Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Checking In

This is only a quick blog to let you know I'm still here.

I have an amazing headache and I'm waiting for Dave to come home from his spring health HR class. (Love the class, miss him at night)

Conor is doing a great job getting himself dressed in the morning. That's the good news. The bad news is that it takes a boatload of cajoling and threatening and general wringing of the hands to get him to do it. Tonight he booted me out of this room so "I can do this myself and no one can bother me!!"

I pointed out that we would LOVE for him to do this in the morning without the currently required audience to cheer every leg-in-pants or correctly buttoned hole.

Unfortunately, patience is not my strong suit and I have to sit on my hands and purse my lips to keep myself from bowling him over to do it myself. Dave, at this point, is not much better.

This does NOT have to do with my headache, but you would think so, eh?

Have I mentioned Baby No? I'll have to talk about that in the future.

6 comments:

gabi said...

I have no bloody idea where Conor get dressed in the a.m. but if I may be so presumptuous: put a dressing station in the kitchen. Pile his stuff on an ottoman or equivalent. In order of application, of course. Then you guys can sit around, drink coffee, read the paper and he can do his thing getting dressed. You can 'stupidvise' if necessary, but you are distracted by your own grownup stuff so you are not waiting for him to get his gear on.

Like I wrote, I don't know where he's getting dressed.

gk

Anita said...

I LOVE that idea!!

nancy said...

OK, you can't just write "have I mentioned baby" and leave it at that!!

What's up with that? Stab some IM1TREX in your leg and start telling!!

Or is there some reason you can't take drugs?

Yes, your personal life is TOTALLY my business!

Carroll said...

Well, I'm thinking Baby No is unlikely to be good news, so take your time getting around to the telling part, Anita.

And yes, creative dressing suggestion, Gabi. Maybe it doesn't *require* a village to raise a kid, but the collective wisdom of this village we call the internet sure does come in handy now and then :-)

nancy said...

Oh, see, I read it as "Have I mentioned Baby?" "No?" Rather than "Baby No."

Drats.

OneTiredEma said...

Oh, the dressing. The fighting. It makes me want to cry. (Also: the eating. the using the bathroom. the hair brushing.)

I will be the good Internet friend that others have been to me and recommend Your Three Year Old: Friend or Enemy by Louise Ames and Frances Ilg. (Toss out the '70s presumptions about where/how much mom works and you've got brilliant observations of the 3 year old mind/body.)

The 3 1/2 year old can pretty much be summed up as: "I am freaking out because of all the changes, physical, mental, and emotional, that I am going through. I must separate from you, but that scares me. Therefore, I will drive you absolutely batshit crazy. You will want to run away. There will be blood (at least rushing to your brain). But eventually I will be four and some of the shiny happy child who wants to please you will return."

Enjoy!