Random Outlaw

Items For The New Year

Lots of things to cover, so I'll jump right in:

Santa

I caved like a cheap canvas tent on this one.  It was all Santa, all the time at our house until, like, yesterday, when I told the Moosh that Santa is now firmly esconced in his ice palace in the North Pole, and no, we can't visit.

Honestly he buys into Santa so deeply that even if I did tell him that I am Santa, I don't think he'd believe me, so I decided just to go with the flow.

New Year's Resolutions

I tried to make these attainable this year, because I usually fail miserably at them.  So, without further adieu:

• Extend the Moosh's school day to 7-7.5 hours, thereby allowing me to get more beauty rest.
• Treat school like school and not daycare... no more skipping even if I happen to be off that day.
• No more picking the Moosh up early on Fridays as a matter of course... I need downtime, and I am paying for it anyway.
• Try to get in a massage/hair cut/eyebrow wax/pedicure once a month (picking one, not all of them!).  If I go to the beauty school it is not at all expensive and I need to pay more attention to myself.
• More exercise! My T-Tapp schedule got thrown out last July and I need to at least do BWO+ 3x a week.  That's 45 minutes.  Surely I can come up with 45 minutes a week!

That's it, boring, I know.

Fucking Taxes

R didn't pay me last month causing me to swear loudly, and go on strike, so I was secretly hoping that he would continue not paying me so that I could blithely ignore the looming tax season.  But no.  There was a shiny, shiny check sitting on the desk for me this morning, so I need to prepare to send out W-2s and finish cooking the books balancing the accounts so that our accountant can file our tax return ASAP.  Even though I upped my withholdings considerably last year I am due a fairly sizeable return as long as the business didn't make any money (which, if it did, would only be about $500 - $1000 but it still screws things up because we have to pay mega taxes on that money).  I know for sure that one company lost money, not so sure about the other one.  So we'll see.

Hope nobody got too drunk over New Years.  I was at work, so no drinky for me.

Almost Human

The Moosh has FINALLY stopped taking a bottle.  We've been working on it for months, but he just wasn't ready to give it up.  Thing is, he had a terrible habit of chewing the silicone nipples to shreds.  In the past, I bought replacements, but as this last round was slowly reduced to shreds, I procrastinated, meaning to pick up a new set.  Then on Friday I went to get his bottle from my sister's room (we were at my parents' house), and I noticed that the very last nipple had been decapitated.

I went into the living room and showed it to him.  I said, "Moosh, we have a problem.  All of your bottle nipples are broken.  We don't have any more."  He replied, "That's OK, we can get one at home!"  I said, "Nope, sorry, we don't have any more nipples at home.  That was the last one."

When we got home I reminded him that we didn't have any bottles and offered him a cup of milk before bed instead.  He took it with no problem and went to sleep without a peep.   Last night was the same deal... cup of milk before bed, then to bed without a peep.

I'm happy.  It was time.  I didn't want to go on another vacation with bottles.  That sucked all the previous times we did it.  And there were no tears or anything... at least so far.  But even if there are tears, they will be at night, when we can't go get more nipples, so... he's done.

Now if he would just poop on the potty.  Then he would be almost human!

He's A Keeper

I must say, after the disastrous summer we had, I was ready to give up on ever enjoying being a parent.  The potty training plus the bad weather kept us locked in our home for 3 months straight, and the Moosh and I were ready to tear each other's throats out by September.  The then weather changed, he started peeing in the potty (but not pooping in the potty yet - any ideas fromt he peanut gallery?), and we started to have a social scheule again.  Since then things have been on an upswing, especially because his language skills have become far more sophisticated.  We can actually sit down and hold conversations with each other, and it is marvelous.

The Moosh has an extensive collection of stuffed animals.  He calls them his babies.  He wraps them in his old baby blanket and carries them around, then he'll come over to me and say, "Mom, look at my babies.  Oh, they're so sweet.  Aren't they cute?  Don't you want to hold my babies?"  The babies sleep with us, and they come with us on outings, but usually they have to stay in the car at our destination.  This worries him.  "Mom, do you think my babies are OK?"  Today we went to the bank and left the babies in the car.  I opened a new account and got a free suitcase as a promotional gift.  The Moosh loves suitcases and was enamored of his new toy.  He was playing with the suitcase when all of a sudden he looked up in horror and yelped, "Mom, where are my babies?"  I said, "They're in the car, I'll go get them."  I brought in the babies, and he said, "Oh there you are, babies!  Are you OK?  It's time for you to get in my suitcase."  He tucked the babies into the suitcase and then said, "There.  That oughta do it."

One of our little peccadilloes is that when we go to Super Target, he automatically wants a new toy. This is my sister's fault, because she loves buying him toys and always gets him one when we go there.  It's usually little stuff, Matchbox cars and the like, but there are a few large or expensive things that we don't buy on a regular basis that he just covets.  Since his birthday and Christmas are about 6 months apart, we usually save the big purchases for those events, so we've started telling him that we'll make a list of the big things he wants so that when his birthday or Christmas comes we'll know what he wants.  So the other day he had asked for a large construction truck and my sister told him that she would but it on his Christmas list.  He agreed that we could put it on his Christmas list, but then a few minutes later he piped up, "AN, what's a Christmas list?"

AN: Christmas is a holiday where we give each other presents.

Moosh: Oh.  Like a birthday?

AN: Yes, just like a birthday.

Moosh: Wow, I like-a this Christmas!

It's the first year he's really been interested in everything, the lights, the tree (at my parents' house, we don't have one at our house), opening the presents.  It's just so fun to see him get excited about it all.  That alone is making me look forward to Christmas Day... getting to watch him open his presents will be a lot of fun. 

Yep.  It's fun having a 3-year-old.  Who knew?

Damn Kids And Their "Growing"

The Moosh is in the upper percentiles in terms of weight and height.  I don't have exact figures, but he is about 43 inches tall and weighs between 40-45 lbs.  He's a big kid. 

Recently it's come to my attention that our car seat situation is not working well.  I have him in a Britax Wizard in the middle of the back seat of my Ford Focus.  It's worked well for 18 months or so, but now he is tall enough so that he can kick me in the shoulder.  While I'm trying to drive.  AHHHHHHH!

He is also just about to the point where he can unbuckle his car seat straps as well.  The chest buckle is no problem for him, but he is still working on the crotch buckle.  I've seen him unbuckle the crotch buckle once, but he didn't realize what he did and I made sure not to point it out.  But still, yikes!

I am something of a car seat snob, and I've always said that my kid will be in a five point harness for as long as possible.  I really feel that it is best for his safety.  However, kicking me in the shoulder while I'm driving is not safe, nor is it safe for him to unbuckle his car seat straps.  In fact, if he unbuckes his car seat straps, that makes the car seat useless.

So now I am slowly coming to the realization that he will have to move into a belt positioning booster fairly soon.  This makes me so nervous (car accidents are my personal anxiety bete noire), mainly because it means moving him to an outboard seat rather than being in the middle.  But if he's going to unbuckle his seat buckles, the outboard seat is probably safer anyway.  Not to mention the fact that he can't kick me if he's in an outboard seat.

If I do have to buy a belt positioning booster, that will be the FOURTH car seat I will have bought for him.  I purchased the (very expensive) Britax Wizard in hopes that he would be in it until age 5 at least, but at the rate he is growing, he will probably max out the height requirement (49 inches) within the next year.  The largest 5 point harness on the market goes to 80 lbs, but it is huge and simply would not fit in our car.  Plus, it is very, very, very expensive.

I wish we didn't live in an area that required so much driving.  Car safety issues make me so nervous, but I am not going to purchase a bigger car just so I can buy a huge car seat.  I just can't justify that type of expense.

Damn kids and their growing... I now understand why my dad wanted to put bricks on our heads to stop us from getting any taller1

Universal Donor

When the doctors told me that the Moosh had O- blood, right after he was born, I laughed.  In my entire family, including grandparents, there are no people with a negative blood type.  R has A+ blood, and I have B+ blood.  My mother has type O+ blood, and my father has type B+ blood.  One of my sisters has O+ blood as well, and we already knew that my blood genotype is BO and I always assumed that it was BO ++.

We recently had a discussion about blood donation at work, and I told them the story of the Moosh's O blood type.  Then I threw out there that I thought the tests at birth regarding Rh factor were incorrect.  Then I got to thinking about it, and I realized that it was possible - unlikely, but possible - that one of my parents had a Rh negative relative somewhere in the family tree.

I talked to my mom about it last night, and she initially denied outright that it could be possible.  But then she remembered - my grandfather's father was an unknown.  My great-grandmother had my grandfather out of wedlock.  She later married and then her husband adopted my grandfather.   So it is entirely possible that there is an Rh negative in our family tree, but we had to dig deep.

Now that I am more convinced that his blood type really is O-, I want to encourage him to donate blood when he is older.  I figure the best way to do that is to do it myself.  I'm going to look into it and see how difficult it is, but I really do want to instill in the Moosh that he is special and can really help people, especially those other people that have O- blood, and can only receive that type as a transfusion.

Edited to Add:
Huh.  After I wrote the above, I was trolling around some blood donation sites and found out that B+ blood is only slightly more common than O- blood.  Both are considered rarer blood types.  I should be donating anyway!

What Foul Being Has Perpetuated This Atrocity?

A couple of months ago I bought some used clothes off an internet website for the Moosh.  These purchases included a striped, long-sleeved shirt with a Backyardigans applique in the middle of the chest.  As we were getting ready to go out a couple of days ago, I put the shirt on the Moosh.  A few minutes later he came to find me.

Moosh: Mom, what's this? [indicates the Backyardigans applique]

Me: It's a picture of the Backyardigans.

Moosh: [horrified] WHO DID THIS??????

Me: Well, sweetie, the people who make shirts sometimes put pictures of things kids like on them.

Moosh: [pulling on the applique] Why... is... this... on... here....

Me: Look, it's just a picture of, um, let's see... Pablo and Tyrone. You know, from the TV show you watch sometimes.

Moosh: I don't like this picture.  I want a new shirt.

Me: Well, you are certainly free to choose another shirt from your drawer, but try to get one with long sleeves because it's cold today.

Moosh: Will you help me?

Me: Sure, lets go.

Moosh: [to himself] I don't like-a this Backyardigans shirt.  No. Uh-uh. No way.

We found another shirt sans Backyardigans, but it felt a little surreal discussing the merits of character clothing with a 3-year-old.

Happy Halloween!

I'm back, baby!

Hopefully I'll be posting every day this month, partly as a participant in NoBloPoMo, and partly because I've been gone for over a month and want to get back in the swing of things again.

So many things happened last month, and I'll be detailing the major highlights for you in subsequent posts.

I know a burning question from many is, "How did Halloween go?"  The answer is: meh.  I took the day off so that I could take the Moosh trick-or-treating for the first time.  Unfortunately he slept until almost 8:00 PM and then categorically refused to put on his costume.  R came home early so that he could go trick-or-treating too, and he and I were both dismayed because the Moosh wasn't playing ball.  The
"costume-no costume" debacle ended up with both me and the Moosh crying in our respective corners.  R finally decided just to take him out in his regular clothes, to which I was vehemently opposed, for the less-than-stellar reason that when I was a kid, we weren't allowed to t-o-t without costumes, not to mention the fact that I'd bounced a couple of middle school punks off my porch for not wearing costumes and acting like little assholes.  Anyway, it was a stupid thing to try and push with a three-year-old and I'm glad R went ahead and took him anyway. 

Unfortunately by the time we left the house, it was almost 8:30 and most of the houses on our street had turned off their porch lights.  We hit a couple of houses and the people were so nice, they gave the Moosh lots of candy because his bucket was empty and it was so late.  The Moosh was completely satisfied by the whole experience less the costume fight, so I guess it all worked out in the end.

Happy Halloween and happy National Blog Posting Month, everybody!  Tune in tomorrow for more fun times.

What Happened To That Kid's Head?

My little mop head had suddenly developed a fear of hairdressers.  I guess they are evil, or scary, or perhaps both.  Meanwhile his hair was gettting longer, and longer, and was dangling in his eyes.  His father was freaking out about his hair being so long (I don't know why), the Moosh was freaking out about getting his hair cut, and I was just freaking out in general.  I have nothing against long hair on boys, as long as they can take care of it.  The Moosh still routinely rubs yogurt on his head, so as long as I'm the one washing it, it will be short. 

After several failed attempts to get him in the chair at any hair cutting establishment, I began to wonder if I could just cut his hair myself.  I was hesitant, because I have no experience with hair other than my own, which I throw in a ponytail and leave it that way for the whole day.  However, I'd watched the Moosh get the same haircut several times now and it looked super easy:

• With clippers on a 1/2 inch guard buzz the hair from the bottom to about 3/4 of an inch above the ears all the way around the head.
• Brush the longer hair at the top away from the side, comb the hair up, hold between fingers and snip the ends of the hair off (only taking off 1/4 to 1/2 an inch at a time).  Continue until that layer is done, then brush down the longer hairs and trim those.  Do this for both sides.
• Comb hair on top of head into a peak, hold sections between fingers and snip the ends.
• Repeat cutting technique on the back of the head (where it swirls).
• Adjust all the way around for length and symmetry.
• Cut bangs
• Razor trim the sideburns, ears, and neck.
• Ta da!

It looked easy.  But, knowing me, and factoring in the three-year-old I would be working on, I felt destined to screw it up.  The problem still persisted though: if I didn't cut it, who would?

I made one last-ditch attempt to take him to SuperCuts this morning, but he cried and said he was scared.  Frustrated, we walked out of SuperCuts and got in the car.  In desperation, I asked him if it would be all right if mommy cut his hair.  He said that would be OK, so taking him on his word, we went to Target for a clipper set, and the beauty supply shop for a pair of scissors.

When we got home we played beauty shop for about 15 minutes, with the Moosh as the stylist.  I let him hold the clippers and "cut my hair." Then I showed him how to put the guard on the clipper and we played with that for a while.  He combed my hair while I fussed and fidgeted.  Finally I told him it was my turn to use the clippers.

I held him in my lap and started the haircut.  Thankfully there were no clipper-related disasters.  Even though I was at an odd angle I handled the clippers pretty well and finished that part quickly.  Then we moved on to the scissors.

Hair cutting with scissors is not as easy as it looks.  This is probably due to the fact that all of the people I've seen cut hair have had hundreds of hours of cosmetology training.  I had a lot of trouble combing the hair properly so that I could hold it in my fingers.  I started on one side and realized that getting the longer hair on top to "fade" into the shorter hair on the bottom is fairly difficult.  Nevertheless, I persisted at a snail's pace, trimming off the smallest amount of hair possible until I got it close to how I thought it should look.  I did one side, then the other, then the top and finally combed the front down to do the bangs.

This is where I got a little overzealous.  I should have stuck with my hair's breadth snipping until I got it to where I wanted it.  As they say, you can always take more off, but you can never put it back on.   Instead I picked the length I thought it should be and went to town.  The result was uneven.  Not heinous.  Not "my mom cut my hair" bad.  Certainly not "who went after that kid with a weed whacker" bad.  Just uneven.  I should have angled the very ends a bit more because there was kind of a break on one side, but, overall it wasn't bad.  I did a few final adjustments on the sides, then I brought out the trimmer to finish it.

The Moosh hated the trimmer and kept shrugging his shoulder up to his ear, which made it really hard to actually trim anything.  Consequently one of the little sideburns got razored a little oddly, but you couldn't tell unless you were right up next to him, so I let it go.

It wasn't a perfect haircut, nor was it a professional haircut, but it was pretty darn good considering the fact that I have never cut anyone's hair before.  I am pleased as punch.  My sister couldn't even tell the difference!  She said, "It looks like the same cut he always gets."

In summation:

Hair clipper set: $20
Scissors: $10
Cost of a haircut: $15
Happy mom and kid: priceless

Mr. Intensity

The Moosh has always been an intense person.  He feels everything to the 10th degree.  He craves attention to the point where his caregivers are ready to climb the walls because he simply won't. leave. you. alone.  Ever.  At all.  Wherever you go, there he is.

I deal pretty well with him when I am in an up phase.  Of course, I deal with everthing pretty well when I'm in an up phase.  This last summer was a down phase for me - boy howdy, was it ever!  Most days when I woke up I could barely move.  I managed to keep up with the T-Tapp, but just barely, and that seemed to tap me out for the day.  Consequently the Moosh spent a lot of hours in front of the boob tube, and I searched for my Mother's Guilt Hairshirt (TM).  What kind of mother sits her kid in front of the TV all day?  Oh, the agony. 

Considering my depression and the atrociously hot weather, we spent practially all of our time in the house, driving each other crazy.  The one time I went to therapy, my therapist said something that really resonated with me.  He said that people look to stir up trouble in an intellectually impoverished environment.  That is, if all you're doing is sitting at home staring at the TV,  you're asking for trouble.  Now I don't think TV is the root of all evil, but it shouldn't be as important as it was over the summer at our house.  Add to this the stress of potty training (honestly? I'm lucky I still have hair) and it truly was the summer from hell.  I think I had reverse SAD.  It was really, really bad.

The heat broke two weeks ago, and then we found another play group to go to, so that improved our lives immensly.  Then I went on the South Beach diet for a couple of days and even though I didn't continue that diet, I did get the kick in the butt I needed to improve my diet (Hello fruits!  Hello vegetables!) and ditch drinking sodas and eating fast food altogether, and suddenly I have newfound energy!  I actually feel good for the first time in months.

I got an invitation to join a book club (one of those book-of-the-month deals) and I got a five books for free.  Most of the books I got were for the Moosh, including a set of the Mercer Mayer Little Critter books.  The Moosh, who has not volunteered to have me read to him in almost a year and a half, refuses to put the books down.  He was under the weather on Friday and he let me read to him during the daytime.  I was ecstatic but figured it wouldn't last.  Oh, how wrong I was.

The last three mornings, he has requested his books first thing in the morning.  This has disrupted our normal routine of wake-up-and-turn-on-the-TV that we've kept for the last few months.  Then he's happy to play with his math manipulatives (sets of plastic bears and vechicles for counting, sorting, etc.), the we're off to do other things, and we've whittled down his TV time in the morning from hours to minutes.

I AM SO HAPPY.  I will admit that I have been extremely hurt by his disdain of reading.  It's something that I've always enjoyed doing with children and I couldn't wait to have one of my own so that I could share my love of reading.  He loved books as an infant and young toddler, but once he really started running well, he couldn't be bothered with sitting down to read with me (and this was wayyyy before he ever watched television, so that wasn't a factor).  I hit bedtime, of course, but it didn't always work out for whatever reason.  But now, he's requesting his books, and it is warming the cockles of my cold, dead heart.

I am enjoying him so much these days, even with his intense needs... I just really needed to read him a book, I guess.

Love, Love, Love

For Karen's Love Thursday.

I think one of the things that is hardest about the fact that R never sees the Moosh these days is that when the Moosh was a baby, R took care of him when I was at work and while I slept in the mornings, and thus spent many quality hours with him each day.  Since I worked nights, that meant R had night duty five days a week with no reprieve.  Although I preferred to co-sleep exclusively with the Moosh, R was worried that he might hurt the Moosh if he slept with him.  We sidecarred a crib to the big bed and the Moosh slept there when I was at work.  However, when I came home in the morning, I almost always came home to this:

Love, indeed.