Higher Highs, Lower Lows

Seabass’ favorite book is currently Dinosaur vs. Bedtime by Bob Shea, and it’s no surprise as to why.  Jumping into leaves, devouring a bowl of spaghetti, dive-bombing grown-ups, and of course ROARING are some of the activities that comprise the narrative.  While it’s super entertaining for Seabass to listen to, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun to read, too.  Nothing beats a good ROAR!! at the end of a long day.

A few nights ago, I let Jake put Seabass down for the night.  As I wandered the house in Hunched Over Pick-up Mode following a rambunctious day with Seabass, I overheard the voice of my dear husband yelling something unintelligible in Seabass’ room.  At first, I imagined the worst. But as I put my ear to the door, I realized he was reading good ol’ Dinosaur vs. Bedtime and decided to capture it on film should I ever need to prove that Jake is completely nuts beneath that calm and collected façade.

Technical note: You’re gonna want to turn up the volume on this one.

My drug of choice.

If you know anyone in California, you’ve probably heard them describing the heat of late.  (I say “heat,” but to someone who lives in India, Spain, or Alabama, it’s more like a gentle breeze.)  In the balmy 81-degree heat of yesterday morning, we decided to hit the beach.

Being in his native habitat, the Wild Californian Seabass was pretty happy for a while.  He loves stripping down to his skivvies and playing near the waves.

At one point, just an hour or so into our beach visit, Seabass got really weird, really angsty.  He was playing with a bucket in the water and something about it got him really frustrated all of the sudden.  I tried consoling him verbally, tried appeasing his demons with snacks, etc.  Nothing would stop his whining and crying.

It was the first time in a long while – several months – that I’ve thought to breastfeed him outside of the usual schedule (i.e. upon waking up in the morning, going down for nap, and going down for the night), but it struck me as the right thing to do in the moment.  My friend Ginger calls it “checking in with the home team.”  There’s something really effective about breastfeeding for calming an anxious little boy down, so I wrapped him in a soft towel, found a secluded spot and nursed him down from his ledge.

I’d been thinking lately that I’m ready to stop breastfeeding.  Sometimes I fantasize about having my body to myself again, and being able to fit into several of my pre-pregnancy shirts…which are a little snug around the chest, ahem.  I also look forward to a day when Jake can put Seabass to bed without me.  That will be a day worth celebrating.

But resting there in the gorgeous California sun, with the waves crashing nearby and the world’s most beautiful child in my arms, I felt like I never want to wean him.  Clearly, we’re not yet ready.

As a mom, finding balance can be this hard. And this dangerous.

So last week was Seabass’ first that included two mornings of daycare, and in case you’re not caught up, I was nervous about it.

But lo and behold, the little gupp can’t get enough of it.  From the moment we turn onto Miss Jesse’s street, Seabass is atwitter with anticipation.  When we get to her door, he pushes away from me (UNPRECEDENTED) and embarks on a rip-roaring play adventure that doesn’t stop for another four hours, at which point I pick him up and he cries that he can’t stay longer.  This is all very, very cool.

As for me, life is more balanced than I’d ever imagined possible.  For the most part, all of my work takes place at the office on Monday and Friday mornings, which means that nap time is now available for things such as dishwashing, laundry, sweeping, sitting down to eat a sandwich, watering the plants, yoga, or – guilt of all possible guilts – reading a book.  When Seabass awakes, we are both refreshed and ready to take on a fun afternoon together.  And again, this is just on Mondays and Fridays.  The other three days of the week are spent at mom’s groups, playdates, and running errands.  It’s awesome.

That’s the long and the short of it.  Thanks for your words of encouragement when I was terrified that Seabass would wind up a terrorist later in life because I’d enrolled him in daycare.

Something happened last night that I’m still not sure was entirely real.

Around 4:15 AM, I awoke to Jake whispering and nudging me.  “Jaime!  Wake up!  There’s something I want to show you.”

He had to say it about 13 times before I would agree to rise and go with him.  I was thinking – and may have even said out loud – “This had better be spectacular.”

He took me to the back window and shone a flashlight into our backyard.  Splashing in the middle of our kiddie pool was a trio of raccoons.

“Ohmygosh,” I laughed.  “What are they doing here?  Are they thirsty?”

“No,” said Jake.  “They’re playing.”

No, no. Not playing like that.

And sure enough, they were.  Jake had awoken to the sound of splashing and Murphy growling defensively from his doggie bed.  When he followed the sound, he looked out and saw the raccoons – not drinking, not scavenging – PLAYING with Seabass’ pool toys.  That’s when he decided to wake me up.

And I’m glad he did.  Mostly.  Sort of.  I’ve been up since then.

So has Jake.  As we lay there in the dark, eyes wide open, he laid down the law: “No more leaving the kiddie pool out at night.”

Addendum: I Googled “raccoons playing in water” and got 16 and a half million results.  What the…?

Jake recently downloaded a bunch of old photos off his phone.  This was one of them.

Not only is this shot beautifully composed, it is also a window into a completely different time in my life – a time when I could read whole magazine articles and leave things I value on the coffee table.  Oh how the world would soon change.

Seabass’ nap is almost over and I’ve spent the last two hours (plus two hours LAST NIGHT) trying to fix a post on housecleaning that WordPress insists on destroying.  But I’m over it.  Sorry, loyal readers.  I actually have to go clean my house instead of writing about it.

Old-school awesomeness in a bottle.

This one’s going out to Seabass’ great-grandma, Nana, who recently helped me out with a burning, stinging, blistering problem in our household: Seabass’ diaper rash.

All told, I went to Dr. Awesome about four times to deal with it to no avail.  We did barrier creams, we did prescription creams, we did baking soda, we did chlorine-free diapers.  We also got a boatload of suggestions from all of you out there in Blog Land.  But still, whenever Seabass got teeth, the problem would once again rear its ugly little head in the form of angry red bumps on little dude’s heiney.  And it was SO uncool.

It was during one of these episodes that Nana came to town.  We whined and moaned about the problem and she suggested something called Mexsana powder.  “That was the only thing that worked for me with young kids,” she added.  Perhaps sensing that we were up to our ears in failed suggestions, she quietly went out and bought some for us.

And wouldn’t you know it?  It works.  Consistently.

So thanks, Nana, from the bottom of our clean, fresh, neutral tushies.