Thanksgiving and my parenting schedule

Yesterday, as you might have noticed, was Thanksgiving.

In the morning we sat around in our pajamas and watched the Macy’s parade. This was an ideal way to spend some family time.

I don’t usually cook on Thanksgiving now. I am often still recovering from Mocksgiving. I don’t have any family in the area except my brother (who is usually at Mocksgiving), so I neither have an obvious place to be invited nor obvious people to invite should I choose to cook. And it’s one thing to invite two grownups. It’s an entirely different thing to invite two grownups, a three year old and an infant. (The three year old is the complicated part.) So I was extremely grateful that my friend H’s family invited us to their Thanksgiving celebration. We tried to pay them back by knowing all the words and the tune to “We Gather Together” and singing confidently before the repast. His mom is a fantastic cook. No, really fantastic. This year’s theme was healthy. Mostly, I noticed tasty. His nephews (recently 5 and 2.5) were both there, and the boys actually played extremely well together, so I don’t think Grey was much of a bother. Also, his mom had prepared noodles and meatballs for the youngsters, which meant that Grey actually ate and I didn’t have to fight with him over food.

My only real regret was I didn’t get sufficient opportunity to talk to my friend!

---

I had been justifiably worried that Thane slept all day yesterday (except for right at the moment I sat down to have dinner). Come about 8 pm his beautiful blue eyes sprang open. (Imagine a springy sound.) I finally coaxed him to bed at about 10:45.

Somewhere in the night I realized we had hit another milestone: baby’s first cold. Actually, 4 weeks old is an entirely reasonable age at which to contract one’s first cold, and it seems relatively mild. But here’s my schedule for last night:

10:45 – Thane asleep
11 – me asleep
2 am – 2:30 am – Thane dirty diaper and nurses
4 am – 5:15 am – Thane eats and fusses
6:15 am – 6:30 am – A. gets Thane from his room, changes his diaper and brings him in to me. Thane fusses, but fails to nurse and gets put in the bouncy seat next to the bed where he wheezes loudly.
6:45 – 7:15 am – Grey wakes up and comes to snuggle me (read: squirm in proximity to me). A. starts snoring. Thane is still wheezing.
7:45 am – I declare that by gum I need at least two hours straight sleep without anyone snoring at me and direct poor husband to obtain the same or suffer the consequences (he is working from home)
10:45 am — I finally get up and nurse Thane and begin my day

No wonder my days seem short. I spend 12 hours in night time mode, but with only a normal (or slightly less than normal) amount of sleep, and that extremely interrupted. I have to admit that the scenario would be much improved if Grey would sleep in until, like, 8.

Anyway, Thane is doing pretty well, but he’s very wheezy and a bit mucousy. (That’s mostly showing up in the “spitting up” arena.) I think he’s also sleeping more, but less soundly and in smaller chunks because he’s having a bit of trouble nursing and breathing simultaneously. We will survive this.

It’s just hard to remember:
1) That I shouldn’t feel guilty for “sleeping in” when I can.
2) That when you are home with your infant and preschooler, you should not expect to do much more than take care of your infant and preschooler
3) That it is not actually child abuse to let your kid watch that much television.

Conflicting emotions

Two emotions, alike in dignity, are at war within me in this post. Pride and a desire for sympathy are at odds.

Pride: My sweet little Thane-boy is learning to sleep. Last night he was AWAKE at bed time, and spent an hour charming his father and I with his wide-eyed happy self. I finally took him to his room to let his father sleep and composed the “Thane song”. Growing up, I and my siblings had songs my parents had made up for each of us. My husband made up a song for Grey, but claimed Thane was too hard to rhyme. So I decided the Thane song was up to me. I like it. Anyway, at 11:30 he was put in his crib (awake) and I left and lo. There was no more noise until 4. That’s NEARLY sleeping through the night (where sleeping through the night = 5 hours). And then he gave me until about 7. That’s 7 hours of REM sleep.

Desire to be able to whine: I am still, of course, tired. I really need like 8.5 hours uninterrupted sleep, and Grey is NOT sleeping through the night these days. Note to Grey: it is still dark at 5:45 am. GO BACK TO SLEEP.

I have realized I am 1/3 of the way through my maternity leave. (Sniff sniff). I keep thinking that when my maternity leave REALLY starts and I’m on my own, hoo boy I’ll be in trouble. I should remember my mantra about bills: there is no such thing as a normal month. All months have unexpected expenses. To stretch the analogy, every week of my maternity leave has had unexpected help. In this case, my brother reappeared at about 10 am. He’ll be here pretty much the parts of the week my husband won’t. Another pair of grownup hands for the win. Also, it sounds like I might be able to put him up over his winter break, which will be good for another big chunk of my maternity leave.

Today’s adventure was to Barnes and Nobles. Grey and Thane both got gift certificates there from a friend of my inlaws. I figured $15 = 1 book or movie and let Grey pick his own object. For Thane I got Good Master! Sweet Ladies! by Laura Amy Schlitz. It’s a series of monologues written from the point of medieval children, and a Newbury winner. It’s not for now, but it’s a beautiful book of his very own and I will inscribe it to him — my medievally named son. I am a second child, and I know that it is important to have things that have only been yours.

Grey chose to get the movie “Homeward Bound” (I’m hoping it’s not too scary). He will also be getting Veggietales version of “The Lord of the Beans” (from us) and Curse of the Were Rabbit (from Unka Matt).

We’re having the big family dinner tonight with my aunt and uncle and brother. (Hmmmm I should review the recipe to see when I should start).

These are good days.

The living room is complete

The new carpets have arrived and the makeover of the living room is now complete. I’d originally thought of adding color to the room by painting the walls a fairly saturated color (originally blue, but green in this scheme). With all the color we’ve introduced with the carpet and curtains, however, I suspect that would be too much and that if I repaint that blasted paneling, it should be a white or a cream. I wonder if I could paint the ceiling tiles too….

Internet skills… getting rusty….

When you’re not making a post a day, you don’t feel like you can just update folks on the last 20 minutes of your life (not that I, uh, ever do that…) but you don’t feel really ready to tackle the last 20 days, either. It’s been a definite withdrawal for me to have so much less computer time, and even more importantly very little computer time with both my hands free. Writing a post with one hand is time consuming. (An element to my prolific writing is doubtless the 80 wpm I type. You can say more in less time when you type quickly.)

Let’s see. The defining element of my last few days has been OMG SO MANY GUESTS. Last weekend was a wonderful Mocksgiving. Then on Thursday my beloved Aunt and Uncle arrived in Boston for a big Bible conference thingy, and they stayed the night. This would be the Aunt who can cook amazingly, so of course I felt the need to prepare a decent meal. And of course all my free time was spent chatting with them, attempting to catch up on the last 7 years in one evening. Then last night my brother Gospel came. (I asked why he got off for Thanksgiving break so early. He reminded me that there happened to be a big Bible conference thingy going on and he was at seminary. Huh. Go figure.) Granted, Gospel is much more helpful than guestful. He even raked our lawn this afternoon in the bitter, bitter cold! But still… he’s here much of the week and my Aunt and Uncle reemerge from their conference on Monday night (another dinner). I don’t have much spare time, and that’s taken up what I have. Still, it’s entirely worthwhile.

It got cold here in New England. I’m not a fan of this. I feel like I can’t walk nearly as far; not because Grey can’t handle it but because it’s hard to properly bundle a wee baby. I’m also still struggling with walking with both boys. Problem one is that I have much less recourse if Grey decides to be recalcitrant, which definitely happens with a 3 year old. If I carry Thane in a sling, it’s just too much to also carry the diaper bag and with a potty training preschooler, that’s dangerous. (I can carry one or two baby diapers in the sling, but the diapers and a change of pants for Grey… well, that seems like a bit much.) I don’t like strollers, but I tried that and I discovered that it’s really hard to steer with one hand, making it hard to hold Grey’s hand when we cross streets, etc. And here’s the kicker — I can just about manage Grey and the stroller, but the coffee is too much. (Heck it’s also an extra hand I lack getting into the car.) Parenting is threatening my coffee supply. This is dire, people.

In boy news, Thane has already lost the newborn look and started in on the young baby look. His neck is unbelievably strong — he now holds it steady for quite a while. He still swims in his 0 – 3 month outfits, but has outgrown newborn diapers. I had actually remembered this, how in the course of a day a diaper size goes from ok to way too small. And if you try to make do with the too small diapers to use up the rest of them, you find yourself changing a lot of outfits. Thane really, really likes to be held and wants to be held almost all day. This seems entirely appropriate for a new baby, but it a bit hard to manage sometimes. When he’s feeling fussy, he really likes to be on his belly. In the big Thane-news, he rolled over twice this week. Both times it was from front to back, but still. Rolling over at 3 weeks? I would be more excited about this if I didn’t realize that physically precocious children are a lot of work.

Grey is wonderful. He has been telling us stories lately. “Once upon a time there was a boy named Grey.” He will do nearly anything if you apply pretend reverse psychology. “Grey, I do not want you peeing in that potty!” On the one hand, it’s nice to have something that works so reliably. On the other hand, I’m worried that I’m making trouble for myself. I try to use a very silly voice when I do this, but perhaps it’s not smart of us. Speaking of peeing in the potty training, it’s going slowly. The length of time between when he goes seems to have lengthened, but he still won’t initiate going to the potty and it’s often like pulling teeth to get him to go. I confess to feeling disheartened. On the other hand, he’s been wonderfully affectionate and cuddly with the cold weather. He has grown increasingly sensitive to the emotions of others. “Mommy, are you sad, happy or angry?” he’ll ask. What he’s really asking is “Am I all right with you?” He is also attuned to his brother’s emotions. He’ll come find me if Thane is crying. Sometimes he tries to make faces to cheer up the weeping babe. Sometimes, annoyed, he’ll tell Thane to “Be quiet!” In the amusing anecdote department, Grey calls letters emails. I wonder if they’ll still have letters when he’s my age. Generally, though, he’s been pretty fantastic.

The smallest one stirs. I go.

Pictures!

I have pictures! In addition to my own point-and-shoot contributions, I included some pictures taken by one of my friends (those would be the larger resolution ones at the bottom).

http://tiltedworld.com/brenda/pictures/ThaneandMocksgiving/

Thane at three weeks old

First of all, I am tired. Crazy tired. This weekend was, uh, tiring and Thane is still waking up every two hours and Grey is still getting up at sunrise and my husband has gone back to work. That advice about sleeping when your child sleeps? When you have two of them, not only can they tag team you but one of them crying wakes up the other one and then naptime becomes nothing more than your fondest wish.

Ahem.

This is my way of letting you know that not only am I not posting pictures today, I’m TIRED!

But today was Thane’s three week checkup. Let’s look at some vital stats:

Birth:
20.5 inches
7lbs 14 ounces

Discharge: (2 days)
6 lbs 11 ounces

1 week:
21 inches
7 lbs 3 oz

3 weeks:
21.5 inches
8 lbs 14 oz

For your edification, newborns are *supposed* to gain about an ounce a day. Thane has gained two ounces a day since his discharge from the hospital (bringing his weight more in line with his height, and well into normal/average).

This would also explain why I am still sore and tired, since, um, that’s a lot of feeding — both in terms of amount and time. One can only hope that he’ll start slowing down soon!

He already looks really different. His face has filled out and he looks much more like a baby and less like a newborn. How fast the time passes!

Mocksgiving

Eight years ago, I was a newly wed in a grownup apartment with a grownup job and a grownup husband doing the grownup thing for the first time. I had just turned 22. And being a grownup, I volunteered to host Thanksgiving dinner for my extended family of inlaws. Having been raised in a Protestant-and-turkey family, I just could never quite get behind the idea of going to a restaurant for Thanksgiving. Still can’t, truth be told.

There was just one problem: I didn’t know how to cook. I’d never cooked a turkey before in my life. Thanksgiving day, with my new inlaws arriving, seemed like a bad time for a first turkey, especially since my mom (whom I had on speed dial) would also be busy that day. A second problem presented itself, however. Two people cannot eat a turkey by themselves and stay married. Since I was (am) fond of my husband, I invited a few friends over to help us eat it, and broke out my still-new wedding gifts to serve the turkey. I think there were 13 of us for that trial, or “mock” Thanksgiving. We had a fantastic time. We ate, drank, told stories, and celebrated together. By the time the evening was over, we decided we’d had so much fun, we had to do it again next year.

I ended up not hosting Thanksgiving for the family that year. I don’t remember why. But every year since, I’ve hosted Mocksgiving. It’s a huge annual event. People ask me about the dates months in advance. People fly in. (I have a friend from DC here now.) It even engendered a spinoff holiday — Piemas. (Which merits its own post in March at the appropriate time.)

Tonight is Mocksgiving Eve. Usually for Mocksgiving I make: 5 pies, a batch of bread, a turkey, 10 pounds of mashed potatoes, a significant amount of butternut squash, stuffing (in the turkey and outside) and gravy. (It seems like there’s usually something else too. I used to make salad, but no one eats it so I gave up.) It is potluck, so in addition to the vast amounts of food I provide, most folks bring something else too. There is a LOT of food. This year I trimmed down to one pie. I was going to make a lemon merangue too, but my crust collapsed (must remember not to use that pie pan for lemon merangue — this is the second time this has happened). On Mocksgiving Eve, I used to spend a lot of time panicking, cleaning, polishing silver (yes, I actually have silver), and er, panicking. Now that I’ve been doing this for NEARLY a decade, the panic is significantly diminished. I know what I’m doing.

As I sashayed around the kitchen, with a candle lit above the sink and my music in the background and the scent of yeast rising in the hot water, I felt very happy and where I belonged. I love Mocksgiving.

It occurred to me this year that this is one more way in which my children will grow up warped. Piemas is fine — it is a standalone. (Plus, there is no such thing as too much pie.) But after cooking for up to 30 people a week and a half before Thanksgiving, I’m in no mood to cook a proper Thanksgiving dinner. And since we have no family remaining in the area, we don’t usually end up doing, well, anything for Thanksgiving proper. I wonder how old my sons will be before they figure out that not everyone does Mocksgiving, and moreover, most people do more on Thanksgiving. They get the Thanksgiving experience, only a bit earlier and with a slightly less great-aunt-heavy crowd.

There is one thing I hate about Mocksgiving. It is a sit down meal. We all sit down at proper place settings at the same time and eat together at table. And it is inherently important to me that Mocksgiving be held in my HOME. Therefore, there is an upper limit to the number of people who can be invited. I think I topped out at 28. Twenty-eight people in your house is a LOT of people, in case you’re curious. But I have more friends than that. I invite more people than can fit because there are always people who can’t make it. But I hate hate hate sending out the invitations. I can never invite all the people I’d like to. I know there must be friends of mine who feel left out — maybe hurt — that everyone else is talking about this fantastic affair to which they have not been invited. I wish I could figure out some way that it wouldn’t happen that way, but I don’t know how to make that work. Ah well. Generally, I invite everyone I invited last year, minus people who haven’t been able to make it for a few years or whom I haven’t heard from in quite a while, plus a few new folks with whom I’ve become closer. The first few years I was able to throw it open to everyone who wanted to come. I miss that.

But the bread is made, the pie is cooling, the largest-possible-turkey is in the fridge. Tomorrow I will wrestle with it (cursing) in the morning. My friends will arrive with hugs and casseroles. There will be the hard half-hour after the turkey comes out when everything must be done simultaneously. My kitchen, immaculate at the moment, will look for all the world like a hurricane hit it. We will retell stories, contemplate our very full bellies, stay up too late, catch up on gossip and generally have a fantastic time. I can’t wait.

The attendees at last Mocksgiving

Table 1 - the 'Grownups' table

The kids table -- I always ended up here. This year I think we'll be able to do one long table.

We usually end up with one or two (or 13) desserts.

What my kitchen looks like afterwards -- I believe this was the year the sink broke.

What I’ve really been doing

If you’ve ever met my mother-in-law, you’ll know she’s a force of nature. When she knows she’s right, she’s like water. She can overwhelm you in one great flood, or wear away at you like long, slow erosion. Fortunately, the focus of her nature tends to be home decoration, where she is (I confess) usually right.

About a year ago, we were in progress on buying this, our first house. I vowed when I moved in not to spend a lot of time or money redecorating/renovating right away, until I knew what was most important. I think I kept to that goal. We did some big structural things (hello insulation!), we renovated the baby’s room, but in terms of decoration? We’re still using some things we found on sidewalks 6 years ago.

I’m not really sure how this happened, but my mother-in-law got me started on the living room. Now, my living room is rather bland. It has a wood floor, white paneling, beige leather couches, a white carpet, white curtains and a wood ceiling. So there are three main colors: brownish neutral, white and kid’s toys. All in all, it was a rather bland room. I think her introductory drug was some throw pillows for the couches to spice it up. Then there was the chair cushions for the chairs in the dining room (same color scheme, but brown wooden paneling). The new lamp shades were really quite necessary since the old ones truly were broken. She reorganized the top of the hutch to pull out the blue accent color we’d opted for. The throws were needed to replace rather tattered ones we were given for our wedding. (Makes me feel old — that wedding gifts are old enough to need replacing. 8 years!)

Picture of the living room as it was

First, she helped me settle on a color. I thought I had settled on a color — a sort of steel blue. She said it would be a very cold color during long New England winters. I suspect she is right. So instead we went with a sort of sage or celadon with blue accents. We used some sheets as tablecloths to give big splashes of color in the dining and living rooms. We pulled it into the downstairs bathroom and kitchen with towels, rugs and potholders. Finally (and here’s the expensive part!) we have ordered new curtains (living room — may be extended to the dining room later) and carpets (dining room and living room) to complete the ensemble. We also picked out new dishes, which I’m giving a trial run before purchasing enough of.

I’ll post final pictures when the final elements arrive, but here’s how it is so far:

Throw pillows are more expensive than I would've guessed, even at Target.

We got a nice washable canvas tub for the toys under the tv.

You know those TLC programs where people come into your house, tell you what’s wrong in amusing language and fix it over two days with little sleeping? I get that when my mother in law comes to visit. But man, is she right! I’m very excited about a downstairs with, you know, color!

Much to say and no time to say it

I feel like I should give you a blow-by-blow of what it’s like to be a new parent. I mean, it is the time in your child’s life when they change the most. Already, 13 days later, Thane looks different and acts different and is different. Every moment you’re profoundly aware that he will never be this small again. This is also true for Grey, but the rate of change slows down astronomically. Grey is largely the same next week as he was last week with eensy incremental change. Thane uncurls and opens like a flower in the morning sun, so fast you can almost watch it.

But the truth of the matter is… Thane is an easy baby. When you feed him, he eats happily. He looks around at his world with deep dark blue eyes, so full of mystery that they conceal even their final color. When he is held, he snuggles into you. When he is laid in his crib, he makes a sequence of truly hilarious sounds and eventually sleeps. When he poops he makes the funniest of faces. In short, he is a good baby. There are only so many variations on good baby.

Grey is being FANTASTIC when you focus on him and give him all your attention and love. He’s also great as long as you don’t look at him or ask him to do anything. He is also on a hunger strike. (Every night for the last 3 he has refused to eat a single bite of dinner. He is refusing all snacks that are not complete junk food. I keep reminding myself that children do not starve themselves, at least in the long run.) Moreover, he’s sleep deprived. With the time change, we’re putting him to bed an hour earlier and he’s waking up the same time. But oh, is he a fun kid!

My husband went back to work today. Sniff sniff. My inlaws fly out tomorrow. Fortunately, I think my husband may work from home Weds. (helps in the “watch the sleeping baby” way), and is taking Friday off. So this week will be more a trial by brazier than trial by fire. That will be next week!

And that’s the sum of it!

He's using a touchpad. Kid is a computer genius.

What a cutie!

Euphoria

I’ve been pretty euphoric the last week or so. I have reasons for it. I was just blessed with a healthy, sweet, handsome, perfect baby boy. I have physically recovered from the birth in what I consider to be record time. I’m frankly stunned that I feel as great as I do. Other than a certain paunch, not even I can tell that I gave birth less than two weeks ago. My eldest son has dealt with the transition phenomenally. He wants extra hugs and attention, but that I can handle. He clearly fell in love with his brother just as quickly as the rest of us did.

My choice for president won in a spine-tingling fashion earlier in the week and the air feels full of hope that this time it really will be different. The tarnish of cynicism has been polished off our souls — just a bit right now. It feels epic, or at least as though it might be epic.

My husband is home and my family is around us and I have enough of everything I need and everything I want. Thanks to the inlaw phenomenon and sleeping in until 11, I even have enough sleep.

The problems of the world — the economy, the war in the Congo, the sorrows of humanity — they all seem far away from me now.

I’m even doing a pretty good job of not borrowing trouble about how much harder this will all be next week when my support structure poofs away into the ether.

It’s a wonderful time for me. I just want to take the time to say that now. I am more than free with complaints when things are not completely perfect. I should take the time to be deeply grateful and acknowledge it when things actually are as close to perfect as they come.