The story of the unfavored parent

Ever since Ben was old enough to have a favorite parent (around 8-9 months, maybe?), it's been Heath. Unequivocally. And I get it. He sees me all day long and Daddy's loud and energetic and fun. For a long time it didn't bother me, because it gave me a break. But after a while it started to get to me. After all, I do almost everything for him, including giving up sushi and booze for 10+ months. I know that's a ridiculous way to look at it and it's something he probably won't appreciate for 25+ years, if ever. But my brain goes there sometimes.

Then, over the summer it started getting better. He was more willing to interact with me even while Heath was around. I began to think maybe we were at the end of this phase. But come fall, the favoritism started up again WITH A VENGEANCE. It's as bad as it ever was. He does fine with me when Heath's gone, but in the evenings and on the weekends it's All Daddy. Heath can't even go to the bathroom for 2 minutes without Ben throwing a fit. And he takes shorter naps because he knows Heath's home, so he wants to play.

Luckily Heath usually doesn't mind being the center of attention all weekend. He has the stamina to keep up with Ben and I know he misses seeing him as much during the week. And while I still appreciate the break from Ben duty, it really stings when he refuses to play with me and just cries for Daddy.

This is sort of a long winded way of explaining why I've only posted one blog entry this month. We've been going through a hard time with the favoritism and I haven't felt much like blogging about the little boy who's rejecting me at every turn. He's just as cute as ever and is talking up a storm. This is just something I need to be okay with. Especially since the woman from Parents As Teachers told me that around 2.5-3 kids usually start to identify with and favor the same sex parent. Gosh, I knew Ben was smart but I didn't realize he was that ahead of the curve.

Screw Jack Frost

Though I enjoyed snow as a child, I've long since accepted that as an adult, snow sucks. It just makes life harder. My newest lesson is that as a parent, winter sucks! Save a few blessed weeks, Ben's had a runny nose since October. That was also the last time he slept through the night with any regularity. We still get a few nights here and there, but once he hits three in a row then he gets a cold or an ear infection or he just feels like inflicting some torture. He's going to graduate to water boarding soon.

This will all get better once spring hits, right? Right?

RIGHT?!

Today I was That Mother.

The air pressure in my tires was low and I had to get my oil changed anyway, so this morning Ben and I went to Jiffy Lube. Well, I was planning to go to the gym afterward, so I hadn't showered and I was wearing work out clothes which, since it's Friday, smell like a locker room. Then, after The Cat in the Hat Comes Back got boring Ben decided to explore the waiting room. So I was chasing him around this small room, trying to keep him from going behind the counter and touching the electrical outlet and opening the doors and messing with the coffee maker. All the while he's knocking into people and then he threw a fit when I wouldn't let him push around the "Wet Floor" sign. I had to stick it in the bathroom. Plus, I kept dropping my phone and Ben's books and the nice man sitting across from us kept picking them up. It was like I was in a goofy British comedy that makes Americans go, "Um... why is that funny?" It was ridiculous. And then when we finally got to the gym I looked in the mirror and noticed I had missed getting a huge chunk of hair up into my ponytail. All I needed to complete the picture was a shopping cart full of crap.

Five years ago today we were married

This has been a trying week in the Borders Household. Heath has had to work a lot. It's hard on him because he hates missing those few hours with Ben in the evening. It's hard on me because taking care of a toddler for 14 hours straight should be an Olympic sport. And it's hard on Ben because he doesn't get to see his daddy.

So Ben and I have been grumpy and Heath's been feeling guilty. It's too bad the culmination of the week had to be our 5th anniversary. Months ago Heath asked me if he could go to a programmers conference in town today and I said okay. We're going to Hawaii in two weeks, and that's really our anniversary trip. However, I must admit now that it's the actual day it's bumming me out that Heath probably won't be home until after I'm asleep. That's why it seems very appropriate to share this poem today.


True Love
by Judith Viorst

It is true love because
I put on eyeliner and a concerto and make pungent observations about the great issues of the day
Even when there's no one here but him,
And because
I do not resent watching the Green Bay Packers
Even though I am philosophically opposed to football,
And because
When he is late for dinner and I know he must be either having an affair or lying dead in the middle of the street,
I always hope he's dead.

It's true love because
If he said quit drinking martinis but I kept drinking them and the next morning I couldn't get out of bed,
He wouldn't tell me he told me,
And because
He is willing to wear unironed undershorts
Out of respect for the fact that I am philosophically opposed to ironing,
And because
If his mother was drowning and I was drowning and he had to choose one of us to save,
He says he'd save me.

It's true love because
When he went to San Francisco on business while I had to stay home with the painters and the exterminator and the baby who was getting the chicken pox,
He understood why I hated him,
And because
When I said that playing the stock market was juvenile and irresponsible and then the stock I wouldn't let him buy went up twenty-six points,
I understood why he hated me,
And because
Despite cigarette cough, tooth decay, acid indigestion, dandruff, and other features of married life that tend to dampen the fires of passion,
We still feel something
We can call
True love.

Deja Vu all over again

Last night was what we in the industry call "a bad night." Last week Ben was diagnosed with mild double ear infections, which explained why he'd been having some trouble sleeping. However, since we started the antibiotics he's been sleeping fine. Until last night.

Heath put him to bed around 8pm, as usual, but he wasn't actually asleep in his crib until 1:30am. We took turns attempting to soothe him to sleep, trying everything in our parental playbook: rocking, singing, reading books, playing his CDs, letting him cry it out. We even brought him into our bed, though it was apparent after 10 minutes that it wasn't going to work. Nobody would get any sleep when one of the sleepers kept trying to crawl off the bed.

So finally at 12:45am I did what I've never had to do before, even when Ben was a newborn: I drove him around until he fell asleep. We drove for a long time and as we neared home my stomach was tied in knots. Being sleep deprived is a truly horrible thing and I was going to cry and cry if Ben woke up again. Well, he did wake up slightly when I took him out of the car seat, but he laid down in his crib with no protest. Then I had an extreme case of deja vu from a year ago. I walked back into our room wishing and hoping and praying that he would stay asleep, but knowing that it would take me a while to get there myself. I flipped on the baby monitor and let out a sigh of resignation as Heath began to snore. I laid down, sweater still on and hair still in a ponytail because if I had to get up again I didn't want to bother with those things. Then for half an hour I tried to calm my mind, but every time I heard Ben move (sounds that normally don't even wake me anymore) an electric bolt of fear would thrill down my spine and my body would tense, waiting to hear that whiny cry over the monitor. Luckily it never came and I was able to get to sleep in a respectable amount of time, but it's amazing how quickly I went right back to that place. We haven't had a night like that in many months, but I automatically went into battle mode. With time the mind can dull the pain, but apparently the body never forgets.

I'm a horrible mother

I know the title of the post isn't true, but I feel like it after what happened yesterday. We visited the City Garden, which is a cool urban garden with sculptures and a splash area for kids. Now that Ben's becoming an accomplished walker he was having tons of fun walking around to the different water jets and just exploring. I was walking near him, but letting him have some independence to walk where he wanted.

Well, in the middle of the water area is a fountain in which kids are allowed to swim. It was too deep for Ben, but there was a nice wide stone platform to hold onto and watch other kids. He was headed for the platform and when he was almost there he lunged a bit, as he often does when he's near his destination. Only that time he misjudged how far away he was. His hand slipped and he fell face first into the platform and then onto the ground. I knew it was going to happen the second before, but I wasn't close enough to stop it. I just watched in horror.

Of course Ben started screaming and honestly I was expecting blood and a possible trip to the ER. However, his face was just pink where he'd hit on his left cheek. I thought the bruise would be massive, but it's not. Still, between that and the bug bite he scratched he looks like he's been in a fight. Playgroup's getting rough.

I feel very lucky that it wasn't worse. The platform was rounded, so I think that saved us from more injury. I don't know what I'm going to do when something really serious happens.

The 10th Month: You can take it

Last week Heath's (and Ben's!) cousin Kathe was visiting and we got to spend Saturday with her. We had a lovely day at hurling and evening at Heath's parents' house. During dinner Kathe mentioned that a friend of hers really loved when her babies were 9 months old, as Ben is, because that's when their personalities started showing through. Ben's got personality alright, but I have to say, I'm not loving 9 months old. Along with that personality came a will of his own and everything has gotten much harder. Almost every meal is a battle. Suddenly he hates having his diaper changed. None of his toys are the LEAST bit interesting and he detests being confined in his highchair or stroller. I'm not saying I blame him for all of these things. Some of them are quite understandable. But he whines all day long. And again, that's one of his only ways of communicating, so I understand, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. I haven't yet told my 9.5 month old son to shut up, but it's seriously crossed my mind.

So right now I'm just holding on until he has a breakthrough. I'm laying all of my hopes on the fact that he'll become more pleasant once he's walking. I think I'll be able to deal with the mess better than with the whining.

I hope.

Oh, what a night!

All three of us were up at 1:00am last night. In a surprising role reversal, it was we who woke up Ben. Our carbon monoxide detector went off. Nothing like high pitched screeching to bolt you out of bed in the middle of the night. Luckily the nice fire fighters determined that the battery was just low and there was not, in fact, any gas in the house that shouldn't be there (resisting... Heath... fart... joke...).

Obviously Ben knew something was up, since we're not in the habit of waking him at 1:00am and spending 30 minutes hanging out in the car. While the fire fighters were doing their thing he was calm, but once they were gone and we tried to get him back to sleep, he was freaked out. I read him a story and he was frantically looking around, trying to figure out what happened. Then he started crying and lunged for Heath, so he gave Ben a bottle and sat with him for a while. We thought he was asleep, but he started crying again, so I rocked him until he finally fell asleep at 3:00am. I didn't get back to sleep for another 30-45 minutes after that.

So it was a tough night, but I'm proud of the way we handled it. We didn't freak out, Heath called 911, I gathered Ben and remembered to bring my cell phone and keys outside. I embraced the possibility that we might have to go somewhere else for the night. We were cool under pressure and it all seemed very parental.

Bink-ified

Yesterday Ben came down with his second cold in a month. Like the first one, it doesn't seem to be too bad, just a stuffy nose and some coughing and sneezing. But, combined with teething pain, it makes sleeping very difficult. For everyone.

Heath put Ben to bed last night around 8, as usual, but he didn't go down easily. He woke up two or three times before 9:30 and I just knew it was going to be a bad night. I wish I wasn't right all the time.

The problem is the binky. He's become completely dependent on it to fall asleep. In some ways that's good, because most of the time when he wakes up at night I can just pop it back in his mouth and he's asleep again. However, when his nose is stuffed up, it poses a problem. Mainly in the fact that he can't BREATH.

I tried to get him to sleep without it last night and I was successful. I just would've had to hold him in the rocking chair all night. I was having major flashbacks, though. Rocking him in my arms at 2 am, feeling triumphant when he fell asleep and then feeling utter despair when, immediately upon his head hitting the mattress, his eyes popped open. Eventually I brought him into our bed, because I wouldn't get any sleep if I didn't. As it was I got very little. I did get to witness Ben sucking on the binky, pulling it out to breath and then putting it back in. We have raised a binky addict.

Bad days are only days that are bad

Wednesday was one of Those days.

It actually started off well. Ben only woke up once during the night and cried for maybe a minute before going back to sleep on his own. Then I woke up at 6:30am to the sounds of a baby laughing. I don't think there's any better way to wake up.

I changed Ben's diaper, we went downstairs and I fed him a bottle. Then we were going to head back upstairs to wake Heath when I noticed the first indications of the day ahead. There were little white cat prints in a neat line through the entire foyer and into the kitchen. At first I was confused, because the cats don't normally leave prints like that everywhere they go. Then the horror dawned on me: They only leave prints like that when they've stepped in water and then stepped in their litter box.

Which is in the basement.

I carried Ben downstairs and we discovered that the rainstorm the night before had flooded the basement. Again. At first it didn't look too bad, but upon closer inspection a little while later, it was quite a lot of water. Not the record, though. That was on my birthday, when Ben was 2 weeks old. The entire basement was covered in at least 1/4 inch of water. Happy birthday to me.

So, Heath went into work late and we started our Wednesday morning throwing out cardboard boxes and suctioning water off the basement floor. It really gets the blood pumping. The irony is that we already had someone coming that night to talk about waterproofing.

Ben and I spent the afternoon at the Galleria with the moms group, which was fun and managed to take my mind off the basement for a while. Then we came home and I knew I'd have to clean up more water, because it was raining while we were at the mall. So I spent another 30 minutes vacuuming up water, afraid I'd be electrocuted, because I couldn't manage to keep the cord for the wet/dry vac out of the pools.

I knew I was racing against the clock because the waterproofing guy was going to be here at 5pm, and in my experience salesmen like that are usually early. Then, OF COURSE, just to make the day that much more pleasant, Ben woke up only 45 minutes into his nap. At a time when he usually sleeps for an hour and a half. And he woke up extremely grumpy. I should've expected it. The boy has a sixth sense. Most of the time he's pretty content and takes his naps fairly easily. But if there's ever a time I'm counting on him to sleep or to be content, he most definitely won't be.

I tried to get him back to sleep, with no success, and then the waterproofing guy showed up. Ben was okay while I was holding him so I thought maybe he'd be merciful and lay on his playmat while I talked to the guy. What was I THINKING?! Not only did he start crying, but he started screaming like I was stabbing him to death, rather than just not touching him anymore. Luckily the guy went into the basement and about 2 seconds later Heath got home.

After some rocking and singing I thought Ben might fall asleep, but I am a foolish Mommy. So instead of having an adult conversation about the state of my home I had to entertain a grumpy 5 month old who would've normally been sleeping.

Ben was grouchy all evening and by the time he went to bed I was reduced to drinking Bacardi Silver Raz and eating raw cookie dough. It was that kind of a day. And it had started out so well. Though, yesterday started off with Ben leaning over and spitting up all over my crotch, soaking both my pants and my underwear, and it wasn't such a bad day. So you just never know.