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life= too-fast treadmill

I seriously can't remember the last time I posted to here. I really just haven't had much I wanted to say. Obviously, that has changed.

Darius decided he was going to climb the stairs, and he did. This was after about a week of us coaxing him to do it and him refusing. Now he goes up them like it's nothing. Not back down, though. Since we have not yet secured baby gates, this basically means that he can no longer be contained in the living room. He can also chase the cat upstairs, which he thinks is awesome but the cat rather dislikes.

I got a job, which is ostensibly part-time but sure doesn't feel like. I'm a teaching assistant for a special ed preschool. I know, random, right? I figured that since I want to be in a facet of education anyway, it couldn't hurt. I leave every day absolutely exhuasted, both physically and mentally. It's been nearly 2 weeks and I like to think I'm adjusting well, but it's very apparent that I'm 'the new kid'.

Ben is working and apparently enjoying it. He works 2-10, which for him is just perfect since he's usually up until 1 or later anyway. However, I only ever see him in the mornings because I work 9:30-3:30, Monday through Thursday. Bleck. And this week he had to swap Thursday for Saturday, so I'll get even less time with him. Uncool. He's been watching Darius in the mornings, and then he goes to Grandma's and is under the care of his aunt Rachel. He and Baby Glenn are turning into quite the handful.

Bean soup is good. I made some. :)

another year, another pink cake

There isn't much to say, really. Lots of little things that add up to things staying pretty much the same.

Darius' two top teeth finally cut, and he's been annoying because of it. All day he's been refusing to eat, even though he's obviously hungry. His gums look tender and raw around the newly erupted teeth, so I can understand it, but that doesn't stop me from having 'OMG my kid's gonna starve to death' mommy paranoia. This on top of him having a cold for the past few days, and I'm getting a little weird about his health.

Speaking of health, Darius picked up an ick from somewhere and was kind enough to pass it along to his parents. I had a sore throat for a couple days, but now I'm all better; Ben, however, has been miserable. He's nauseated, achy, the works. Hopefully it'll pass quickly.

Darius knows how to crawl, but thinks it takes too much time and energy, so he continues to perform an enthusiastic seal flop to get himself around. Brit described it as a 'breast stroke'. He slaps his hands on the floor, lifts himself up on his arms, goes up on his toes, then flops to the floor a few inches forward of where he was. He gets around surprisingly fast this way. He loves A/C vents. Especially the dirty ones.

Ben turned 28 this past week. He asked for a cake with strawberry icing. You guys, it TOTALLY looked like a little girl princess cake, especially after I put swirls and 'Happy Birthday Ben' on it in white icing. Ben figured it didn't matter so long as it tasted good, and I agree, but it's still funny.

Things are pretty much the same here in Gabbertland. You know, life. It does that.


Yesterday was Darius' 6 month checkup. Because he had nothing better to do, Ben came along with us. We spent our 5 minutes in the waiting room have a very nice chat with a lady who'd brought in her 2 week old daughter for a checkup, too. The baby was so tiny! Like, I don't think mine was EVER that tiny, even when he was born.

The nurses weighed and measured our little monster, and he was 19lbs 15oz and 28.1 inches. Which means he's freaking tall (94th percentile) and his weight is barely keeping up (87th percentile). Amusingly enough, his head circumference is just around average. But he's growing great.

We spent a good 15 minutes telling the doctor about our family medical histories, particularly me and my family's cavernous hemangioma drama. She seemed surprised by the whole concept of that being a family thing.

Darius was subjected to shots once again, this time 3 of them. He was PISSED. It never ceases to amaze me how deep they have to stick those needles- and I always wish they didn't have to do it at all. Unfortunately there was only 1 oral vaccine, and they had to kinda fight him to get it down.

As per usual, several hours after we got home Darius' injections began hurting him, and he screamed himself hoarse for about an hour. He refused to take Tylenol, and only calmed down after he'd been asleep in my lap for an hour and a half, during which time if I moved him at all he'd start crying in his sleep. Not fun.

We don't get to experience that particular pleasure again for 3 months, which is nice. Maybe by then Darius will have got over having these reactions.


I had a big ol' post written out last night, and the Internet ate it. I was peeved. Basically Darius is halfway to crawling, gets into everything he can reach, and likes to grab/suck on people's faces.

I made mini sausage rolls. They were good.

Right now the job situation is crap squared. Neither Ben or I have one, and finding one is turning into a big source of stress. We is broke. I've put in a bunch of applications, and hopefully (fingers crossed) one will produce at least a callback, if nothing else.

I've been poking around military websites. I grew up the child of a career Coastie, and that's really the only life I've ever known- that of a military brat. (Sort of- USCG has been, at various times, in the Defense Department, Transportation [where it fought for funding with Amtrak], and Homeland Security, where it remains. Yeesh.) In my current financial panic, wanting to go enlist is kind of like running and hiding in your mother's skirts. It's completely unfeasible, because I am nursing a 6 month old boy, and anyway he's too young for me to run away to boot camp for 3 months. Plus Ben is colorblind, has torn rotator cuffs, and suffers from cold-induced asthma; him playing soldier is not gonna happen.

I just want a little security in my life!



What with the whole horror of moving, Darius has been basically sleeping in our bed. (Ok, not basically- he is.) He's been spoiled absolutely rotten in this respect for the past week and a half, and it's driving me crazy. When he's in there I feel obligated to sleep on my side, and as you all probably know that position HURTS. So I typically wake up very sore and cranky in the mornings.

The past couple nights I've been trying to get Darius back into sleeping on his own. This has been complicated by a whole host of problems- he won't go to sleep at a reasonable hour, it gets really cold in our room and he has no pajamas, I have to nurse him at o dark thirty with nowhere but the bed to do so and we'll both fall asleep anyway to why bother even trying, and so on. Plus he seems to have an aversion to the pack n play- he's fine with it as a playpen during daylight hours, but has a hard time sleeping in it.

All this means I'm a whole new kind of tired. Yay me.

FOOD! (grrrwwaaawwwrrr)

Darius loves paper. Grab it, shake it, eat it, tear it... it's all splendiferously wonderful. He literally spent 45 minutes earlier savaging a poor unsuspecting catalog (with supervision, of course). He only quit because the paper was too damp to make a satisfactory tearing noise, and he was hungry. Everyone knows that hunger in this kid is like the coming of the Apocalypse- don't think just deal with it NOW. Worse yet, there's no knowing when it will strike. And he bites.

I have a desire for crepes. Unfortunately, I do not know what to put in them. Perhaps jam, but I'm a little overwrought on sweet things- half my diet since Wednesday has been cookie dough consumed by the spoonful. Why bother making a sandwich when you can snarf a spoonful of potential salmonella?!

In any event, food must be eaten. I'm getting fuzzy-headed. Stupid blood sugar.

up in the air

After much tribulation, we're out of Orem, and we're never moving back. (MUAHAHAHA!) We are now sort of moved in to Brandon's, in that all our furniture has a home, but I can't find half my things, most of Darius' clothes have mysteriously vanished, there are no potatoes in the house, and our bedroom/living area looks like the aftermath of a nuclear disaster. Smells like one too, since Darius' changing table is in there.

I suppose I'll feel less frazzled after we have the kitchen figured out, which is a little irritating right now because Heather and Brandon's things are scattered from here to kingdom come, with lots of empty spaces in between, and there's a small pile of our spices accumulating behind the microwave because I don't know where else to put them. I made cookies last night, and I had to climb over and around half-packed Rubbermaid containers in the garage just to find an appropriate mixing bowl. I also really don't like the stove, because it's electric and the burners are all wonky. I want my gas stove back. :( I'm not impressed with the oven's baking capabilities, either. Electric ranges suck!

Just to add to the chaos, our room is half-painted. Yesterday I did some painting, and felt like all I did was make a mess. Plus I had to climb over and around furniture to get at the walls in the first place- I do not advice trying to climb behind a dresser with a loaded paint roller.

Darius' sleep schedule has shifted by about 4 hours in an unpleasant direction. He's been staying up until 12, 1 o'clock, and sleeping until 10, which granted is the hours Ben and I have been keeping lately, but mostly because of Darius himself. I suspect I may have to set an alarm and wake up earlier tomorrow myself to get Darius back into his regularly scheduled program, or I'm going to lose my mind. I didn't realize how much I depended on him going to sleep at 9:30 so I could decompress for 2, 3 hours without worrying about when the baby was going to get up.

Fun stuff.


We're moving this week, which means I really ought to be packing instead of playing around on the Internet. But of course I'm not, because everyone knows that packing sucks.

Darius is starting to get into 12 month-sized clothes. He's 5 months old. Yeesh! This kid is HUGE.

Darius spent most of yesterday refusing to have anything to do with milk in any form. Cups, bottles, sippy-cups, nursing... he wasn't having any of it. He insisted on having solids. Now, of course, he's perfectly fine with nursing, after driving Ben and I 'round the bend. I suspect he may have done it on purpose. I was all paranoid that he was going to get dehydrated, and it just wasn't fun.

We started packing last night, and it was exhausting. I've been in a fog all day. I seriously can't wait until all this is done.


Nursing a teething child is NOT for the faint of heart. Nor is it, apparently, for those with overprotective husbands.

Darius bites when he gets frustrated with nursing. He did so this morning, and I'm still sore. In fact nursing in general hurts because his little razor-sharp baby fangs are constantly rubbing against my skin. Pumping and giving him a bottle is a huge pain in the butt, though, and it's ever so much more convenient just to nurse... but it hurts. Ben's handed down an executive order, though, so I suppose bottle-feeding it is.

And no, I won't feed him formula, for a variety of reasons, but he also hates it. Smart kid. (He also hates squash and prunes. The smell of squash makes me gag, no joke. My baby is ever so intelligent ^_^ )


Ben and I went on an actual date last night. (GASP!) We went out to a pizza buffet with Matt & Company, which was much less appealing than it was when I was pregnant. Afterwards Ben and I went to see 'Wolverine' at the dollar theatre. It was highly episodic, the plot had some extremely unoriginal chunks, and it was ok I suppose but not as good as it could have been, by any means. I was, however, a fan of the nekkid Hugh Jackman shots (hehe). And Liev Schrieber makes a freaking scary Sabretooth.

We're moving this weekend. Oh joy. And I've packed almost nothing. This could be a problem.


We're moving next week, and we've hardly packed anything. This is partly my fault, since between changing diapers and doing dishes I spent way too much time on the Internet. It's just that I know that the minute I start packing for reals, I'll need something and have to dig through boxes of ten-year-old paperback books to find it.

Darius can't crawl yet, but he has mastered rolling over and when on his tummy can scoot a few inches backwards. He can't steer, so if there's a couch or something he gets stuck and starts fussing. He'll be really crawling by 6 months, I swear- he'll be 5 months next week, actually.

Holy poo monkeys. Five months. When did that happen?

Last night I dreamed that I was having to kill sharks that were actually live Swedish Fish candies, while acting in A Midsummer Night's Dream, while trying to find/rescue Darius and a second baby that for some ineffable reason was named Janice. Then we were packing for a trip with extended family while a packet of paperwork kept whispering creepily at us, and I had to find a car seat for 'Janice'. It all made narrative sense while I was asleep, of course, and was some big weird epic... and now it's just really freaking weird. The last time I dreamed this vividly, it involved my front teeth breaking and falling out. I'm so strange.

Darius needs attention...



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May 2010


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