The Apple and the Tree

“The apple doesn’t fall from the tree.” In other words, “You will inevitably turn into your parents.”

The munchkin has certainly exemplified this statement. He is just like his daddy already, in lots of ways. They both sneak snacks before dinner. They both like to be outside. They both dislike eating vegetables.

A few weeks ago we found out one more way the munchkin is like his daddy: he talks in his sleep. We were traveling, and the munchkin had missed his nap. When we finally got settled in the rental car, he fell asleep almost immediately. About 20 minutes down the road, we heard him thrashing around. Then he started babbling, too. However, he was still asleep. The munchkin was talking in his sleep. He kept it up for a few minutes, then finally went back to resting quietly.

Pics or it didn't happen.

Pics or it didn’t happen.

Talking away, complete with gestures.

Talking away, complete with gestures.

The munchkin has not talked in his sleep since then, so I think it was a one time thing because he was so tired.

The munchkin is not the only one who has talked in his sleep recently: the hubs has been talking too. Most recently, I woke up to him propped up on his elbow, mumbling.

Me: Hmm, you ok?

Hubs: It’s just everyone is panicking!

Me: What? Is everything ok?

Hubs: No! It’s just a mess, and they’re really upset.

Me: Really, who is?

Hubs: Yeah, it’s awful.

Me: Ok. Who is it?

Hubs: I mean, real panic.

Me: Oh, alright. Can I do anything?

Hubs: No, I don’t think so.

Me: Ok. I’m going back to sleep then, you should too.

Hubs: Yeah…maybe.

Then he did not say anything else. I’m not sure what was so upsetting in the hubs’ dreams, but I know it was not the fact that the munchkin is just like him. Even when asleep, the hubs loves that the munchkin is a lot like him, and I like it, too.

Not Helping

We all do it – try to make a situation better, but actually make it worse. And then the inevitable happens, whoever we are trying to help rolls their eyes and says, “Not helping!” I know I have used that phrase before too. I used it just today when the dog tried to help me put the munchkin down for a nap, but ended up getting herself stuck in the nursery and barked, waking up the munchkin. “Not, helping dog. Not. Helping.”

Sometimes I’m the one who’s very unhelpful, making life difficult for myself. When I take the munchkin to the grocery store, I tend to narrate our shopping trip, to try to build the munchkin’s vocabulary and social skills, saying things like, “Time to get some milk! Milk is white,” and other things like that. So this past week we were at the store, walking past a large display of backyard barbecue foods, and the bottom row was being stocked by a younger gentleman employee of the store.

As we walked by I continued my narration of the shopping trip for the munchkin, “Wow! Look at those BUNS!”

This made the hard working store employee jump, and look up with concern. I realized how this must have sounded to him, and tried to correct my mistake by loudly adding to the munchkin, “For eating! Hamburgers on! Brown buns! AHH, let’s go get toothpaste!”

Not helping, self. Not. Helping. Then I hustled away toward the toiletry aisle, cheeks burning, pride in smithereens on the tile floor. I am my own worst enemy.

Sometimes, albeit rarely, the hubs is the one who is unhelpful. Several weeks ago the munchkin got sick, and was getting up in the night, inconsolable. On one of these sick nights, I went to get him when he cried in the early hours of the morning and came back to the bedroom where I was bouncing him.

Hubs: Oh, he’s up?

Me: Yes, he just doesn’t feel very good.

Hubs: How about I get up and make a bottle for him?

Me: That would be really helpful, thanks.

But the hubs didn’t move, but just laid quietly, while I continued to bounce the baby.

Me: Buddy? Are you going to go make the bottle?

Silence.

Me: Hey! You aren’t asleep! Aren’t you going to get up?

Nothing.

Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?

Not helping, hubs. Not. Helping.

By this time, however, the munchkin had fallen back to sleep being bounced, not actually that hungry after all. So, I maneuvered him back into his crib, where he slept until morning. In the morning when I confronted the hubs about promising to make a bottle and then not actually getting out of bed, he had no idea what I was talking about. He had been asleep for the whole conversation, and was not even aware that the munchkin had been up in the night.

When it comes to my life, sometimes sleep talking is just not helping.

 

There’s No Place Like Home

Well, we’re back to the blogosphere. Spring has come, the snow has melted, polar vortexes are a distant memory, and I have dug myself out from under a pile of moving boxes, curriculum development documents, and thesis research to resurrect the blog. Much has happened since last fall when I last posted. First, we moved into a house! A real house, with a garage, and a bedroom just for the munchkin, and more than one toilet, and it is wonderful.

Here we are at the new house shortly after moving in. If you haven't moved in the snow, you should try it.

Here we are at the new house shortly after moving in. If you haven’t moved in the snow, you should try it.

Second, the munchkin is doing well, and has grown considerably and walks and talks and does all sorts of things. However, as far as I know he has not yet taken after the hubs’ habit of sleep talking. Third, I graduated and have decided to never go back to school again…for now. Fourth, the dog remains exactly the same as always. It is nice to know that no matter what exciting changes go on in our lives, she stays a constant, just interested in sleeping in the sun.

The other constant in my life amidst the many changes is the hubs’ sleep talking. My little notebook is brimming with tales of his sleep talking, and I am happy to be back to blogging about them. However, I think the hubs’ sleep talking can wait one more week, and this week I should share my own sleep talking episode from a few days ago.

This is apparently how it went down, in the middle of the night:

Me: Really?….Oh, I see.

Hubs: Hmm? What’s up?

Me: No way!

Hubs: Honey? Are you asleep?

Me: THAT’S CRAZY!

And at this point I was yelling. And I yelled so loudly that I actually woke myself up. The hubs was kind enough to tell me I had been talking in my sleep and that I should roll over and just be quiet the rest of the night. As far as I know, that’s exactly what I did.

I’m thinking this was a one time thing, though, and from now on I will have only stories of the hubs’ sleep talking. I hope so, at least – everything else has been changing, it would be a shame to change who is the sleep talker in the family!

Strike Four, You’re Out!

I have many fine qualities, but natural athletic ability is not chief among them. Actually, it is not really among them at all. When God was gifting me, athletic ability was left standing on the wall like a loser while various other things were chosen… much like I was left standing on the wall when my peers chose teams for softball in gym class. I am just not skilled. I was so bad that in gym class the teacher used to feel bad and “miscount” strikes when we played softball and give me four chances to swing. I was so bad that the kids didn’t even bother to move in, because the odds of me connecting ball and bat were practically zero. I was so bad that the pitcher (who I had a crush on) used to scoot way up and just sort of loft the ball at me, encouraging me to hit it. And I really haven’t gotten much better in the decade and a half since then.

My lack of athletic ability (and obvious emotional scars from softball failures) does not mean that I do not like to play with balls with the dog and the munchkin.

photo(9)

The munchkin loves balls so much that I made his play pen into a ball-pit. It’s awesome. I’m not sure who loves it more, him or me.

The dog prefers tennis balls. She keeps a secret stash of them behind the television cabinet.

The dog prefers tennis balls. She keeps a secret stash of them behind the television cabinet.

Unlike me, the hubs is good at sports. Right now he is on a golf kick, and he’s out swinging the club constantly. I think that getting out for a few holes must have been on his mind last night. I was sleeping soundly when I jumped awake because the hubs sat up and smacked my shoulder.

Me: What?!? What’s wrong?!?

Hubs: What on earth!?! Don’t you know about the foursome?

Me: Umm, no…

Hubs: Yeah, well I’m not playing without it, and you’re just… it’s just…

Me: What are you talking about?

Hubs: Oh, you don’t even know, do you! We need a foursome for nine holes.

Me: That’s fine, Buddy. Let’s not worry about it.

Hubs: You know what you are? An embarrassment. Yep, this is just horrible.

Surprisingly, I was not offended, because, when it comes to sports, this is nothing I didn’t already know…that, and I’m doing better at not getting upset when the hubs sleep talks

Me: Ok, I’m going back to sleep.

Hubs: Well, it’s just… I mean, GAH!

And then he threw his hands up in exasperation, sank back down, and did not say anything else.

Poor, asleep hubs. Thankfully, when he’s awake he normally has a foursome willing to play and can golf to his heart’s content. Now if only we could round up enough players for some friendly softball – I get four strikes, right?

Pass the Coffee

As you might have noticed, the blogging has been sporadic. Actually, to be more accurate, the blogging has been non-existent. I fully, and freely admit that it is not my fault – I blame the munchkin. Having a baby has been like having all of the responsibilities you had before the baby, and then adding in an incredibly needy cat to the mix. Not a whole lot of time for blogging…or sleeping.

photo(5)photo(1) photo(3)photo(4)photo photo(2)¬† Yesterday was the munchkin’s half birthday. I have been a parent for 6 whole months. Even after 6 months, I still have no idea what I’m doing. However I have learned one thing about parenting: if you aren’t tired, you’re probably doing it wrong.

House of Horrors

The munchkin loves to hold his Lamb Chop plush toy while being changed. I think it is because it is so soft, and has bright red hands and feet. He holds it and sucks on her ear while I change him. He was doing just that this afternoon, babbling away happily. I finished snapping his onesie and picked up Lamb Chop off of him, to make her dance on his tummy.

That was when I saw it. Sticking out of the munchkin’s mouth, covered in baby drool, was a big, fat, brown wooly caterpillar!

I screamed, grabbed it, and flung it on the floor. I tossed a nearby clean diaper over it and started smashing it as hard as I could. The munchkin thought this was pretty funny, but was not amused when I started washing out his mouth with a soft washcloth. I just could not imagine how a caterpillar had gotten into the munchkin’s mouth! We had gone to the park for lunch, but I had watched him the whole time!

After all of the commotion, I put the clean-mouthed baby on the floor to play while I examined the horrible bug. Would you believe it, when I took off the diaper covering the caterpillar, it wasn’t a caterpillar at all. It was Lamb Chop’s luscious eyelashes! Apparently the munchkin had sucked them right off her face!

Thankfully, they were still in one piece, so it was an easy job to sew them back on to her forehead. I wouldn’t want the munchkin’s favorite stuffed animal to be without her eyelashes, even if they did about give me a heart attack!

It's ok, munchkin. I still love "ewe"!

It’s ok, munchkin. I still love “ewe”!

The hubs had quite a scare today, too. Apparently in the early hours of the morning this morning, the hubs woke up when I sat on his legs and started talking to him.

Hubs: Hon, what are you doing?

Me (searching around the bed): Where’s the baby? I can’t find the baby!

Hubs: What?!? Did you bring him back after feeding him?

Then the hubs heard a rustle on the baby monitor, and realized that the munchkin was still in his crib.

Hubs: Hon, the baby’s still in bed.

Me: Oh.

Then, according to the hubs, I climbed over to my side of the bed and hurled myself down.

Hubs: Wow, you really scared me there. Did you have a bad dream, Babe?

Silence.

Hubs: Babe? You still awake?

This morning, I had no idea what he was talking about when he mentioned my frantic search in the night for the munchkin. I am glad that both of us got our scary situations straightened out, and they weren’t near as bad as they seemed at first!

Cliff Hanger

I drive quite a distance to get to work and wile away the hours listening to books on CD that I get from the library. My favorite to listen to are mysteries. The librarians probably wondered over my eclectic checkout bag this morning: murder mysteries and the acclaimed Baby Learns Numbers with Elmo.

A few weeks ago I was listening to a murder mystery as I made the long trek to work. We were on the last disk, and I thought I knew who murdered the dashing young poet. Then, the hotel burned down and the character I thought was the killer died in the fire! I was thinking, “Oh man, plot twist!”

photo-16 (2)

Wow, what a nail biter!

Then the nice sounding British man reading the book on CD said, “Qwill wondered if Jamison really had been the murderer. Now he would never know for sure. (dramatic music) This concludes the reading of the book. All rights reserved.”

And then the disk ended! That was it! Who knows who the murderer was? I don’t! Good grief, talk about a cliff hanger…forever… For crying out loud.

Sometimes the hubs leaves me without all of the answers when he talks in his sleep, too. For example, a week and a half ago I was laying in bed making a mental grocery list when the hubs started talking in his sleep.

Hubs: Nah, that can’t be.

Me: Hmmm, what is it buddy?

Hubs: Just not right.

Me: Yeah, what isn’t right?

Hubs: What? No, not for you.

Me: Oh? What’s not for me?… Hubs? Why can’t I know?

But he did not say anything else.

I am not sure what wasn’t right, and I suppose I will never know. Life is filled with cliff hangers!

Tardy to the Party

So, as you can tell from the lack of posts the last few weeks, I have had a hard time getting the blog done every week. Don’t worry, it’s not that I don’t want to blog. It’s just that now that the munchkin is here, I seem to be late significantly more. And every time, I have to tell whoever I have kept waiting, “I am so sorry, something came up!”

And I cannot even elaborate, because the “something that came up” is normally something disgusting. It probably required both the munchkin and me to change our clothes. It is not something that I just discuss with people, especially people who are waiting on me.

march 13 1

I have a surprise for you! It’s poop.

However, never fear: the hubs is still talking in his sleep! The past week the hubs has been talking in his sleep quite a bit. I have been staying up REALLY late to work on final term papers, so by the time I am stumbling to bed it is just a few hours before he is up to go to work. The downside is that I am just ridiculously tired. The upside is that I have heard the hubs talking quite a bit.

The other night I climbed into bed and the hubs sat up and grabbed my hand.

Hubs: You alright? Coming to bed?

This sounded like perhaps he was awake.

Me: Yes, just finished for the night. I’m so tired.

Hubs: You need to go back to the past.

Me (feeling kind of disappointed): Oh… so you’re asleep.

Hubs: Nope, not asleep. Just know that you need to do something to go back to the past. We need to get back to the past.

Me: Ok, that’s fine. Love you.

Hubs: Yeah, just make sure you’re in the past.

Me: Ok, will do.

Hubs: Good, good. Sounds good. Don’t worry, we’ll be ok in the past.

Me: Alright.

Then he did not say anything else. Perhaps when he was talking about the past he was thinking about our life pre-munchkin. Back when I was on time to things, and didn’t have to censor my explanations when we are late. I kind of doubt it, though. The hubs is so happy to have the munchkin in our lives, there’s no way he would want to rewind a few months to when we didn’t have him with us. I suppose being late to things is an ok trade off.

Elusive Dreams

The munchkin has interrupted our sleep schedules. All of us seem to be sleeping at different times than we use to. photo-19

And in different places, too. photo-13 (2)

Sometimes we even have to share our pillow.photo-14 (2)That is ok, though. Having the munchkin here is worth changing up the sleep schedule.

This past week I walked into the bedroom after changing the munchkin. The hubs suddenly sat up.

Hubs: Everything alright?

Me: Yes, I was just changing him.

Hubs: Ok, I see. Are you going to bed now?

Me: Yes.

He was sounding a little funny, so I was not sure if he was awake or not.

Me: Are you really awake?

Hubs: I… I’m not sure exactly. I don’t think so.

Me: Oh, ok. Probably not then. Why don’t you lay back down?

Hubs: Yeah, probably should.

Then he lay back down and did not say anything else. I asked him about it later and he had no idea what I was talking about – he was definitely asleep the whole time.

At least some things will never change, even with the munchkin being here – no matter how little sleep he gets the hubs will still talk through it!

Confessions

People frequently ask me if the hubs ever confesses things in his sleep. Or if I try to ask him questions to find out the truth while he is sleeping. The answer is “no.” To both questions. If the hubs has something to tell me, he does. And if I wanted to know the truth I simply have to ask him while we are both awake.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

Isn’t it interesting that so many people think that I should utilize the hubs’ sleep talking to find out his secrets? I suppose we all want to know things about other people, to know their secrets, and to confess our own. One well timed question and anyone will share their secrets. In fact, I have some things to confess right now:

My least favorite chore is mopping. It always has been. Therefore, I do not own a mop. I clean my floors by other means, just never mopping.

I still, in my deepest heart, think that the three kings in “We Three Kings” are from a place called “Orientare.”

I sing Cindy Lauper songs to the munchkin. A lot. His favorite is “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

It bothers me a lot when people say “alot.” It is two words. If you type it as one word, I judge you a lot.

I always said that I would never talk to my child in “baby talk,” because I thought that it would stunt their verbal skills. I talk to the munchkin in baby talk all day long. I talk so much like a baby that I now talk to the dog like a baby. The other day I answered the phone with baby talk. It’s getting a little out of control.

When I walk the dog in the evening and a dog a street or two over starts barking, I let our dog bark back for awhile. I do this just in case the Twilight Bark is a real thing, and she is helping to save some lost puppies.

I also must confess that I occasionally sleep talk. In fact, according to the hubs, I talked in my sleep this past week. He said I mumbled, “Slerfenskots frozen people…”

And he said, “What, hon?”

“Slerfenskots frozen peopsernf.”

I have no idea what I was talking about, but the hubs has confessed that it was quite funny to have the sleep-talking tables turned.