Saturday, April 28, 2012

The Jimmy Buffet Experiment

Why'd you put me in here??
Today my girls and I were in the truck headed home when Baby Girl, who was late for her nap, started fussing.  I quickly flicked on the stereo and switched it to disc: 2 song: 11, Tin Cup Chalice by Jimmy Buffet.  The fussing switched off with the first few notes.  Gabi just looked out the window and yawned, then rocked her head back and forth and started to get sleepy.  For the thousandth time since we discovered this trick, I think, that is so weird.  

Tin Cup Chalice is the the only song that works this way, and has worked for both our girls.  It's still working on Gabi, but around the 18 month mark, it suddenly stopped working with Danielle.  I could feel her thought waves, why do you keep playing that song then looking in the mirror, Mom?

So my quasi scientific mind wonders. . . Is it just the unique combination of our DNA that causes this to work?  Why doesn't other relaxing songs calm her in the way?  (I've tried countless others, including my own voice, before giving up and firing up ole' Jimmy.)  Sometimes if she's only a little fussy song number 12 can come on and all is well, but when she's really fussy, as soon as a few notes from the next song starts, "Waaaaa!!!"

Time for the experiment, all of you out there with babies, next time you're in the car throw in a trusty Jimmy Buffet CD.  Everyone has one right?  And if Baby gets fussy, give Tin Cup Chalice a try and let me know what happens.  If it works at all, it'll be within the first few bars.  Note: the music has to be louder than Baby's crying so you might need to crank it at first, depending on the strength of your little one's pipes.  Lets see if we can isolate the "Jimmy Buffet" gene.  1*, 2*

On more than one occasion, Charley has said, "We need to write Jimmy a letter of thanks."

Yes, indeed we do.

1* Note: Those who participate in this study will need to provide extensive background lineages and well as details on chemical substance exposures to each for at least three generations back.
2* Note: Just kidding about 1* note.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

A Morning in the Life of . . .

Occasionally moments in my life take on a surreal quality.  Almost as if the events are scripted by a writer with a penchant for hyperbole and potty humor.  This morning a few months ago was one such . . .

3am - Gabi wakes up but I hold off feeding her till 3:30.  (Trying to stretch these times out to get her body to go into fasting mode at night.)
4am - Back to sleep
5:30am - Big girl in bed.  My girls play wake-the-other-up-then-fall-asleep game.  Here's how it goes:  try not to laugh as mom squirms as she tries to keep me quiet and get me back to sleep while my sister snoozes, then we trade off.
7am - Up time for everyone. One of my favorite parts of the day.  Lots of cuddles, smiles and giggles.  I love it when my girls cuddle each other.
7:30am - Change baby's diaper.  She's soaked through her clothes and blanket and onto our sheets.  Get baby new clothes toss blankie in wash but keep sheets; they'll dry.

I lose track of time as I the next events pile on top of one another:
  • Head out to the kitchen, pop bouncy chair on counter strap baby in. 
  • Wash hands.
  • Start warm coco for the big girl.
  • Brush teeth (in kitchen), apply contacts to eyes. 
  • Pour glass of water.
  • Discover large pile of vomit on counter top.  Curse cat, clean vomit.
  • Wash hands.
  • Discover chunk of poo on floor near the cat food bowl from old arthritic kitty.  Clean poo.
  • Wash hands.
  • Serve coco.
  • Pour cereal for self.
  • Sit on futon in play room, play roll the ball with baby, while eating, drinking and interacting with big kid.
  • Share water with baby.  Make lame attempt to teach "drink" and "water" signs.
  • Hear cat scratching in litter box.  Sigh.  Wait for assault on my nose.  Scoop litter box.  Notice all the poop streaks on the floor from old arthritic kitty that can no longer clean himself so he scoots his bottom on floor instead.  Sigh again, dodge said skid marks.  Run scooper full of poo to potty, sprinkling litter all the way.
  • Wash hands.
  • Play with baby and big kid in "secret grotto" (spot on the floor near heat register, between shelves and futon) until big kid gets upset about baby drooling on the floor and her toys.
  • Shower - get clothes together while hauling around baby.
    • drag over bouncy
    • insert baby into bouncy
    • start water
    • step over old cat
    • step around big girl who suddenly has to go potty
    • get in shower
    • listen to big girl narrate her potty experience, “Whoa that was a big poop!  Ewww stinky!” Then resist her attempts to engage me.  ”Mooooom do you smeelll something?”  *laugh snicker*  Then the wiping starts, half a roll of TP and half a package of flushables.  Then more poo comes out and the process starts over with my big girl chattering non stop.
    • Baby is getting fussy, must hurry.
    • I need soap, lean out of shower getting water on big kid and cat to get new bar from the drawer.
    • Get out of shower, help big kid wipe while trying to keep towel on self.
    • Wash hands.
    •  Big kid washes hands too.
  • Big kid goes into room to put on outfit which is wildly inappropriate for cold weather.
  • Decides she want to feed cats, fills water dish and food bowl splashing water and scattering kibble on the floor.
  • Discover more vomit. 
  • Phone rings - Papa - “How's your day?”
  • While talking on phone and spraying cleaner on poo streaks in hallway.  “Kinda crappy (literally) today...  How’s your day?”
  • Clean up poo and vomit.
  • Wash hands.
It's 9:30am  I gotta get out of the house.  Why are my hands so chapped??

Monday, April 2, 2012

Fun with Toilet Paper

My four-year-old Boots was sick with a fever; one that knocked Charley, Berzo and me on our respective butts.  Expecting Boots to follow suit, I got her up on the sofa to watch a movie and wrapped her up in a quilt.  She had rivulets of snot running from her nose, so I set her up with a roll of TP and a paper bag as a conveniently located garbage receptacle.  Then I turned and lunged to save Berzo from adding another purple lump to the menagerie she’s collecting on her head, and when I turn back a moment later Boots has unrolled the TP onto the carpet.  Berzo seeing her favorite snack, paper, in silly abundance, makes a go for it.
“Boots, Boots we gotta pick up the TP!” I said urgently.
Boots hesitates and grins mischievously, thinking it’d be funny to see Berzo get a mouthful, then watch as I try to fish it out of her mouth while trying to avoid those super sharp “milk” teeth. (Ha!  I like to meet the funny fellow who named THOSE teeth milk, teeth.)  So I switched into my MOM voice, “Boots, pick up the toilet paper.”

She jumped down and scooped up the paper.  Now that she has been detached from the sofa, this wad of toilet paper begs to be explored.  First she sets up a “bridge” of toilet paper from the sofa to the toy chest.  She leans over the back of the sofa and wants me to counter balance her legs while she crosses her “bridge”.

The TP bridges were abandoned in short order.  She retreated into the bathroom and noticed herself in the full length mirror.  Then she tucked a piece of TP in the collar of her jammies admired the effect for a moment before running across the room taking a flying leap at the end, with the long TP cape flowing rather beautifully behind her.  She does this again and again, soon adding more capes and doing more flying.

Next we head downstairs and while I’m fixing breakfast and she makes a “Treat Trail”.  It consisted of a winding TP path on the floor on which she arranges all my favorite snacks.  Next she takes five of her Schleich horse figurines and hides them around the our front room. If I am able to find all five horses I get to walk the “Treat Trail” and eat my goodies!

And you thought TP was just for cleaning your nethers!

This is not how I look when burning up with a 102 degree fever.