We’ve been sans cable for three days now. Three whole days of television silence, broken only by the occasional DVD of Aladdin or Chicken Little, and can I just say I would not be sad if I never had to watch either of those movies again, ever? I may leave them down where the baby can get them by “accident” just so the option’s closed. Guh.

I think I miss the cable more than the baby does. He seems mildly put out that I haven’t offered to put on Jack’s Big Music Show lately, but other than that he doesn’t seem to even notice that there’s nothing on the TV screen. Mama, on the other hand? Feels like a crack addict. I haven’t had my Scrubs fix in days, and yes, I am aware that Zach Braff does the voice of Chicken Little, and no, that does not make it better. (Though I did keep expecting Chicken Little to yell “Banana hammock!” at several points during the movie.)

The lack of television coupled with the sleep training thing is all blessing and curse, and I will tell you why. First, it is good, because much of the reason the baby was staying up so late was because it was so easy for mama to hang out with him while she watched Adult Swim and crocheted. Now there is nothing to distract the baby from sleeping or the mama from letting him. Then, it is bad, because there is nothing to distract the mama from the myriad worries flitting in and out of her head like a swarm of moths. Related note: I have a moth phobia. Also spiders, but that’s neither here nor there. Again, the not having TV thing is good because I am not parking said kidlet in front of it during the day while I work or do school. Likewise, it is a nightmare because I get NOTHING done, oh my god, the nothing I get done is STAGGERING in its nothingness, especially on days like today when I have a deadline and an article I have to write and a child who is just bored and does not want to play quietly while mama compiles data.

But, yes. It evens out. << I typed that, and then the baby began to wail. He’d been asleep for all of 30 minutes, and I have spent the last hour upstairs with him while he alternately screamed inconsolably and clung to me like a barnacle while refusing to fall back asleep. I sang. I told stories. I rocked. I nursed. But the baby is so freaked out by the idea of sleeping alone that he will literally startle himself awake every time he drifts off, just so I won’t leave. It’s heartbreakingly sweet and desperately frustrating all at the same time.

I know what you’re saying. You’re saying what a horrible mother, and then you’re holding that thought because baby, awake. Again.

Okay. Where was I? Oh yes: What a horrible mother. Why make the poor child sleep alone? Why not just go to bed when he does? And I have no good reason, except that I don’t want to go to bed at 9pm every night, and also? I like being able to finish a thought every once in a while. I like being able to get stuff done. I like not having to divide my attention. Because did I mention the nothing I got done earlier?

The other half of you are probably saying Well why isn’t your husband helping? and the answer to that is that he is, just not tonight. We’ve been tag-teaming the bedtime routine, which is great (if somewhat less of a break for me than originally planned) but tonight I’m solo and he’s out gaming. The theory, I guess, is that Happy Fun Baby will not notice the lack of Dada as long as the schedule’s the same. Which is a lovely theory.

I have other theories. Many of them involve Tahiti, and the running away thereto. I hear it’s nice this time of year. Also? I bet they have cable.

technorati tags:sleep training, cosleeping, sleep, cable, television, Tahiti

Happy Valentine’s Day, blogosphere! In case you didn’t know, Valentine’s Day isn’t just a genetically engineered plot device meant to boost flower sales during the slow months of winter. Valentine roots can be traced back as far as the Roman Lupercalia festival, in which young men dressed in loincloths spanked women with strips of goat hide. Of course, then the Christians came along and did away with all the spanking, and that’s how St. Valentine got his name on all the cards. Or something.

Anyway, we’re celebrating by not going out and not having a romantic dinner. We may also not give each other cards or flowers or anything that sparkles. Chez Cranky: the place to go to get your Valentine on.

It’s been an eventful few days since I last updated, and instead of trying to make it all flow together in Zen-like homogeneity, I will once again resort to list-making. You will read the list and rejoice, and all will be right with the world.

And if you don’t like it, I will spank you with a strip of goat hide. You know, for Valentine’s Day.

• Last Thursday was my blogiversery (blog-a-versary?). Want to know how I know? Because my domain name expired! If you noticed that the site was down for much of the weekend (and I know you did), that’s why. Happy Blogiversary to me.
• Saturday night Not So and I left Happy Fun Baby with an actual babysitter and went on an actual date. Woo hoo! We saw Glen Phillips at the Aladdin. Glen (I am so totally on first-name basis with him) was exquisite as always, though not barefoot. This could be because it is the middle of winter. His opening act was a woman named Vienna Teng, who I now love and adore. Brilliant pianist and singer. Glen made noises about touring with her and…someone else, whose name I don’t remember but yay, great…during the summer, and I am so, so there. Assuming we can get a sitter.
• Taxes: done. Waiting for refund, which promises to be rather substantial. Will use to buy practical things like a new laptop for Not So and an Apple TV (see next item for the why).
• Cable: gone! We got sick of plying Comcast with ridiculous amounts of money for ridiculously sub-par service and had them cancel our cable television yesterday. Unfortunately we’ve got to keep them for internet, since they’re the only option for high-speed in our neighborhood (and what is up with that? We’re in North Portland, not the North Pole) but at least we won’t be paying them as much. Also, Happy Fun Baby watches too much TV, and I know I won’t just leave the damn thing off if I have the option. Hooray, good parenting! But so we will be watching a lot of Netflix and downloading a lot of stuff from iTunes. Hence the Apple TV. You see. Because at least that way there won’t be commercials.
• Speaking of Happy Fun Baby, he has discovered that he can scoot various furniture items around the room to facilitate dangerous climbing experiments. Yesterday I happened to look up to see that he had pushed the little ottoman up to the baby gate and had climbed up and slung one leg over the gate in preparation for – what? What, exactly? You’ve got to think these things through, kid. Happily I grabbed him before he went tumbling over and splatted on the hardwood.
• I’m cutting way, way down on sweets in an effort to slow my slide into Screeching Harpy-dom (and hopefully lull my anxiety disorder into remission). This means I’m cooking a lot more, since I can pretty easily make lower-sugar versions of delicious things and trick myself into feeling like I’m not dieting. It’s been one day. So far I have not noticed much of a difference. I know you are surprised.

Now I must go do those productive things that good housewives do while their husbands are at work. None of those things involve goat hide, but wouldn’t the world be a more entertaining place if they did? (By the way: I’m totally just going to go read my rss feeds. But you can pretend I’m scrubbing the baseboards if it would make you feel better.)

technorati tags:comcast, glen phillips, vienna teng, sugar, Valentines Day, Lupercalia

You know what I’m supposed to do during the day? I’m supposed to be an entrepreneur. I’m supposed to track down leads and follow them. I’m supposed to find ways to increase visibility for our new business while reinforcing the integrity of our vision. I’m supposed to be staying on top of design and technology trends and writing weekly articles on our blog.

You know what else I’m supposed to be doing during the day? Going to school. I’m in my third year at AiO and I have a 3.9 GPA, which I’m determined to hang on to until graduation, which is sometime next year. Since it’s an online school, I can set my own hours, provided I log in and post substantively at least 4 days a week. The number of assignments varies from class to class, but it’s typically between 3 and 5 per week. These are all accelerated, 5.5 week classes, so a lot of ground is covered.

Another thing I’m supposed to be doing during the day? Caring for and entertaning my toddler. I want to say this involves a lot of structured play, reading, and outdoor adventures. I want to say that, but it would be a lie. We do a fair amount of unstructured, interactive play and a lot of cuddling, but there’s also a fair amount of “educational” TV and me on my computer while the baby entertains himself. We don’t even have a structured lunchtime – I feed him when he seems hungry, and only bother with the high chair about half the time. If I were a nanny, I’d totally sit myself down and give me a serious talking-to about whether or not I’m in the right line of work.

Also on my list of must-do things every day? Housekeeper. I’ve got to do laundry, dishes, and daily maintenance for a household of three, plus stuff like mopping, dusting, trash taking-out, Diaper Champ changing, vacuuming and litterbox maintenance. Back in the day, I didn’t care so much if, say, the floor was dirty or the dishes were piled up. Now I need the floors to be clean because there’s a little person crawling around on them all day, and I can’t procrastinate on the dishes because there isn’t a later I can leave things for.

Then I have days like today, when I walk into the kitchen, see all the mess everywhere, and think “I QUIT.”  Even thinking that gives me a moment of relief. I don’t have to reprioritize, I don’t have to spend the next few hours running from the baby to the kitchen and back…I just quit. No more housework for me!

Except it doesn’t work that way, does it? It’s not like I can transfer to a cleaner house.

If I could, though? I’d be all OVER that.

technorati tags:housework, parenting, business, juggling, multitasking, I quit

You may have noticed a conspicuous lack of postyness yesterday. I was all set to thrill the internet with my tales of wonder and delight (some of which might have involved my ears, but I make no promises), but before I had a chance, my angelic child spilled a cup of lukewarm coffee on my keyboard.

I don’t know if you’ve ever spilled a cup of coffee on your keyboard, but if you haven’t – I highly recommend it. So much excitement! So much shouting! So much mess! The baby was not interested in mama’s Dance of Woe, but was extremely angry that after all that work I wouldn’t even let him have the coffee cup. Didn’t I see all the effort he went to in order to get it? Because, clearly, if I were a nice mama, I would let my child drink coffee.

Once the keyboard dried out (during which time I cleaned, rather frantically, and paced, and tried without success to stop entertaining bleak fantasies of a computer-free existence), I discovered that all the keys still worked. All but one: the space bar. Stupid space bar. Who uses the space bar, anyway?

As it turns out, I use the space bar rather a lot. There was some more shouting after that.

(I do not like that I am a parent who shouts. Where is my therapist when I need her? My parents shouted. My parents also hit and broke things and scarred my psyche by saying things like “a monkey could do that better than you,” but is that merely the end-product of the shouting? Is the fact that I get angry and shout indicative of deep psychological issues? I would answer these questions, but like I said: no therapist. Sigh.)

So off to the Apple store I went, to purchase a lovely new keyboard and a lovely new keyboard cover, which theoretically would prevent this from happening in the future. Great theory, yes? Unfortunately flawed, as the keyboard cover makes the space bar stick. This? This is the definintion of irony.

However the Apple store is as wonderful as I remembered it, all sleek and modern and full of things I want so badly my palms itch. And they give you the cutest bags to carry your purchase! They are like wee trendy little backpacks. They are a carrying case, and an accessory. I love the Apple store.

Anyway, I can type again, and this is pleasing to me. And my child is unphased both by the shouting and the repeated admonitions to “please not touch Mommy’s coffee, Monkey, that is NOT for babies” so at least we’re coming up even.

technorati tags:coffee, keyboard, spill, baby, shouting

Oh, crazedparent, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into! I’ve jumped on the 10-Minute Writer’s bandwagon with this exercise in memory. (For da rules, check out this post on crazedparent’s blog.)

I remember watching Sesame Street as a kid and thinking it was just the most magical thing ever. To me, it felt real – the puppets, the characters, all the people. I wanted to live on Sesame Street.

Back when I was little, there was no Elmo, no Prairie Dawn. Snuffy was Big Bird’s imaginary friend, and no one but Big Bird could see him. And, perhaps most importantly, the theme song was not all techno-fied. What is up with the updating of the theme song? It was fine the way it was!

I think that’s the crux of it. I want my childhood memories (the few good ones, anyway) to remain intact and immutable. I want to be able to show my kid exactly how my memories looked, how they felt, what they sounded like. I don’t want to have to explain, uselessly, that all this newfangled “hip” puppeteering was absent from the original Sesame Street, and that cookies aren’t “sometimes” foods, they’re ALL THE COOKIE MONSTER EVER EATS. Because he is the cookie monster. THE COOKIE MONSTER. Follow along, people.

I remember how much I loved the Cookie Monster, and Oscar the Grouch (so cranky!), and Grover, and the Count. They’re all side-notes now, the minor characters who aren’t as compelling to baby eyes as Elmo or…Elmo, and can I just take a moment to say that Elmo’s laugh is like THE CACKLING OF HARPIES? Oh, if I had a fork with some sharpened tines…but that is neither here nor there. The point is, Burt and Ernie are supposed to be The Odd Couple, not the sterile dorm-buddies they are now, and at some point the one-two-three-FOUR-FIVE-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve song is supposed to play, because it’s my favorite, and I always looked forward to it. Still do.

Some of the spots are still there. The weird floating stop-motion guy with the big letter cutouts? I totally rememeber that. The oddly-animated number sequences? So freaking cool. The badly-dressed playground children? I was so one of them.

The thing I remember most, though, is listening to the theme song and trying to figure out which direction all those kids were going. If I could have figured that out, I’d have it made.

technorati tags:ten minute writers, I remember, writing, crazedparent

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When Not So changes Happy Fun Baby’s diaper, he has a whole routine. There is the diaper-changing song. There is the ceremonial Holding of the Clean Diaper by the baby, who stops wriggling in order to devote his full attention to this critical task. There is the countdown to diapering (“One…two…three…butts up!”). There is even the baby-powder shimmy, in which Not So grabs the baby’s ankles, holds them aloft, and gives them a wriggle. It takes Not So about three times as long to change the baby’s diaper as it takes me.

Happy Fun Baby likes Not So’s diaper changes the best.

The baby thinks I’m okay, too. I have the Magic Boobs, and therefore I am required whenever the world becomes too much for him. It’s hard to be a toddler. There are so many things he can’t do, like reach doorknobs and talk, and there are even more things that he isn’t allowed to do, like play with mama’s cell phone, change channels on the TV, and climb from the futon to the top of the end table. But, see, if I would just let him climb up there, he could reach the lampshade! I am a mean, mean mama. He tells me this at length, but since he doesn’t speak English yet, I remain blissfully ignorant.

Although, today? Today he was coloring (a new development in and of itself) and when Not So said “Here is a red crayon,” the baby quite clearly and distinctly said “Red.” He repeated it several times for good measure. Can full sentences be far behind? (Of course, he then proceeded to call all the crayons “red,” so perhaps signing the baby up for podcasts is a bit premature.)

I’ve been woefully tired, probably because me and my Magic Boobs haven’t had a day off in more than a year. We’ve been working nights, too, since there are molars on the horizon and Happy Fun Baby’s sleep has gone to hell. Not that it was far from hell before, but now? Now I think fondly of the nights when I’d “only” get four solid hours of sleep. I think I’m adapting, though. I might not remember what it’s like to be well-rested, but I no longer feel like my brain is encased in cotton. Which is a good thing, really.

technorati tags:diapers, baby, speech, verbal, crayons, sleep

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The cats were being absolute monsters last night. First there was the tag-playing, which goes runrunrunrunTHUMP runrunrunrunrunHISSSSSS runrunrunCRASHrunrunrun. Then there was the yowling at the bedroom door, prompted by the tag-related hallway exile. Then there was the body-slamming of said door, interspersed with more pathetic yowling and some door-scratching, for good measure. I dare you to sleep through that, especially when you’re sandwiched between an extremely cranky (but blessedly sleeping, finally) baby and a snoring spouse.

Last night’s cat drama might have something to do with today’s case of the blues. I feel very ninth-grade today, all glasses and braces and ugly bangs. Why, you ask? Well. I failed to survive the cut on the LiveJournal friends list of someone I know IRL (that’s “in real life” to those of you who have, you know, lives), and even though I know I rarely update my LiveJournal I still felt like the popularity police had revoked my cool license. Which they totally would if they had read that last sentence. (Cool license? Seriously?) Then I found out that I hadn’t been picked for a blogging gig on a new multi-author parenting blog. Which I’m sure lots of people applied for, blah blah blah, but I’m a good writer. Right?

On the other hand (the one that’s still popular – yay!) I am now a proud member of the 9rules Network. Can I explain how happy that makes me? Can I? Because it makes me really freaking happy. Joining me in this round of acceptances are people like IzzyMom and Plain Jane Mom, so obviously I am in extremely good company. Congrats to everyone who made it!

technorati tags:9rules, izzymom, plain jane mom, geek, popularity, cats

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