Momma Earth vs. The World Series

There's just something really comforting about a good, dark, October rain. The kind that lasts all day long and will not stop short like a summer shower in June. The kind that makes cars and their drivers forget what to do exactly. The sort of weather that makes dogs sleepy and toddlers sleepier, thus affording a guilt-free Mom's Day to unwind. This is the type of rain that is going on here right now as I type. It is sideways, cold, stomping, and if I may add: a little furious. If I think of our earth as a woman I would have to guess that she is PMS'ing and having herself a good cry over a (half eaten) box of Oreos while watching 'Dirty Jobs.' Achem, not all women need "The Notebook" to connect with their inner woes.

It certainly is not hard to sit back and relax while Momma Earth vents a few of her own sorrows. I know it's the least I can do considering the closest to giving back I've done, as of late, is to avoid taking long baths and to rinse out the many recyclables our household consumes. It's my pleasure to let her unleash a few million soggy clouds as long as she wants and to hope that somehow maybe it helps get us all back on track, just like a no-nonsense pity party is designed to do.

As the trash cans skid across the street outside (still not used to Tues. as "Trash Day"), the flowers bob happily in their beds, and the neighbor's Halloween decorations whip with angst on their hooks I will sit in my office and daydream about Mother Earth entrusting us to stay indoors, observe, and perhaps give thanks for her usual sunny disposition wherever we are in her lap. It's a good place to be and I for one am happy to witness her depth of character today, first-hand, as this rare and lengthy precip-fest wreaks havoc on downspouts, recess, and the World Series. Just like a scorned woman to have the most impeccable timing.

Tantrums

Yikes, it's already the end of Oct. and I haven't written since the beginning. I'm sorry my devoted bloggees. I will try to be more together in the future (she says with a hint of dubious self-doubt).

First off, I have to tout the newest read. Emergency read actually if you're curious. After the kind of weekend Andy and I had, we needed parental help in the form of tantrum intervention. Grayson's tantrums, not mine. That's a whole 'nother blog baby ;) Yesiree the terrible twos started like clockwork on Oct. 9, 2008. Funny that my last blog was around then....

The Happiest Toddler on the Block by Dr. Harvey Karp, M.D.

I would attend this man's church if he started one. Seriously I find this author a bona-fide tried and true genius although I realize it probably took him over 15 years in practice to come to his simple recipes and formulas for taming wild toddler meltdowns. I'm just happy he decided to sell his book at Target since that seems to be the only store my van can find these days. Bad habits die hard.

I'd love to sit here and write a book but my brain is barely moving forward and my feet look like flesh colored miniature watermelons (not so mini now that I glance down at them) so I'm afraid I've got to wait until a better opportunity presents itself. However, I want to leave you with a funny story or one that I found simply delightful relating to these new Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde emotional spirals...

So, every night I sing Grayson to sleep or a phase so close to sleep that my shirt has little puddles of his drool on it when I walk out of his room (sorry, what's charming to me is probably disgusting for you!). To get him close to that comfy place of snuggling into his crib I sing the same four songs to him every night. After reading the above mentioned book I came to realize that this is yet another form of a "lovey" for some children. I've learned now that Grayson finds "quicky comfort" from knowing what to expect from these songs he now knows word for word. The songs usually come out in this order:

Sidewalks of New York
Teddybear Picnic
Frosty the Snowman
Jingle Bells

I know, I know, it's still a long haul until Christmas but when I'm tired all lyrics fall out of my head save Christmas carols. Hey, I know many of you have no choice but to agree with this :) Anyway, the other night Grayson was "displeased" with something I said to him and decided to throw himself into the stairwell and writhe in agony and despair over despicable Mommy comment. Instead of being a warm, caring and nurturing recipient of this tantrum I instead decided to blow off some of my own hot air and sing a Leona Lewis song-loudly. Well, this just peeled the shingles right off Grayson's roof because he began to wail louder than anything human. It took me a second to realize he was saying something through all that white noise. I stopped singing long enough to recognize his garbled message. "ShideWall! Shidewall" "Shidewall of New Yow-ok" he was screaming as loud as those little lungs would allow. Ah! There you have it. Grayson wanted me to sing one of his favorites. This poor little boy, in the midst of his laborious meltdown found it in his mind to make a request. I guess he figured if he had to listen to Mommy belt something out, he'd be happier to know the words himself. I almost cried when he then shouted, "Frosteee!" with a little smile on his impish face as if he knew damn well that would wipe out any kind of heat either of us were feeling at the same time. Who could still be mad after singing about a jolly happy soul? He's smarter than his Mommy already and he can't even read yet (or so I think!)

G'night and much love,
XOXOX
me

Finally!!

Opposites attract which is why Andy and I found each other. I'm an independent, he's a republican. I'm an oversized playground, he's a quiet formal dining room. I'm an animal freak, he's an avid hunter. You get the idea. Well, finding out the sex of our baby was no different. We had differing opinions on wanting to find out. I did and he didn't. It's been a crazy time since then, trying to keep this secret from him. You can imagine living with someone- sharing a couch, a pint of Ben & Jerry's, a conversation and trying to pick names, nursery colors, or even watching the baby move in my belly and NOT mentioning "he" or "she." There were plenty of times when it almost slipped and I thought I let the cat out of the bag but evidently he was still in the dark up until last night.

Last night Andy found out through an innocent comment of a very dear friend (who shall remain nameless to protect her from scrutiny). It was the biggest relief of my lifetime and I couldn't have been more tickled that he found out in an accidental way and now we can talk about it.

He's still in shock, I can tell, and really believed (as I did before the last ultrasound) that we could only make boy babies. I tell him there's room for mistake and we should still have boy names as back up but really I'm sure the Dr.s aren't off the mark on this one. This little baby is such a girl already in utero it's ridiculous. I eat ice cream, she kicks like crazy. I turn the music up, she dances a jig in my belly. I take a trip to the store and she urges me to buy pinks and purples. Okay, so maybe the last one is a stretch but the rest is true and now I get to share my girl hopes, joys, and fears with my husband who is now part of the "I KNOW!" club whether he likes it or not. My guess is that he likes it ;)