Nighttime Demons

The toothpick population at my house has been steadily dwindling due to the fact that I need them to prop up my eyelids so I can drive to work and get coffee so they'll stay up on their own at least part of the day (and then write endless run-on sentences). My eyelid maladies are stemming from the Little Man, who has turned into the Little Nighttime Demon this week.

My lovely, cuddly, sleeps-8-to-10-hours-at-night Little Man has reverted to waking up 3 to 6 times a night all of a sudden. Definitely not a pretty sight. And I do mean me - he doesn't seem to show an ill effect whatsoever. I however, have taken to shuffling around like Lurch and grunting at the baby in the dark at 3:20 when the siren call lures me into the nursery. And I am out of sorts and function through a thick haze when I'm awakened for the final time in the morning, which this week has been around 6 am. I feel for my poor co-workers, because as of Tuesday I stopped caring about my appearance, and have steadily declined to the point that I'm really not sure if I brushed my hair or my teeth this morning.

The thing that really sucks is that, not only does he wake up several times a night, he squeals with an unnatural sound until he is rocked back to sleep by me - and only me. Sometimes this rocking process is repeated 2 and 3 times when he wakes up the instant his head touches the mattress - which is apparently filled with sharp pins. Which leaves me actually in my bed, able to sleep for about 30 minutes each hour. Which means I slept . . . ahh, hell with the math. Not e-damn-nough.

This evening I'm feeling more alert and it has occurred to me that his behavior may not be the growing-spurt phase that's happened several times in the past, interrupting his sleeping habits for a few days. With that strange pig-stuck squealing cry, there may in fact be something physically wrong with him. Perhaps he may be teething. I tested the theory when I put him down this evening, and used the baby Orajel on his little gums for the first time in a while. Amazing, instant results. He started sucking on the Q-tip applicator, and immediately stopped fidgeting and squealing, and fell fast asleep.

No more will I be a victim of the demons. I am heavily armed, not with stakes, crosses or holy water, but with a little pink magic Orajel Q-tip, and the ability to snap the tip off and use it.

Political Wanderings

I'm not all that political of a person. However, watching the presidential debate just makes me wonder, isn't there anyone else?

I've also noticed that they are both wearing the exact same outfit and tie tonight. So, those of us who buy a car primarily for its color are just screwed.

I'm thinking I'll just watch Jib Jab and make my call.

And there was blahness

Gloomy, stressful day. All that comes to mind seems blah, blah, blah. But here goes anyway.

It seems that my production of bloggery is directly related to whether I have my computer in my office or the living room. I think I may have a fear that I have to be Responsible and Do! Work! in my office, so I just don't go down there. And blogs don't get written. One of the real reasons I use it more in the living room is that I watch TV while I'm surfing. However, the commercial that just aired talking about vaginal dryness and night sweats makes me wish I were in my office being spared exposure.

One funny tidbit: the Little Man is gaining lightning speed, and the cats are freaked out. Oddly, the in-general stupider cat - Mojo - is much better in the child avoidance category, where the normally smarter cat - Darwin - seems to get caught in the Little Man's apparently basilisk-like gaze and can't get away. I looked away for two seconds this morning and turned back to find the little man clasping the cat by both ears and the cat's face jammed in his mouth up to the eyes. Beyond the giant "Ewwwwww" that came out of my mouth, it was quite a sight to see his little blue eyes looking up at me with wonder, the cat's whiskers poking out the side of his mouth. And poor Darwin's wide blue eyes right next to his filled with startled, pleading panic.

And now I'm done.

Messy Marvin

Tonight the Little Man's dinner was quite the adventure. Thus far, he has been content to be a passive participant in meals, opening his maw like a good little bird for each spoonful of mushy goodness. Lately, though, he's been becoming more opinionated about most areas of his life, and dinner was his latest experiment. Instead of his normal tractable behavior, as I approached with his bowl of ummy goo his arms started rotating like windmills, and one caught the bowl, which dumped and oozed all over his tray. He promptly stuck his busy hands into the goop and mucked around in it. Then he grabbed the bowl and started drinking the remainder, grunting like a barbarian. The rest of the meal was spent in messy baby glory, with the Little Man alternately grabbing the spoon I attempted to navigate into his mouth and sucking on his goo-laden fingers. Finally both he and I had had enough. I did eventually find a clean Little Man, but it was only after peeling off the clothes that were paper-macheted onto him and copious amounts of soap and water. I have a feeling that dinner time will never be the same again.