I was going through old posts today, and started looking at belly pictures. Can I just say how bizarre it is? Then I looked at the *last* one, and almost fell out of the chair.
Good god. Even I am wondering if there were twins in there!
No wonder that I thought the rest of me looked pretty good.
Apparently teething means waking up (at least) every single hour in our house. But I'm not referencing the newborn stage in the title of this post - I'm talking about when I was young.
When Debbie and I were little - probably before we started school, but old enough to have clear memories - we used to crawl into bed with my mom in the middle of the night [dad worked nights then]. The first one in slept next to mom, and the second one in slept across the foot of the bed (sometimes we used mom's bum as a pillow!).
Last night, I got up to grab a diaper for Joseph, but he'd fallen back asleep before I got back so I wasn't going to wake him. Well, he'd managed to take up my ENTIRE side of the bed. Grr. I knew if I moved him he'd wake up to nurse and get his diaper changed, and given my chomped-upon nipples I'm avoiding extraneous nursing. So what's a girl to do? I briefly considered going to sleep on the couch, but that seemed mean to ditch T.J. in the middle of the night. Instead, I assumed the foot position.
I'm actually much too large now to sleep across the bottom of the bed, so I was sort of L-shaped since Joseph only took up the top half of my spot. It was not very comfortable, and I had to change directions once, but it was another hour that my baby slept instead of being awake fussing.
The things moms do for their kids!
And really, can I demand that we upgrade to a king from our lowly full-size bed? I can't wait till we do that. Joseph couldn't take up half of a king-sized bed for at least another two months! Ha!
My side of the family will claim his ears.
I'm the carrot top in the front, but as you can see, we've all been afflicted...er, blessed with the ears.
P.S. I think Joseph makes that same expression that I have in the pictures sometimes!
I just put some more Sarna on, and the scent seemed SO familiar. My family should get a kick out of this - Camphor is the same ingredient that is in Sting-Eze.
Ah, the days of Itasca State park, millions of mosquitos, making X's on mosquito bites to get them to stop, and using Sting-Eze when X's didn't work.
And for flashback:
Dad at Itasca (that's a big fish!)
Deb and I at Bear Head (cool tee pee):
That's right. We have not made any mistakes yet, so we have a perfect record with DomerBaby. For 2 more months. Hahaha. Which is why I can tell you the story of the horrible little children at the Christmas Eve mass we attended with a clear conscious!
First of all, we attended the children's mass of our own volition. I remember as a child going to mass all dressed up, sitting (mostly) quietly - though probably fidgeting a lot and being a nuisance to my parents - when I was small. When we were older, we participated in the choir, which I *do* remember was a very solemn and quiet job, indeed. The music instructor made it very clear that we were not to talk, whisper, move, or even breathe too loudly because our noises carried throughout the church. I remember, as children, going up to the front to see the baby Jesus and learn about how it's not *really* about Santa, to which we all agreed of course - it's only polite not to burst the priest's bubble, after all.
Well, apparently things work differently at the church we attended this Christmas. The children's choir was having a great time, and it showed. They were generally well mannered, though a bit noisy and had to be shushed at times. I was sad to see so many jeans, tennis shoes, and cargo pants throughout the church instead of choir robes or at least holiday attire. There were of course, the requisite crying children, which didn't bother me much, except the priest explicitly "invited" people to bring their crying children to the lobby and you could tell he was irritated when his request was ignored.
But the worst - the worst! - was when the priest called up all the children to hear about baby Jesus. Kids were going wild - jumping all over (including on the priest), not listening to the priest when he asked them to sit quietly, and even sassing off to him! The poor man could obviously not control them. He was trying to get them to participate by asking questions, like "what's more important, Jesus, or Santa. I don't know if these kids are just idiots, or their parents have never taken them to church, but the answer the priest wanted was always pretty obvious to me as a child WHEN I WAS IN CHURCH. Not to them. How embarrassing.
Anyway, T.J. and I were duly appalled by the entire thing, and more than a little terrified that our children will someday act like that in public (probably a 100% probability, but hopefully not in church).
So that's my judgy mcjudgerson post about bad parenting. If you were the person with the terrible little boy at St. Thomas Aquinas Church, shame on you. And I hope he got coal in his stocking!
[note: I am perfectly aware that my children, my current views, and this very post, will embarrass me in a way I cannot imagine in the future. But I'm willing to post entertaining stories for you! Don't you feel special?]
Close up... still sleepy!
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