Thanksgiving weekend, Bayou Teche, LA Posted by Picasa

Things About Kyle’s Babyhood That I Don’t Want to Forget, vol. 3

Since Kyle is still a baby for another four weeks, I think I can still use this post title. This is really random, and you might not understand the following things or be entertained by them, but I want to record them for posterity. That’s redundant, I know. Whatever.

-When Kyle gets tired, he feels his eyelashes with his thumbs. He has been doing that for a couple of months. It’s like he can’t figure out what those furry things on his eyelids are, so he has to keep feeling them. But he only does this right before nap or bedtime.

-He also shakes his head, like he’s saying “no,” as a form of communication or when he’s really excited. He loves it when you do it back.

-For the past week or so, also when he is tired, Kyle has been snuggling into me when I hold him on my lap. He puts his arms straight down and burrows into my chest, arms between his body and mine, smiling like he’s in the best place in the whole world.

-The Tall Guy/Short Guy game. We’ve been playing this one for a long time and it’s starting to bore him now that he can pull up on furniture and cruise just fine by himself thank you very much. The game is this: Kyle sits on my lap facing me and I hold his hands. He pulls up with my hands and stands in my lap. That’s when I say “Tall guy!” over and over again in a high voice. Then he sits down with a plop and a waiting smile, so I say “Short guy” in a low voice. Repeat.

-He really, really does not like avocado.


Used to be that I would get a nice handful of comments, but now that I’m posting every day I feel like there’s so much less. Are you guys still reading this? Just curious.

It’s "How Gross Is Your Husband’s Car?" Friday!

Again, for people who do not have husbands, please feel free to share with me how gross your partner/girlfriend/boyfriend’s car is.

This morning I had to take Frida (our crazy dog) to the vet for her annual checkup and teeth cleaning. Since we’re talking about gross things, let’s talk about Frida’s breath. Not only does she never brush her teeth, but she also eats things like grass, wood, and poop. Her breath, while occasionally smelling like poop, always smells like the breeze that would waft out of the depths of a whale’s digestive system if the whale ate poop. Oh, holy God, is that a disgusting smell. One reason, among many, that I do not like it when Frida licks things like my hand, the floor, or the baby. So, so gross.

To get the dog and the baby and myself all over to the vet’s office, I needed to take Stewart’s Honda Element, so this morning we switched cars. We have the travel carseat in there so at least we didn’t have to wrestle with that whole thing. But Stewart often uses his vehicles as storage facilities, so of course even though he had to leave early for work this morning (to compensate for his sick day yesterday) he had to clean out the back of the truck. It was clean on Sunday when we all went hiking, so I wondered what could possibly be back there already. He comes in the house with BOXES of stuff and two long poles. I shook my head and ordered him to transfer the stroller and the bag of poo (Frida’s stool sample, that looked very much like a Poo Bomb) into the truck. Then he left for work.

A little while later, after feeding Kyle breakfast, deterring the dog’s attempts to eat something, anything, for God’s sake woman, can’t you see I haven’t had breakfast?!, and getting ready for the gym, I loaded up the Element, got in, and buckled my seat belt. And then I looked around me.

In the FOUR MONTHS since we purchased this vehicle, Stewart has managed to Trash It. There is mud and dog hair (okay, not his fault) caked on every surface. There are wrappers and old keys (???) and receipts and business cards and crap crap crap! I just don’t understand how he can drive in this filth. I had predicted nothing less, but still I am surprised. And he got mad at me when I drove my new Mom car into a Camry. Huh. At least the inside was freshly vacuumed.

I dropped Frida off at the vet in a flurry of Psycho Dog and Confused Baby alongside Scruffy Older Woman with a Cat in a Box. The amused vet techs just smiled and nodded and told me to come back after 4pm to pick her up. (Frida, not the Scruffy Older Woman, or the Cat in a Box.) They didn’t even coo and screech about how cute Kyle is, which I expect from every person I see when I go out in public. I guess they’re Animal People, not Baby People. It just surprises me every time it doesn’t happen.

It was a day of surprises for me, I guess, because then Kyle and I headed for the gym, where I need to go quite often these days to ride the exercise bikes because I am riding my mountain bike in the L.A. Marathon next Sunday. Why not ride my actual bike? Well, it’s raining, and I need someone to watch Kyle, so to the gym we go. I’ve gone with him twice since we signed up and both times he’s done okay with the day care lady.

Well, not this time. First off, I made the big mistake of going before his morning nap, just because we were already out and it was convenient. Why have I not learned that Kyle makes anything that used to be convenient a great, screaming IN-convenience? I’ve come to love drive-through anythings, including the drive-through Starbucks I spotted yesterday that is located in a shopping plaza that I go to several times a week that I never noticed before because why would I care that there is such a thing as a drive-through Starbucks?! I am totally going there later.

The second mistake I made was not putting a pacifier into his diaper bag. The past two times at the gym I have dropped Kyle off with no pacifier in his mouth and picked him up with one in it. He doesn’t need one as much anymore but I totally get it – he’s unsure of himself in the strange environment without Mommy and the pacifier gives him comfort and strength to go on. That’s how I feel about chocolate.

This morning we were earlier than in the past and there were at least 8 kids including several babies for TWO daycare workers to watch. All of these conditions made for one volatile Kyle. (Hey, that’s a great nickname if he ever turns into a psycho little kid.) I rode the bike for 20 minutes and then checked on him. He was playing on the floor with a toy. Good. Fine. I stretched, and while I was stretching I heard a page “So and So, please come to the Kid’s Club.” It was not for me. Good. Fine. I went to the free weight area and did one set of squats. Then I went to the window and looked in on Kyle. The daycare lady was holding him, surrounded by a hundred small children happily playing on the floor. Kyle’s face was bright red, and he was pouting in that just-about-to-cry way, looking so sad that I just ran in there and took him in my arms as he cried and he was All Better.

Thus ended my workout. We drove back in Daddy’s filthy car and Kyle is now sleeping in his very own bed, no pacifier needed.