Just before logging off, Andrew's mutters became far more frantic, so in I went to check on him. He'd managed to get both arms out of his swaddler, and they were waving around his head. How he did this, I don't know, since the swaddler was still firmly velcroed shut. I think I'm raising Houdini.

The problem with 1 or 2am feedings is that you're up at 1 or 2am. I don't know about anyone else, but I find it extremely difficult to get back to sleep after trekking downstairs, prepping a bottle (which isn't that hard; the formula's pre-mixed and just needs to be heated enough to take off the chill), feeding Andrew, burping, and then rocking him back to sleep and to ensure he doesn't spit it all back up again.

It's not that I'm not tired - I am. But if you've ever been awake in the wee small hours of the morning - generally 3am - you know that everything you have ever done wrong in your entire life comes back to haunt you. Your brain is so busy occupying itself, replaying "Worst Moments of Your Life, the Remix", it can't be bothered to go to sleep.

So I find myself mentally composing LJ posts to get my mind on another track. Which I do most of the day anyway, actually, and never find the time to sit and write them down, even for posting later. I remember hearing an NPR story three or four years ago about a woman who had scrapbooked every single day of her daughter's life. Literally, every single day her daughter had been alive - and the girl was maybe two or three by this point - she had a corresponding scrapbook page.

I really, really want to know how that woman found the time. Of course, her husband was probably around, so it was probably easier for her to eke out an hour or two. Me, I rely on Andrew taking a nap, which isn't much of a guarantee these days. I can get him to nap for an hour maybe in his crib, but by then, I have a pile of laundry to fold, half a dozen bottles to wash, a cat clamoring for attention, three or four thank-yous to write, and no matter what time it is, dinner to make, if I want to eat at any point. Recently, this list has included going out to shovel snow - it took 2 hours, over the course of two days, to be able to see the car again. To say nothing of the bathrooms which haven't been cleaned (pretty sure there are new forms of life in there), the floors which haven't been swept (I saw a tumbleweed the other day, I kid you not), the photographs which haven't been posted (there are several, all way cute), the emails which haven't been answered (all of which should be marked "priority"), the fics which haven't been read (some of which are even sitting on my hard drive). And me, who hasn't showered in who knows how many days, and right now, the idea of Mommy taking a nap is more intriguing.

A few nights ago, I laid (lay? lied? Eh.) in bed for about an hour and a half, waiting to go to sleep. I figured if that happened again, I'd just get up. So here I am.

The flipside to this, however, is that the computer is in the room next to Andrew's. And I swear, if I get on the computer while he's asleep, he wakes up, without fail. He was asleep when I came in here at quarter to two - and it's now 2.07 and he's grunting and making his I'm-Not-Happy noises. I don't know if he can hear the typing - I sort of doubt it - but regardless, there it is. So I'm hesitant usually to get on the computer when he's asleep, even though I know I should, so that he can learn to sleep through whatever about the process is keeping him awake. (I have a friend who vacuumed while her son was sleeping, so he'd learn to sleep through it. I have not tried this, but that's mostly because the vacuum is still on the fritz, although if it weren't, vacuuming would be on the To Do List at a very low slot.)

Anyway.

( Today = er, Monday - was not too bad, actually. )

( Chocolate Pudding )

So Andrew and I, we're pretty well set for the next snowstorm. I have diapers and formula to last the rest of the week, I have milk, I have chocolate pudding, and I have internet (for the time being). The one downside of more snow tomorrow - apart from there being more snow tomorrow - is that I was supposed to take my sewing machine into the shop on Tuesday, and since the snow is due to start around noon, I don't think I'm going to make it. I was also going to swing by the library since they're next to each other, but I don't know if they're going to be open (their website says closed Monday, no word on Tuesday, but it wouldn't surprise me if they decide to remain closed).

Anyway, I bet you very good money that Andrew will stop muttering in his sleep the moment I turn off the computer (when I stop typing for anything longer than 30 seconds, he falls quiet again), and it's very late/early now, and I should probably try to get some rest, if not sleep.

Either that, or more chocolate pudding. I really, really do not want to know how many calories are in that pudding. Yum.

I have power (so far, knock wood) but no internet. Andrew's super-cute reindeer pajamas are too small now. I'm not sure which is worse.

Andrew is successfully napping (I say "successful" because he has gone down in his crib for an HOUR. This is big, people. Let's see if I can't make it happen again), the tree in the back is still scary, I can't open the door to get to the back porch without an avalanche of snow coming in the house, so trying to shake the snow off the limbs is sort of moot. (Also, I can only reach maybe five of the forty limbs, so I have to wonder about how useful it would be.) Besides, I'm more concerned about all the snow that is literally up against the side of the house, and what will happen when it melts.

Also, the snow plow just got stuck on the street outside. And our car, a Toyota Corolla, has so much snow on it, you'd think it was a mini van.

And I'm out of milk. Andrew, happily, drinks formula, which does not require milk. If I'm truly desperate, I have a little half-and-half that I can water down, plus cans of evaporated milk that I imagine would do well with the same treatment. On the other hand, I bet you get some kick-ass hot chocolate from evaporated milk.


Dear Weather,

You suck. As if being home alone with an infant isn't isolating enough, you had to snow me in. Thank you. Go to hell. Take the snow with you, it'll melt faster.

No love,

Me

( more snow )

Yeah, I'm slow. Hush.

What was the #1 song the day you were born? Google the date and #1 song and then post your #1 song on your LJ - preferably with a Youtube vid if you can find one!

The US #1 for the week I was born:


Okay, make fun, but at least it's catchy! I dare you to play this video and not dance in your chair.

Then again...dancing seems to be a theme:

The UK #1 for the week I was born (well, close to it - I can't find the exact week):

What are we on, Snowpocalypse #3 or #4? I've completely lost count.

Anyway, when I woke up Wednesday for the 2am feeding, the view out of the windows was so gorgeous, I took pictures. Strangely, the view is the same two days later, although with different snow.

( Photos of Snow. Ooo, snow. )

Also, because I know you all would like them:

( Andrew in his new winter hat. )

If there is anyone anything particularly wants me to see (er...switch that around, actually), please tell me here because Andrew has decided that he doesn't want to sleep anywhere but Mommy's arms. This means the hour a day I got online (assuming I was willing to actually be awake at 5am, which is a whole lot of "fat chance" since Bill left again and I re-entered single mommy-hood) has now been cut to approximately five minutes wedged in between the time I put him down to the time he realizes I have put him down. There is barely reading of the email, let alone the flist.

Also, he's started spitting up everything again. I'm further convinced that this is his form of protest. Way more effective than carrying around signs, I'll tell you that.

Problem is, he knows me. I'm a total push-over at 2am. At 2am, all my defenses are not so much defenses as they are welcome mats.

In 24 hours, I'm letting him scream it out. Because someday, I'd really like to shower again.

Hmm. Interesting. Andrew's feeding schedule has been off all day, mostly because it was knocked an hour off last night, and I haven't been able to get him back on his regular 8-11-2-5 schedule. So he had his "8pm" bottle shortly before 7pm, and I figured, "Eh, I'll just put him to bed now." Made sense at the time, he was all cranky all afternoon and had barely slept longer than fifteen minutes at a stretch, so I figured it would be easy.

HA. He basically babbled and squawked and demanded pacifier restoration constantly....until about ten minutes ago.

At 8.10. His normal bedtime, more or less immediately after his 8pm bottle.

Apparently, Andrew knows his schedule better than I think he does. Either that or it's just a crazy coincidence.

( It's a bit humbling when the pregnant ladies run faster than you do. )

I think Andrew has grown another inch. Either that or his clothes are shrinking - seriously, he's fitting into 3-6 month clothes now, and half of his 0-3 are too short to let him stretch out. (His poor little legs stay permanently bent in a couple of pajamas. The really cute pajamas, too! His pile of outgrown clothes grows daily.) I can't believe the clothes are shrinking - okay, fine, I'm doing way more laundry than I ever believed I would actually do (I fear to see the water bill - the electricity bill was already ridiculous), but I'm not washing in hot water and I don't use the high setting on the dryer.

And really, Andrew just seems longer. It's getting difficult to hold him in one arm now, and that used to be cake. I swear to God, I think he grew half an inch when I put him in his swing this afternoon so I could use the bathroom. I really want to weigh him again and see if he's more than ten pounds. I keep hearing either 11 pounds or double his birthweight (which are around the same thing for him) before he can sleep through the night, and that would be a lovely thing indeed.

Andrew is beginning to squawk - he ate 2 1/2 hours ago, I know he's not hungry - and I have to feed and dress him before packing the car and getting out of here in time to go to my first session of Mommy Boot Camp (which should be all sorts of interesting. So the review of A Single Man will have to wait for his afternoon nap.

However, as promised, I have copied the following, which is Bill's report from the evening of January 27-28, when he handled the 11pm and 2am feedings. Silly man.

I would like to point out that usually I'm asleep a good hour before this all happens. We were finishing up season 3 of The Tudors and I was sort of captivated by the spectacularly incorrect costumes.


2310 azriona goes to bed.
2315 azriona is asleep.
2350 Andrew starts getting fussy
0000 Fed Andrew 3 ounces
0045 Andrew gets hiccups and starts fussing again
0100 Bill starts changing Andrew's diaper
0105 Andrew kicks baby powder bottle out of Bill's hand, spilling powder all over the bed
0106 Profanity
0110 Andrew is changed into pajamas and Bill attempts to re-swaddle him
0110 Andrew spits up
0120 Andrew calms down and is put back in crib
0200 Andrew starts getting fussy again and wriggles out of swaddling
0210 Andrew starts crying
0215 Fed Andrew 3 ounces
0225 Andrew drops pacifier out of his mouth and onto the floor.
0230 Bill can't find pacifier in a dark room on the floor while holding an infant
0231 Bill realizes there are no other pacifiers in the room because he spilled baby powder over the other ones
0232 Profanity
0235 Bill returns with pacifier from downstairs
0240 Attempt to re-swaddle
0250 Andrew calms down, goes back in crib
0330 End of Shift

Anatomy of Mommy's First Night Out Without the Baby
aka, Andrew v. Colin Firth

8am-4pm - Conveniently forget that tonight is meant to be Girls' Night Out. No babies allowed.
4.01pm - Remember. Worry.
4.02-4.45 - Continue worrying.
4.46 - Purchase tickets to movie online, because once the ticket is bought, I can't back out.
4.48 - Continue worrying.
5.30-5.58 - Start getting ready to go. This involves changing into clothes not covered by spit-up, brushing hair that hasn't seen a brush in days, making sure that there are enough clean bottles and formula to last the night, because I am a realist and know that Bill's not washing anything nor is he making more formula (nor am I when I return home). Locate my Metro things, including the Metro card, moleskine notebook, Advent Calendar Drabble assignments, pencil, cell phone.
5.59 - Say goodbye to Andrew.
6.00 - Realize I can't find car keys.
6.02 - Locate car keys. Say goodbye to Andrew.
6.03 - Decide to wear heavier coat. Say goodbye to Andrew.
6.05 - Change coat. Feed the cat. Say goodbye to Andrew.
6.07 - Ordered to leave house under pain of kicking from husband.
6.08 - Say goodbye to Bill. Say goodbye to Andrew. Say goodbye to Cleo.
6.09 - Say goodbye to Andrew again. Grab pictures of same in case someone asks.
6.10 - Leave the house.
6.14 - Hit a red light. Think about calling to see how Andrew is doing.
6.18 - Arrive at Metro, park, board train. Think about calling to say I've reached the Metro.
6.20-6.50 - Train to Metro Center.
6.51 - Exit at Metro Center. Smartly and confidently exit the station, turn right onto 11th Street.
6.55 - Realize I am walking the wrong way. Smartly and confidently turn around and go in the other direction.
7pm - Arrive at E Street Cinemas. Collect ticket. Specifically do not think about Andrew at home with Daddy.
7.10 - Head down to theater. Check phone for messages. Nothing from home. Either Andrew is okay, or the phone lines have been cut. Not sure which it is.
7.15 - Consider turning phone to vibrate instead of silent. Go silent anyway. (There's no reception anyway.....)
7.20 - Movie starts. (Loads and loads of previews for mostly foreign films, including a Danish movie and a German black-and-white movie.)
7.25 - First shot includes Colin Firth naked. So far, Colin Firth is winning. I'm not sure what he's winning, but he's naked, and therefore, winning.
7.26-9.15pm - The movie. Do not think about Andrew.
9.16pm - Movie ends. Call home to see how Andrew is doing. In my defense, I was told to do this by Bill before I left. Andrew is fine. Andrew is asleep, sort of.
9.20-10.30 - Dinner. The conversation is not entirely dominated with discussion of Andrew. No one asks to see pictures.
10.35-11.10 - Metro home. There is a baby on the train - well, a toddler. I wonder how Andrew is doing. It's time for his bottle. Is he getting his bottle?
11.10-11.15 - Drive home.
11.16 - Home. Andrew is sleeping. Monitors are silent. Resist urge to check on him. Resist. Resist. Resist.
11.17 - Sucking sounds from monitor. Andrew is asleep and likely dreaming of next bottle. All is well with the world.
5am - Andrew wakes up for 5am bottle. Definitely cuter than Colin Firth; Andrew wins.




Edited to add: To be fair about the pictures - they have all seen him before. And they'll all see him again. So I'm not upset or anything. But it's like I've discovered with going shopping and taking him along. If we're out and no one stops to say how cute Andrew is, I sort of feel as though it's a wasted trip.

Yesterday I said that Andrew was sleeping better at night. That was posted before Bill woke up and explained to me what happened when I went to bed. Here's his transcript of how his evening actually went. Poor, amusing, sleep-deprived Bill. My sympathy is limited, but the amusement factor is high.

There is a plot apparently to "kidnap" me and take me to see Colin Firth in A Single Man tonight. I want to see it (I've seen good reviews, plus, Colin Firth), but....Bill hasn't done an actual bedtime yet. And even if Andrew goes down relatively well at 8pm, he usually has a bout of intense fussy before falling asleep. (The last great fight, I figure.) I have the feeling I'm going to sit in the movie only half paying attention, and the rest of the time fingering my cell phone wondering if I should call and see if they're okay.

Sometimes, I get to post things. It's kind of cool.

Yesterday we took Andrew on a Road Trip. We've done mini ones before, over to Laurel to visit Bill's aunt, but yesterday we drove practically to Charlottesville to visit his...well, not exactly namesake. Andrew's middle name, Dean, was the last name of a friend who died in a car crash three years ago (since her first name wouldn't work, as we don't subscribe to the Boy Named Sue theory), and yesterday we went to visit her parents.

Two hours there, two hours back, with a baby in the backseat. Happily for us, he slept the entire way, but we didn't dare stop because I had exactly two bottles worth of formula and only four diapers. (Only four diapers. Ha!) This wasn't so bad on the way down, but we'd been hoping to get barbecue on the way home again. And had we stopped anywhere for longer than two minutes, we would have run into Andrew's 8pm bottle, and had we missed that, bedtime would have been an utter mess.

Bedtime, happily, has been getting easier. Andrew conks out pretty quickly after the 8pm bottle, and is even willing to sleep in his crib at that point instead of wanting to be held as he sleeps. Last night was a bit odd because he'd slept so well in the car - but even that didn't deter him too much. And he was even a bit more alert after waking up again.

Me: See, you napped really well, and now you're awake. Let's take this lesson learned and apply it to daily life, and start taking naps like a good baby. Which you are, but still, Mommy would like to have time to wash the dishes during the day. Clean dishes means clean bottles for additional feedings. Yum!
Bill: I don't think Andrew responds to reason yet.
Me: Daddy has no faith in your ability to follow a logical line of thought, Andrew. I say you retaliate by spitting up on him.

Speaking of which, Bill wants to take Andrew to Vegas. Last week, Bill wore a Duke shirt while Andrew wore a Tarheels bib. Andrew spit up on both. That night, both teams lost. A few days later, Andrew did not spit up on the Tarheels shirt Bill wore. That night, the Tarheels won. (This did not work with the Vikings on Sunday, but Bill cheated by putting several layers of clothing over his Vikings shirt in an effort to trick Andrew, who tried to spit up on the Viking shirt but was unable to get through the five thousand shirts.)

For those interested, Andrew has already spit up on both his Brewers bib and his Red Sox bib. This will be a long baseball season for our household. *sigh*

Meant to mention this yesterday, but today will suffice. The Long Way Home, my reaction fic to CoE, was nominated at the Children of Time Awards. Much thanks to whoever nominated it, it was a very nice surprise!

Title: Water Music
Author: azriona
Characters: The Doctor, River Song
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Big ones for Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead. Takes place prior to Water of Mars.
Betas: runriggers

Summary: The Doctor never expects to meet anyone in a linear fashion. How he meets River Song is slightly more non-lineal than most.

A/N: And....done. Thank you for sticking with me.


Chapters One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight ~ Nine ~ Ten ~ Eleven ~ Twelve ~ Thirteen ~ Fourteen ~ Fifteen ~ Sixteen ~ Seventeen

( Epilogue )

Oh, before I forget -

Barnes & Noble is doing their Buy-2-Get-Third-Free thing, and a lot of the Classic Who DVDs are included. (The new specials, however, are not, but some of the new seasons are.) They did this once before that I saw, over the summer, and I know not many of you are Classic Who aficionados, but figure some of you might know those who are.

Also, Andrew smiled at me this morning. Twice. And it was not gas. It was way awesome.

( Behold the cuteness! Not a smiling cuteness, but cuteness all the same. )

1. A month ago, Andrew refused to sleep anywhere but his swing. Now he refuses to sleep in the swing at all - he's in there now, but it's under protest, and every so often he lets out a deep sigh, as though he's merely humouring me and given the slightest reason, may politely (or not-so-politely) request to be removed from it. (You know, like Bill getting out of the shower. Or me looking at him.)

He's also refusing to take a daytime nap unless we're holding him. While this is seriously cute - there's nothing as sweet as a baby asleep in your arms, unless it's on your chest - it's kind of aggravating when there are other things you need to be doing around the house, like cleaning baby bottles because every bottle in the house is caked in dried formula. There is no use explaining this to Andrew. He just tells you to buy more bottles.

2. I have gone through Andrew's closet. He has clothes enough to never wear the same thing twice. (He also has two - not one, but two - sweater vests. They are majorly cute. I'm thinking I need baby-sized horn-rimmed glasses to put on him when he wears them. And possibly baby pocket protectors.

3. Andrew likes music. We're fairly sure of this, because every time we play music, he cranes his head to look at it. He couldn't care less about his rattles, but you put Beyonce on the radio, and he starts groovin'. (Actually, the station I listen to started playing a Janet Jackson song from the early 1990s this morning - or maybe it was Paula Abdul, I seriously can't remember. The "If you were my lover, the things I'd do to you" song, if anyone remembers that one. Andrew didn't like it any better or worse, but I was highly amused.)

4. Things I have memorized: I have now committed to memory the book Hippos Go Berserk by Sandra Boynton, the song I'm Just a Little Black Rain Cloud by whoever wrote the Winne the Pooh songs for Disney, and I have memorized approximately 65% of Make Way for Ducklings, which is one of the two books to which Andrew will fall asleep. (The other is Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone. I don't know what this means for later books in the series.) I know I've got Ducklings memorized because I couldn't reach it yesterday, so I ended up just telling the story, and not only did I remember all the names of the ducklings (Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack, and yes I did that without looking) but I'm pretty sure I had whole entire sections verbatim. Give me another month and I'll have the whole thing 100% by heart, I'm sure.

5. It does not matter how much Andrew has to eat, if he is aggitated or annoyed, he will spit up. I'm pretty sure he does this as a way of getting attention. "You won't do what I want? OH YEAH???? Well, CLEAN THIS!!!!" He had two ounces at 8am (he didn't want the full three), and spit up an hour later when I stopped singing Rain Cloud after the twentieth rendition. He had three ounces at 10.30 (early, because he was in a screaming fit after refusing to go down for a morning nap) and he spit up just now because he's in his swing and I'm typing a journal entry.

I also think it has to do with his pacifier, if that makes sense. If he has his pacifier, he's happy, and does not spit up. (Or maybe the pacifier gets him to swallow it back down? Ugh, does not bear thinking about.) If he does not have his pacifier, we are treated to a waterfall of formula.

6. I accidentally dressed to match the baby today. Red long-sleeved shirts, brown/black pants. I have no excuse. Bill has not noticed yet. I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

Incidentally, I went through my closet and pulled out all the work clothes which I've grown out of or were just a bit too worn for wear, but I've been pulling through because I didn't want to buy new, knowing that at some point, there would be Andrew. It was strangely cathartic to realize I don't have to wear them again - but all the same, my last day at work back in early December (December 7, as it turns out - the Day of Infamy has a whole new meaning for me now) seems like much longer than the eight weeks it really is. Or seven. Or whatever it is, I've lost track. I measure my life in three-hour increments now. Maybe someday, it'll be four. Ooo.

7. This post did not mention poop. Hurrah!

(Picture later today.)

I was going to make an extremely pithy post about clothes and schedules and rain and stuff, but then Andrew woke up. Very sorry.

Argh.

Woke up at 3.20 to hear Andrew screaming. Bill apparently had been trying to get him back to sleep since around 2am. Mommy to the rescue - in twenty minutes, I had him swaddled and sleeping, and he slept straight through to 6am. He should have had his next bottle at 5, honestly, but I woke briefly at 5, looked at the clock, thought, "Need to feed the baby", and promptly rolled back over and went to sleep. At six he was doing the "I'm About To Wake Up" whimper, so I fed him then.

And then I put him back to bed and frosted the carrot cake I baked last night. The cream cheese frosting is a bit lumpy, but it tastes way yummy and not horrifically sweet, and I found the container of whipped cream cheese that my parents bought and used maybe one tablespoon of in the back of the fridge, so I tossed most of that in with the block of cream cheese I bought this week. Extra cream cheese for your money, I figure, and I'm unlikely to use it anywhere else. And good thing, too, I had just enough frosting for the cake, with a little left over to lick off the spatula.

('Cause what's the point of making your own frosting if you can't lick the bowl? Seriously. And I'm generally crap at frosting - I grew up on the stuff in the can, and I just like it better - but cream cheese frosting isn't too hard.)

So there's me being productive before the sun was even up.

The social worker visit yesterday went very well. Andrew slept through most of it, so he never had a chance to complain about the service. Our paperwork's turned in, we're going to have another visit in March, and the goal is to have everything all done by the fall or thereabouts. We're finalizing in Maryland, which apparently involves a court date, but from what I understand, the court date is actually kind of fun, because the courts pile all the adoption hearings on one day and turn the place into a big party. (I have heard rumors about clowns and such.)

This afternoon, Andrew, Bill, the cake, and I will be heading off to Aunt Do's. Tomorrow I'm dragging Bill to Babies R Us, because I want to see his eyes pop out of their sockets, and I have coupons which expire next weekend. Also, it gives us an excuse to go to the really yummy Thai restaurant nearby. (It's a very unfortunate name, but they have shrimp fried garlic, and how can you possibly go wrong with a dish where you describe how you cook the garlic as opposed to how you cook the shrimp?)

( Extreme Cuteness Under the Cut )

I was having such a good dream. I don't remember all the details, but it was a bit like watching this excellent TV show, and I was at the part where random people are taken aside and make pithy comments to the camera, and I was enjoying myself hugely and the comments were just hysterical.

And then someone was taken aside, and asked a question, and opened their mouth, and all that came out was: "Wahhhhh!"

Weird, thought I. And fast-forwarded to the next person. Who also said, "Wahhhh!"

It took a third person saying "Waaah" before I realized that I was hearing Andrew wake up for his 5am bottle.

"Kid," I told him, after prepping the bottle, "you interupted a really good dream there."

Now, of course, he's telling me he's awake and does not wish to be in his crib anymore, darn it. And the cat is likewise telling me she would like attention - I know this because when I came back to the computer from popping Andrew's lost pacifier back in his mouth, I heard a strange waterfall-type sound on the desk.

It was my water glass. Knocked over. With the contents pouring down the back of the desk right onto the power cords. Cleo was sitting next to it, with a "Who me?" expression on her not-so-innocent face.

Argh.

( In conclusion, I give you a photo. )

Incidentally, rubber bands kept the canister on the vacuum, but now it's refusing to pick anything up. *sigh*