of course, Luke's sickness is also Weston's sickness and he has his own brand of crazy. By which I mean that he thinks sneezing is hysterical. He grins when he sneezes. He grins when Luke sneezes. In fact, even if he's in the middle of crying, he'll stop and grin when he hears a sneeze. And like his brother, he apparently also needs less sleep when he's sick, as evidenced by the fact that he--and therefore, I--woke up a full 2 hours earlier than normal. Awesome.
As it turns out, acting insane is just how he handles sickness, as he has continued that particular habit with every illness over the past two years. Right now, for example, he has a little cold. A very little cold. He sneezed a few times, coughed a few times, and his nose seems to have developed and On/Off switch because it starts running at random times. And since I didn't want to spread this around to other, unsuspecting children, I kept him home from open gym today. As a result of which Luke's morning looked like this:
-Ate a plate of grapes. Fed me some grapes. Tried to feed McMoose some grapes. Threatened to feed Weston some grapes. I take his threats seriously because a few days ago, I had to extract a cracker out of my not-quite-2-month-old-baby's mouth.
-Asked what we were doing today. Yelled at me when I told him we were staying home.
-Ate a granola bar.
-Ate a bowl of oatmeal with raisins.
-Demanded a second bowl of oatmeal, only to pick out all the raisins and refuse to eat the rest. When I asked him why he didn't just ask for plain raisins, he informed me that he likes "wet" raisins better than dry ones. Seriously?
-Ran in crazy, hyper circles around the house and made me chase him. Screamed at the top of his lungs. Non-stop.
-Ate a cheese stick.
I mean, when I'm sick, I like to cuddle under a blanket and sleep a lot, but apparently, fighting your nap and running in crazy circles is a far better option.
Of course, Luke's sickness is also Weston's sickness and he has his own brand of crazy. By which I mean that he thinks sneezing is hysterical. He grins when he sneezes. He grins when Luke sneezes. In fact, even if he's in the middle of crying, he'll stop and grin when he hears a sneeze. And like his brother, he apparently also needs less sleep when he's sick, as evidenced by the fact that he--and therefore, I--woke up a full 2 hours earlier than normal. Awesome.
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