Random Thoughts

Mega-epic sugar rush of the day: playing Saxon lyre while my son dances to it.

On an impulse, I bought two monogrammed Christmas stockings at Target. One had an "M," the other, a "B." I showed them to the Dear Spouse.

"Who's the 'B' for?" he asked.

"Ben!" I replied indignantly. (Ben being the actual to-be-bestowed name for Mr. Due On Thursday.)

The Dear Spouse apologized profusely. He assumed the "M" stocking was for him and couldn't figure out how I was a "B".



...okay, I have to admit that I was looking for the "S" stockings when I saw the "M" and remembered that my first child's name is not really Spud.

Spud has been fascinated with water recently. In particular, he likes to go into the bathroom and play with his trucks in the sink. This requires constant supervision, since it's a very short trip from the sink to the toilet. (The trucks in question are often dump trucks, too, and he'll drink the cargo of water...) That's not too bad, but now he wants to stand on the toilet to reach the faucet, or else hoist himself up onto the sink, and that's just a concussion waiting to happen.

So we started with an improvised water table in the kitchen. He's got a square play table with a dished bottom and a lift-out top (fiddly bits on one side, Duplo-esque base on the other). We put some cups with water in them in that, and he was good for a while with pouring water from cup to cup. But then you get into the splashing and the drinking the dirty water and it wasn't looking like such a good idea.

So I had an idea for Improvement. I poured two pounds of dry rice into the thing and put in his toy construction trucks and some cups and spoons.

"ooOOOOooo..." said Spud.

He's been playing with it for twenty minutes straight so far. I am going to think this is the best idea ever, right up until the point when he dumps it all over the kitchen floor.

At least dry rice is pretty easy to sweep up.

I had an ultrasound this morning to check the baby's position (head down, hurray!), and he is very much a boy. He's weighing in at 7.25 lbs (+/- 1 lb) and measuring 37.5 weeks - a week older than expected. But late-term ultrasound estimates of due date aren't so reliable (because babies come in an assortment of sizes and shapes), so I'm not going to pencil in Nov 12 as a new due date.

I meet the Labor Companions on Wednesday - they're nursing students with some doula training who provide free doula services out of Johns Hopkins. Our doula from last time does not do the doula thing anymore, and the other one we contacted cost twice as much. (And I can't guarantee my dad will happen to be in town this time! Seriously, he was an awesome doula.) Then Thursday is another midwife appointment.

Nana arrives on Thursday and is staying til Tuesday, mostly to give the Dear Spouse a break. I'm doing okay taking care of myself, but there's a bunch of stuff I can't do around the house anymore and it's all falling on him. Add to that Spud's sudden need to always be on Dad's lap and he's feeling frazzled. Nana plans to come back down a week before my due date to help around labor and delivery time, too.

Cross fingers and knock on wood that it all goes at least somewhat closer to according to plan this time!

We went to the Maryland Science Center today!

I think it was our first family trip taken specifically on Spud's behalf. Not that the Science Center wasn't cool, but I would probably not have shelled out $15 to just see it on my own. This was definitely for him, as opposed to taking him somewhere that was for us, or for our families.

He loved it. He loved sweeping sand with the brushes, he loved the swirling water and tornado displays, he adored all the buttons to push. He even ran, giggling, right up to... a blank grey wall. Kids are strange.

I was fairly content to let him play with one thing for as long as it amused him; the Dear Spouse wanted to show him different things. We would have probably never have left the atrium without some lift-and-carry. "No! No, I'm having fun here! I don't wanna goooooh, what's that?"

The kids' room is on the third floor, and we almost didn't get there because of the fun he was having on the way up. But I'm glad we made it up there, because they had a water table. That lasted a good long time, until he picked up one of the water-scooping cups and started to drink out of it. Ack! (You'd think the chlorine would be a deterrent...)

I have been wanting to see the laser harp since I heard about it. Somebody reprogram that thing! Long strings = low sounds, short strings = high sounds. Yeesh.

I've missed the last two Pennsic Wars and will miss this year, and probably the next several years. So I was looking forward to Sapphire Joust as a sort of mini-Pennsic. It seems like everybody attends it; there were supposed to be many merchants; there was fighting I didn't watch and arts classes and displays.

As Poeta Atlantiae, I felt like I needed to haul my butt south of Fredricksburg at least once, so early on I decided to sponsor a poetry competition on the theme of medieval romance. That was the "gotta go" reason for attending. Also, I was eager to camp.

The "camping with a toddler" thing was just not a lot of fun. He seemed to be confused at times: "Okay, Momma, it's been fun being outside, but I want to go in and play with cars and blocks now. Where are my cars and blocks?" Per his usual MO at SCA events, he did not want to nap, and so he got cranky. Per being a toddler, he was go-go-go-go all the time; once or twice, we got him to climb up into a Big Person camp chair and just sit in it for actual measurable times and that was awesome.

I skipped several very interesting-sounding classes because (having learned my lesson last Baronial Birthday) it is important to not do Too Much with the kid in tow. One thing - one stint of volunteering, one project, one competition - is it. In this case, it was the poetry competition: setting up, helping out some of the contestants, finding a third judge, judging, closing up, returning entries and judging forms. When not doing those things, I was in camp (except for the 20-30 min the Dear Spouse suggested I go shopping).

Between an hour of insomnia Friday night, a 5am wakeup to get to the site by 10am, and chasing the kid all day, I was too beat to attend the bardic circle that was conveniently located in our camp. I had told the Dear Spouse that if he wanted to wander the camp and look for bardics, I'd be happy to stay in with the Spud, but when we realized we had five performers just in our camp, an in-house circle seemed inevitable. Sitting 30' from the tent, I'd have heard him if he cried, so I could go too, right? Yeah! Except for that pesky reality thing. I crashed out when he did, around 9pm. (Which meant I was up at 6am, probably to the chagrin of those camping near me, although I really did try to make the coffee quietly.)

But it had its good points: we had three excellent entries into the competition; I had some nifty conversations with other folks; there were a few quiet, relaxing moments of sitting outside in the shade and the breeze when Mr Man finally consented to nap; the ham-lentil stew came out well.

But the Dear Spouse is not an enthusiastic camper. He was supportive, but he was clearly not having a good time. Given the hassles involved, it makes it hard to justify doing this again in the next 4-5 years or so. I foresee many events in our future where we skip court and/or feast to hit the road at 3-4pm when the kid(s) start to melt down.

He's two. Can you believe it?

He goes up and down stairs like a pro. He's gotten the hang of getting onto his push-along Tonka trunk, although he can only scoot it backwards for the moment. He likes us to read to him, and to look at books on his own. He stacks wooden blocks, scribbles with crayons, and likes the slide in the park.

He asks to be picked "Up!" and can make his preference for "Ilk!" or "Yuse!" known. The 'ights go 'on' and 'off'. He clamors to go "Oot, oot!" and will walk or run halfway around the complex. He sometimes says "Step, step" when he goes down the stairs, and sometimes something that sounds like he's counting, "One, two, three" (surely just imitating what we say rather than having any idea of number). Nana taught him that a stop sign was "Stop!" and now every sign is "Stop!" And all letters are "P." (From the P's on his car mat, for 'Parking.')

He still won't tell us when he needs a clean diaper, but he knows the question. I know this because every time I ask if he needs a clean diaper, he starts to cry and run around and avoid me, especially if the answer is 'yes.'

He's good with playing with his Dad and me, giving us cars or blocks to play with him. We have yet to see if this early sharing will transfer to other kids. He is meeting other kids more often, with trips to the playground and to the church nursery more often in his schedule.

( And of course the obligatory pictures! )

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Last year, I decorated but didn't really dress up (except in garb, which doesn't count for Scadians); we'd just moved, had the baby, etc. No energy left.

This year, it was my sister's wedding. The run-up involved multiple trips to NJ and some stress with the other bridesmaids. Plus, toddler. I just wasn't thinking about it, until rivka asked me if we were going to the church's Halloween party. And I realized I was totally unexcited about Halloween coming, and how sad that was, given how much I usually look forward to it.

Some shopping therapy and a mental readjustment later, and we're good to go! The front yard has a tattered sail and pirate flag hung in the tree (pirate flag saved from party we held back in College Park because I am a packrat; flag from scrap material). Old plastic skull decoration from same party updated with scrap fabric pirate bandana. A few pirate-y decorations from JoAnn's and Target, on sale, added. Yay!

I have always wanted to see Spud in a little Colonial Williamsburg coat, so I made one for him. Just needs (non-functioning) buttons. I'll have a (bad) Colonial Lady costume to go with; the mob hat, for example, is a fabric circle I'm holding onto my head with elastic. On the outside, like a headband, because I don't want to gather and sew the fabric to the elastic. But it passes the Ten Foot Rule and it's Halloween, not an A&S competition, so who cares?

How do you dress your child up as a shapeshifter?

My sister's wedding is garb-optional, and she specifically has mentioned the wee ones dressed as her cadre of fairy sprites. I forget who proposed it first (my dad?), but a pooka/púca/pwca was suggested for the Spud. Which is neat, because his Nana has been calling him "a little pooka!" for some time.

The pooka is a shapeshifter, though. It's most typically in the form of a dark horse, all the better to give terrifying (but harmless) rides to the gullible. It's most famously in the form of a six-foot tall invisible white rabbit named Harvey.

My current thought is a bunny suit, maybe with red ears or, if that's too obscure, little teeny wings on the back.

Maybe with this?



13 months old today!