Friday, September 24, 2010


Brandon and I have a king-size bed, which makes sense because he is very, very tall. A king-size bed (and I'm going to interject here that I'm not sure whether "king-size" or "king-sized" is appropriate, but I have made my choice and am sticking with it) is the size of two twin beds, which means that theoretically two people sleeping in it have the equivalent of their own bed. This would be the case if you split it 50-50, but usually the split is closer to 60-40 or possibly, on occasion, 70-30. If it gets much beyond that, I shove.

I tend to sleep on my side, a habit I cemented when I was pregnant and couldn't sleep any other way. When you reach a certain size in your pregnancy, sleeping on your back is painful because it crushes your organs and sleeping on your stomach is physically impossible, unless you're a Weeble. (I'm just kidding. Weebles aren't real.) Brandon sleeps on his stomach, mostly, which takes up more space, but he also tends to start in the middle of the bed while I stay close to the side. If I ever fell out of bed I would probably damage my skull on the bedside table, but this has not happened yet.

I'm sure that if I wanted to move closer to the middle, it wouldn't be a problem. I'm just not comfortable with so much bed around me. Think of it like swimming: swimming in a pool is great. That's a twin bed. Swimming in a lake isn't so bad either. That's a full or queen bed. Swimming in the want to stay a little closer to the shore, or in this case, the edge of the bed. I don't know why I feel safer at the edge, but I do. It's one of those weird neurotic habits that I see no reason to kick.

Calvin, on the third hand for you mutants who are keeping track, sleeps in the center of his crib, arms out to the sides like a little baby Jesus, or over his head (TOUCHDOWN!), and he kicks around a lot so that by the time I go to get him at 4am he's turned himself about 60 degrees from his starting position. This is what I mean when I mention watching him spin. He does the same thing on the floor when he plays. He makes noises and moves a lot, especially on the way to sleep but even when he's out; I've wondered before if he has nightmares, since he sometimes cries in his sleep, but he calms down pretty quickly if I check on him.

If I bring him into our room and put him in bed anywhere near me, he flails around and punches me in the face. So I've started putting him on Brandon's side and letting him take up all the room he wants, and I go back to my little 40% side. It seems that I'm destined to split the bed unevenly, but I'm okay with that.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

September 22, 2010

Dear Calvin,

I can hear you behind me in your swing making adorable baby coos and giggles while I'm typing this. I love that you have started smiling and laughing this month, because it's the most precious thing I've ever seen in my life. I hope you keep on being a happy baby.

Today you are three months old, and you have gained SEVEN POUNDS since you were born. You are almost too long for your swing, you are up a size in clothes and diapers, you can hold up your head relatively well, and you actually have a wee bit of hair! Not enough to count, really, but I didn't feel totally stupid breaking out the hairbrush after your bath the other night.

Which reminds me: you love the bathtub! You've learned what happens when you kick in the water, and when I splash your chest you grin. You're still not too keen on grabbing things like your bath toys, so we're keeping them to the side for now, but you're learning to grab soft things like the pacifier holder (which is a stuffed bunny), towels, and clothes. You're swinging your arms and kicking a lot more and I know you'll be moving around soon, rolling or crawling or whatever you choose, and then I'll have to baby-proof the house and keep an eye on what you get hold of.

I took you to a MOMS club meeting where there were lots of other babies, or rather small children. You are not yet a small child, and you cannot appreciate how thankful I was that you were not stealing toys from other children or yelling and running in circles until you fell down. You were actually quite well-behaved and cute.

Also, I apologize for scaring you with my giant hiccups.

Love, Mommy

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Things I Didn't Consider #242

I never imagined that one day there would come a time when I would be holding my baby on my shoulder, thinking how cute he was, and suddenly feel something warm trickling down into my bra, causing me to lift him up and note his milk-smeared face, and see this look on his face that very plainly said: "Now Mommy, I may have just spit up all over you, but I want you to know that in just a minute Daddy is going to congratulate me for doing so; so when you consider who to be mad at, remember that he has the capacity to reason, and I am adorable."

Friday, September 10, 2010


When I read a book, it's very rare that I use a bookmark. I'll usually lay the book down on the nearest available surface, pages down and open to wherever I left off. Often I'll read a book start to finish in one sitting, which negates the need for a bookmark, or I'll be re-reading something and not care where I pick up. If I know the story, and am not wholly invested in getting every detail, I start on random pages and just go for awhile. This may be strange, but it's just how I roll.

I always see bookmarks for sale at Barnes and Noble or Borders, but I know very few people who actually use them. My father has always marked his pages with a golf scorecard. My mother started doing this as well, but sometimes will use a receipt or other handy piece of paper. You can learn something about a person based on how they mark their books. For example, my father plays golf and my mother buys things. Those are mundane observations, but actually look at the scorecard or the receipt and you'll see what my mother buys or how well my father golfs (though he does have a tendency to use the best scorecards as his bookmarks, so his talent may be a bit exaggerated). People who dog-ear pages have no respect for the integrity of the book. I hate dog-earing, although I'm not averse to highlighting a book if the mood strikes me. This makes no sense to me.

I checked out a couple of David Sedaris books from the library and when I cracked open the second one, I found two folded pages from a SkyMall magazine. I unfolded them and started looking at the items on those two pages. First of all, I adore SkyMall and love perusing it whenever I'm flying. It contains the most useless shit that anyone could ever possibly purchase. These pages advertise personalized maps and puzzles, three different pieces of Mobius jewelry, a bear in a suitcase, a "personal fireplace," and an alarm clock that "wakes you first with the sound of gentle birdsong, then a discreet cough and the comforting" voice of a butler. That last one gets me, primarily because the voice of the butler is provided by Stephen Fry.

This got me thinking about celebrity endorsements and the depths to which famous people sink. I'm not judging; if someone paid me to put my voice on an alarm clock I'd say whatever they wanted me to say, provided the price was right. But Stephen Fry! Hugh Laurie blew up in America as the star of House, and poor Stephen Fry was left looking for work in the butler alarm clock voice business, which I wasn't even aware existed until now. And then I thought about the people I went to school with, and worked with in my few jobs up until now, and wondered whatever became of them. Their paths and mine were radically different, so why shouldn't Hugh Laurie star in a massively successful television medical drama and his former co-star record a voice for an alarm clock? Maybe he's happy with it. Maybe they gave him a free clock, or a few to give to friends and family. Although I don't think I'd want to wake up to my brother's voice in the morning, so maybe that's not the best perk.

In wondering what the person who previously checked out this book was shopping for in SkyMall, I was trying to paint a picture of the type of person who would also read this book. But why can't I do that with the book itself? I know who likes reading David Sedaris: members of the NPR set. Smart people. I consider myself a smart person. I'm trying to decipher the book's previous reader, but I'm also looking for clues about myself--things that we have in common, this anonymous person who read the same book and I. That's when I realize what the bookmark is trying to tell me: I sure as hell wouldn't buy something from a SkyMall catalog, but I have to show this to someone else, I have to tear it out to prove that this object exists, and some part of me will be disappointed when I realize I left it in a library book.

Sunday, September 5, 2010


Calvin slept TEN HOURS IN A ROW last night. Admittedly it was from 6:30pm to 4:30am, but still...this is a major milestone!

The people on Password are really stupid.

Today we spent the day in Mystic, CT. Last weekend we went to Newport, RI. The thing about New England is there are tons of places across multiple states to visit for the day. Mystic is a historic seaport, and we walked around the site and climbed around a restored whaling ship. There was also a neat planetarium show about the sky over Connecticut. We could easily do one of these trips each weekend, at least until we make friends to spend time with. Brandon was saying today that if Jon comes up they can go gamble at Foxwoods Casino (Monica, take note).

We formed a fantasy football league on CBS Sports, and my team rocked it this weekend. Unfortunately, my tight end--South Carolina's Weslye Saunders--is suspended indefinitely, possibly for the whole season. DAMN YOU, SAUNDERS. He's supposed to be an awesome tight end, but if I have to switch him out, I don't know who I'm going to pick.

I love my baby so much, and he is growing and changing so much. He smiles and coos a lot more than he used to and I had a dream last night that he said his first word and it was "bonjour." I don't know what that means. (I mean, I know what "bonjour" means; I don't know what the dream means.)