Jack

Car Trouble in the Time of Covid

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Jack had a very exciting morning yesterday. He got to see a tow truck in action, up close and personal.  I suppose it was exciting for us, too, but tinged with a wide streak of Really? This is happening now?!?

John loaded the car up with some yard waste to take to the transfer station, but he didn’t get far.  The car sputtered to a stop right outside our front-yard neighbor’s house, and he pushed it into the parking area for the apartments right there on the corner.  It had been running rough for the last few days (or the last couple of times I drove it, anyway), but we figured that was a spark plug issue and we were planning that kind of maintenance.

We called our local repair place, got a tow truck dispatched from USAA (using the repair place’s towing service, turns out), and found out this morning that the engine seized up.

I am SO not in the mood for this.  Major engine repair, engine replacement, or new (used) car.  No, thanks!  Not now!  But this is what we will figure out over the next few days.

The tow truck part was pretty cool, though.  It was a flat-bed truck, and we (with Jack) watched the guy winch the car up onto the flat-bed and drive away. I got it on video for Jack’s endless perusal.

Can’t brain

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Today was not a good day for braining.  Jack woke up at 2:45am and got some snatches of sleep before he gave up on trying around 4am, so the three of us have pretty much been up since 2:45 this morning. Well, Jack’s asleep now, but I’m coasting on fumes and won’t be conscious much longer.  Also, his nap was WAY too short and then, tired and upset as he was after only sleeping for 40 minutes, he couldn’t settle down enough to sleep again.

On the plus side, I’m the one who got him to sleep for his nap today, so yay me!  I’m pretty sure it wasn’t my nap technique that had him waking up 40 minutes later.

BUT short nap yesterday then bad night last night then short nap today possibly means bad night again tonight soooooo I’m going to bed right now.

Terribly sorry about only complaining about my lack of sleep tonight.  Let’s try again tomorrow.

If only they weren’t weeds

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Yesterday was a beautiful warm day, so I thought I’d do something helpful AND be outside.  Yesterday was the day I would pull up dandelions.  And then I went outside and really looked.  Guys, we have SO many dandelions.  Acres of dandelions.  Endless seas of dandelions.  Dandelions as far as the eye can see.

I started in the far corner of the yard, with Jack nearby, our portable speaker in his hands playing Sesame Street songs.  He was as not interested in pulling up dandelions or playing in the dirt as you can possibly be and still be breathing, so my dandelion-pulling was interrupted by chasing after him – he headed for the street by way of the neighbor’s yard, he headed for the playset by way of the woods where poison ivy is probably making a comeback, and he headed for John who was in the driveway feeding branches to the chipper.  I felt like a sheepdog.

I went back to it while Jack was napping, shifting my focus to the front of the house where at least someone (me) would see the improvement, and I was able to make a dent before I gave up for the day.  There’s a very clear swath of dandelion-free grass.

Tomorrow will be when I realize how much I missed.

Picking out clothes

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I didn’t know it started this early, but Jack has OPINIONS about his clothes.  For one thing, if he sees one of his doot d’doo shirts*, then he wants to wear it.  Nothing else will do d’doo.  (I’m sorry.)  He will not be persuaded otherwise.

*For the uninitiated, doot d’doo = superhero.

John and I have both taken to hiding those shirts so Jack won’t see them when we open the drawer – it’s our only hope of getting him to wear anything else.  The drawer with his shirts is the top left drawer of his dresser, right under his changing pad.  He can (and does) reach into it while sitting on top of the changing pad.  This morning, I got him into a soft, warm, long-sleeved gray shirt, but he reached into the drawer, said “oowee”, and grabbed a red shirt.  I held it up, and (my mistake), said “This is just a plain red shirt.  It’s not your oowee shirt.” I put it back.  So Jack reached in again and pulled out the other red shirt, which most definitely WAS his oowee shirt (fire engine).  I tried “You’re already wearing a shirt.  We can wear this one tomorrow.”  He pulled at the sleeves of the gray shirt, the one he had on, and said, “No.  Oowee.”

How can I argue with that?  The kid knows what he wants to wear.  It’s a good thing the t-shirts I just ordered are all covered in either fire trucks or superheroes.

Nap update

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After four days in a row of me handling the naps, lots of crying, ZERO napping, we decided to have John try, and he would try the more traditional Ferber method – maybe if it’s not Mama doing the leaving, it’ll be easier on Jack.

And so?  We got four days in a row of Jack quietly sitting with John while he reads a couple of books, quietly going into the crib (he ASKED to go in on the second day), lying down when John asks him to, and falling asleep within two minutes on top of John’s hand while John quietly talks to him.  JUST LIKE AT NIGHT. (The 5th day was not so smooth.)

(Let’s review: this is EXACTLY what I tried to do for the first two days, and what I was doing for months with little success not that long ago.  Either we wore him down and he’s too exhausted to protest, or Dada is magic and Mama should stay out of it.)

The plan is that if he doesn’t fall asleep quickly like that, John will still leave and start the cry-it-out clock, but so far that hasn’t been necessary.  Does this count as being inconsistent, changing the script on him again?  I have no idea, but I do know we all prefer it when Jack doesn’t think we’ve abandoned him.  Fingers crossed this works consistently for at least a week, and then we’ll sub me in once Jack has this down, again JUST LIKE WE DID AT NIGHT.

Day 1: Jack only slept for about 25 minutes, but it was his first nap in more than a week (score!) and we think he pooped himself awake, so it wasn’t really a failure on anybody’s part (except Jack’s ability to poop when it’s convenient for the rest of us).

Day 2: Jack made it past 25 minutes by a substantial amount – he slept for just over an hour.  Again, we think he pooped himself awake.  Jack, you need to poop before naptime!

Day 3: Jack slept for an hour and 15 minutes, again going to sleep on John’s hand within a couple of minutes of lying down in the crib just because John asked him to.  Let’s keep this streak going!

Day 4: John had a harder time getting Jack to sleep, but he was ultimately successful, and he slept for an hour and 10 minutes.  I’ll take it.

Day 5: Jack woke up around 3:30 Sunday morning and only slept for 45 minutes between then and 5:45, when we gave up and got up, so we moved his nap a little earlier.  Unfortunately, John had to leave the room and start the cry-it-out clock for the first time Sunday.  He decided to do a reset on the first pop-in instead of just soothe and leave.  Jack fell sleep in John’s arms and he was able to put him down.  Not exactly following the plan, but we ended up with a sleeping baby (for almost an hour and a half), so it’s a win.

His Imperial Highness

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I’ve been getting Jack outside most afternoons. We go out for his exercise in the mornings before naptime, walking at Jack-speed, which is something slower than an amble.  Think glacier.  The afternoons are for my exercise, so he goes in the stroller, and I get to choose the pace.  He’s been great – he gets to play with a toy and eat puffs or cheerios while seeing the sights, and I get to listen to an audiobook or podcast and actually feel like I’m working out.  I only occasionally have to play Bean Bag Rock instead of the Dresden Files.

For his entertainment, I usually give him his Scout phone, his snack container, and his water cup, but he can’t juggle all three (I need to order the snack tray that goes with the stroller).  I usually start him out with snack and the phone – he makes it very clear when he wants water.  We’ll be strolling along, and his right arm will rocket into the air, hand waving, and I’ll hear “dat-dat, dat-dat”.  I barely have to slow down to pass him his water, and when he’s done, the arm shoots into the air again, water in hand, and I take it back.  He resumes snacking or playing.

I am Mama, servant to the tiny emperor.

Half-birthdays – a wonderful excuse to eat cake

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For John’s half-birthday on Monday, I made him us (let’s be real here) a chocolate cake with buttercream frosting and topped it with peanut butter cups.  No baking disasters to report – just yummy yummy chocolate cake.  The frosting was a bit much.  Bonus: the house smelled like chocolate cake for a few hours.

We (I) sang happy half-birthday to John, which he insists wasn’t necessary, but hey – whose fake holiday does he think this is?  We gave Jack three bites of cake, hoping we weren’t dooming ourselves to a toddler on a sugar-high with even that little bit, but he went to bed okay.  Poor exhausted baby – without his nap, he’s awake for 12 hours in a row every day now.

Nonstop excitement around here

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We’ve had an eventful* morning.

To begin with, we received our first Jack-in-the-box.  Super exciting to unpack it.  Thanks to whoever sent us this package!

Then, John fixed the bookshelf in the corner so the two middle shelves will actually stay up, and then he put all the books back on the shelves.  Our Jack-not-in-the-box-anymore wasted no time in reasserting the status quo.

After that, Jack and I went for a walk to see some trucks, both of us bundled up in coat, hat, and mittens against the chilly morning.  My mittens were in my pockets while I carried** him home, and I was so preoccupied with keeping track of HIS mittens that I failed to notice when I lost one of mine.  I figured it out in the driveway, scooped up Jack, and retraced our steps.  Turns out that when Jack pointed out a mud puddle on our walk, he was actually telling me that I had dropped my mitten in it.

Helpful.

*Your definition may differ.

**See alternate definition of “walk”.

How can I do this to him?

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Day 4:

Cry it out is AWFUL.  It’s horrible, it’s heart-breaking, and it’s the worst thing ever.  It might be the only thing that works, but that doesn’t make it fun.  I hate it.

I hate it.

I hate it.

Luckily, Jack doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.  And also, after the first few minutes, he sounds more angry than sad, and then he switches to hopeless and dispairing, but regardless of the tone, it’s an hour of “Mama?  Mama!  Mama?  Mama?  Dada!  Dada!  Dada!  Dada!  Guck-guck!  Mama!”  He stands the whole time, and I have realized that I can’t pop in and reassure him because it winds him up even more – it’s like resetting him to saddest/angriest when I don’t rescue him.

I’m sticking with it because the results will be worth it, but this could take several weeks – I’ve read that it takes longer with naps (than with bedtime) and longer with toddlers (than with babies).

Switching it up

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I know consistency is the key to sleep training, and I had every intention of sticking to the new nap routine as consistently as possible (and as close to our bedtime routine as possible) for as long as it took.  So changing the method two days in seemed kind of…inconsistent.  On the other hand, two days doesn’t equal routine, and really, when it’s that obvious it’s not going to work, it’s silly not to change it.

Bedtime routine: dim the light, turn on the sound machine, change his diaper, put on pjs and sleep sack, sit in the chair together and read a couple-three books, turn off the light, put him into the crib, and sit on the floor while he falls asleep.  He’s nearly always asleep within 10 minutes.  Works for me, works for John.

Trying that at naptime: pull the curtain most of the way, turn on the sound machine, change his diaper, put on pjs and the nap sack (lighter weight), sit in the chair together and read a couple-three books, close the curtain the rest of the way, put him in the crib, and sit on the floor for an hour and a half to two hours while Jack doesn’t sleep.

He cried, he giggled, he yelled, he kissed me, and after two days, it was pretty clear that I was the problem.  I am too dang entertaining.  (Also, maybe it’s not dark enough – we’re working on that.)

Day three (this past Saturday): we began letting him cry it out for naps.  Same routine except that instead of sitting on the floor after he goes in the crib, I just leave.

It sucks.

I’m raising a thief

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Unloading and putting away groceries in the time of coronavirus is an enormous pain in the ass, requiring several steps:

  1. Unload the groceries from the car, still potentially contaminated, leaving them outside of the kitchen behind the closed baby gate so Jack doesn’t try to “help” empty the bags.
  2. Unpack the groceries from the bags, wiping them down one by one, and stage them on various countertops near where they go.
  3. Figure out how to reorganize the cabinets, the pantry, the fridge, and the freezer because we usually don’t buy this much at a time and a) how will all this fit in our tiny freezer, and b) for the pantry stuff, I REALLY need an hour to myself to reorganize because I have, for example, cans of beans spread across at least three different shelves mixed in with all kinds of random stuff.  How am I supposed to shop efficiently if I can’t see what we have?

During step 3, when half of the stuff was put away and the other half was spread out across kitchen counters, I heard footsteps, a sort of crunching THUMP, and excited toddler sounds.

I skidded around the doorway next to the stove and found Jack with the plastic tub of cookies, the top off, three cookies on the floor, and one in his mouth.  He also had the container of strawberries (ignored), both containers stolen from the counter next to the sink.

Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?

Also, HE’S TOO TALL! The counters are no longer safe.

Toddlers bring change. And sleeplessness.

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I made a face mask out of a bandana and two hair bands to wear at the store Wednesday morning.  Then I didn’t go to the store on Wednesday morning because someone woke up at 3am and was still wide awake at 5am when I tagged in.  He fell asleep a little before 6, but I couldn’t get him back into the crib, so the store plan went out the window, and I held him while he slept until 8:30ish.

On the one hand, yay for holding the sleeping baby!  I don’t get to do it much anymore, and it’s SO NICE.  On the other hand, I didn’t get much sleep after 3am…  On the third hand, we didn’t get a nap Wednesday, either, so BOO for that.

The new nap routine starts today (Thursday), and life is going to SUCK for a while.  The car is no longer reliable, and it was never a good long-term solution anyway.

Putting Jack to sleep is exhausting

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The traffic last night was conspiring to keep Jack from going to sleep.  And we REALLY needed him to go to sleep (and sleep all night – which he did HOORAY HOORAY!).  Over the last several days, we’ve been having some trouble.  Jack didn’t get a nap at all on Saturday, he only got a little more than half an hour on Sunday, and he only got 10 minutes yesterday, when he REALLY needed a good nap because the night before (Sunday into Monday) was ROUGH.  He slept for about 4 hours, woke up a little after midnight, and then didn’t go back to sleep until 4am.  He wasn’t fussy after the first bit – he was just awake.  Wanted to babble at us.  We did our best to convince him that it was time for sleep, it was dark, and all good babies and gucks and woowees sleep when it’s the middle of the night, but he didn’t get the picture for several hours.

We’d gotten complacent – before Sunday night, he had slept for 11 to 13 hours straight every night except one in the month of April, and we were beginning to feel human again.

One bad night isn’t a pattern, but with several days of short or nonexistent naps followed by a night like that one, it’s hard to feel positive.

Anyway, the traffic.  John was putting Jack to bed, and I was doing the dishes.  At three separate times within 40 minutes, ambulances and fire engines went screaming down the road, sirens blaring, and THEN some giant truck laid on his horn as he went through the intersection near our house.

I nearly went outside to yell (at what, I don’t know – the universe?) “THE BABY IS TRYING TO SLEEP, PEOPLE!”

Now, as I speak type, he is napping. I don’t know how long we’ll get, but something is better than nothing and we’re at 20 minutes so far, so today is already a win over the last several days. Hold your breath and don’t slam any doors, my dudes, because the baby is sleeping.

Too soon

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Jack has been calling me Mom the last few days.  I still get plenty of Mama, but these Moms show up out of nowhere, usually repeated, and it’s…disconcerting.  He’s too young to call me Mom!  What happened to the intermediate Mommy?  I wasn’t planning on being Mom until he’s 10.  Maybe 8.

Hopefully it’ll go away.  He’s not calling John Dad.

I suppose it’s better than Zannah.

Ways in which Jack is adorable

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Here is a smattering of ways in which Jack is adorable:

  • He “counts”, using the tone I use when I count for him.  He counts when he points at things, stacks things, lines things up, but he only ever says one syllable over and over: “doo”.  I like to think he’s speaking French.  “Deux, deux, deux…”
  • When I point out flowers on our walks, he leans toward them and “mah” gives them a kiss.
  • He thinks it’s HILARIOUS when I sneeze.  Laughs like a loon and then makes his again sign (like a one-handed clap) and says “dat, dat”.  I’ve tried explaining to him that I can’t sneeze on command.  Fake sneezes aren’t quite as good.
  • Since we started reading The Little Engine That Could and The Little Red Caboose, he looks for trains everywhere we go.  Any vehicle attached to a trailer is a choo-choo.  Any trailer without an attached vehicle is a choo-choo, unless it’s a box trailer, and then it’s a guck.
  • We have a Buddha statue in our yard, left by the previous owner, and when we walk by it, Jack says “baa”.  At it.  To it?
  • When he sees a car/truck/van with a ladder on it, he makes climbing-a-ladder motions with his hands.

Defiance

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Recently, Jack has begun doing things he knows he’s not supposed to do.  We can tell he knows because he a) waits for us to look, and b) makes the same face every time, a face that clearly says “Oh ho ho, look at what I’m doing” and dares us to do something about it.  I would love to catch that face on camera, but when I see it, I have to be ready to catch him.

The face, which is similar to “the face” but with so much more devilishness, appears when he’s about to open a cabinet he shouldn’t be in, or when he’s standing on his chair, or when he’s snatching his hand out of mine when we’re walking along the street.  That one is usually followed by demon possession and a growled “NO” when I try to get his hand back, then angry crying while seated on the sidewalk until I can pick him up and distract him.

The sidewalk incidents aside, why does it have to be so funny when he dares us to tell him no?  I knew this day was coming, when I was going to have to find a way not to laugh when I need him to take me seriously, and I knew I wasn’t going to be prepared for it.  Over the weekend, he kept standing up in his blue chair, and John and I had to take turns – one turned away to laugh silently while the other said, as sternly as possible, “Jack, sit down.  We sit in chairs.”  He’d sit down, get that look again, and stand right back up, and we’d switch.

I’d like to say we’ll get better at it, but I’m kind of afraid we’ll just lose our sense of humor about it.  Is it possible to think it’s funny and still keep a straight face and stern voice?

Scrapes

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Jack fell down yesterday. Okay, he falls down every day, but he fell down in the driveway.  Okay, he falls down in the driveway regularly, too, but this one was different.

We were both outside with him, and he started to run/toddle along the driveway.  He tripped and fell (daily occurrence).  He caught himself on his hands and knees (normal), but then he tipped forward.  It happened so slowly that it didn’t seem like it could have hurt him, but he started crying and I hurried my already-in-progress rush to him.  Picked him up, brushed him off – I didn’t see anything immediately wrong.  He had some dirt and a few pieces of gravel on his face, so I took him inside to clean him up.

He calmed down after a minute and went right back to playing.  It was a few minutes before we could really see the scrapes.  His forehead, the side of his nose, some of his right cheek, and his chin all show evidence of the faceplant onto the driveway.  I’m positive it hurts us more than it hurts him.

John said we shouldn’t let him run on the driveway anymore.  Uh huh.  YOU try and stop him.  I’ll just hover a little closer so I can catch his head next time.  Like a helicopter…oops.