What Not To Wear, New Baby Edition

I used to love the television show, “What Not To Wear.” It was a show where they would give unsuspecting fashion challenged people a makeover. I thought the hosts of the show, Stacy and Clinton, were so cool, and so witty, and so stylish. Frequently when a guest was a mom and dressed in comfortable but not very stylish clothes, Stacy and Clinton would talk to them about their clothing choices, and say things like, “Having kids is no excuse. It doesn’t take any longer to put on pants with buttons than sweat pants.”

Or, “It’s just as much effort to pick out a cute blouse as a t-shirt, so go for the blouse! You have no excuse.”

And the moms would come away from their week of shopping in New York and look so chic, and so much better than when they left, and there was not an oversized t-shirt or yoga pant in sight.

At the time I always thought, “Stacy and Clinton are so right. It doesn’t take any longer to put on nice clothes. If I ever become a mom, I’m not going to dress in sweatpants all the time.”

Now ten years removed from watching the show and in a totally different life position, I discovered something. Stacy and Clinton have no idea what they are talking about.

As it turns out, those precious seconds it takes to button up actual pants, they matter. Do you know how much trouble a high energy 3 year old can get into in 6 seconds? Today I left the fully clothed munchkin in the living room, walked to the changing table with the baby, and looked out the window to see that the munchkin had walked out of the house and was running around the yard, naked. In 6 seconds he stripped naked and ran out of the house. This is why I like to wear pants that don’t require buttoning or a belt. Oh man, I don’t even want to think about how far he could get if I had to button my pants and buckle a belt!

In addition, when Stacy and Clinton sent these newly made-over ladies home with admonitions to steer clear of baggy cotton t-shirts, they weren’t considering the laundry situation. Baby is quite the spitter, and today has gone through 5 onesies, 2 bibs, and 2 tiny pairs of baby pants. I tend to be collateral damage to all this spitting, and am currently on my fourth shirt in 7 hours. Now, if I had been following Stacy and Clinton’s guidelines, the laundry situation would be quite complicated, with the buttons, delicate wash cycles, dry-clean-only tags, and lay-flat-to-dry directions. Thankfully, yoga pants and t-shirts have no special cleaning instructions, so I’m really not too perturbed at all the wardrobe changes I have to go through in a day. But it does mean Clinton and Stacy were very wrong: picking nice clothes does take more effort, especially if they get dirty every 45 minutes.

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Baby girl is such a sweetheart, I do not mind her messiness. Photo credit: Huisman Photography

The sleep talking hubs does not seem to mind the current state of my wardrobe. Actually, since we brought baby home the hubs has not been “the sleep talking hubs,” as he has not done much sleep talking. I think he is just too tired, and I am probably tired enough that even if he has talked I slept right through it. But last night he did talk some.

I was lying in bed when I felt the hubs jump in his sleep. As if he were gently scolding someone, he said, “No, no, no!”

I asked who he was talking to, and he said, “Oh, no one.”

I was so tired I let it go at that, and went back to sleep.

I am not sure what the hubs was saying, “No,” to, but I do know what I would say no to: anyone, even Clinton or Stacy, who tried to pry my comfiest yoga pants away from me.

Pants with elastic waistbands FOREVER!

Waiting Game

We are anxiously anticipating the arrival of munchkin-the-sequel in a few weeks. She is supposed to make her debut in 3 weeks, but the munchkin was a whole two weeks late when he finally decided to show up, so I am not holding my breath that 2.0 will be here anytime soon.

Apparently the fact that the munchkin arrived 2 weeks after his due date is a bit of a medical anomaly. At one of my first visits to the doctor during this pregnancy the nurse who was updating my chart said, “Did you really go 42 weeks with your first baby? That can’t be right.”

Nope, it was right.

At this same visit the doctor asked, “Wow, you went 42 weeks with your first. Do you plan to do that again?”

At a later visit a nurse commented, “Hmm, 42 weeks…we don’t see that very often. Did you do that on purpose?”

More recently a different nurse was looking at my chart and said, “It says here that your first pregnancy you went 42 weeks. Can you tell me why you chose to do that?”

They give me way too much credit: I was not aware that I had that much control on when the munchkin showed up!

For now, we are patiently waiting for baby to show up. The hubs talked about waiting in his sleep last week, but I don’t think he was waiting for our baby girl. I was just starting to fall asleep when the hubs sat up and crossed his arms.

Me: Are you ok?

Hubs: Yep, just waiting for Thomas.

Me: Oh, ok. Do you think he’ll be long?

Hubs: Don’t worry about it honey.

Me: Alright. I’m going back to sleep then.

Then I rolled back over and went back to sleep. I’m not sure how long the hubs sat up, but I hope that whoever he thought was coming didn’t keep him waiting for too long!

Planes, Trains, and Vehicles for the Elderly

Recently the munchkin and I flew down to see my parents for the holidays. The munchkin does very well on planes, especially now that he is old enough to have his own seat. On our second flight of the day he happened to be seated right next to a lady who was obviously very nervous about the flight. I tried to keep him busy and distracted and not bothering her, since flying was already obviously not something she enjoyed. The munchkin did a great job during the flight, and his seat-mate seemed to calm down and be less distressed about flying.

And then we began the descent. As the plane nose dropped the munchkin threw his little fists in the air and yelled, “WE’RE GOING DOWN!”

At this outburst the passenger next to us became very agitated and began making the sign of the cross on herself; I assume she was praying something along the lines of that if we were in fact to go down that an excited toddler who would not stop kicking the seat in front of him would not be the last thing she saw. I hope she is able to fly again.

Shortly before we left for this eventful trip the asleep hubs was apparently also concerned with transportation. The hubs had a cold so he had gone to bed early while I was still up reading. All of the sudden he jumped in his sleep and started talking.

Hubs: The older people need the vehicle…or should they not?

Me: Hmm? What do you mean?

Hubs: Well, it just doesn’t make any sense. It’s a vehicle for older people.

Me: Oh, really? That’s different.

Hubs: Yeah, just not a good idea.

Me: Yeah, can you tell me about it?

Hubs: It isn’t important, I don’t think I need to tell you. It’s about the elderly.

Me: You said that, but I’m curious about it.

Hubs: I don’t want to tell you about it. I already told you that.

Me: You can’t tell me anything?

Hubs: Stop asking about it. Please stop!

Me: Ok, that’s fine.

Then he huffed and rolled over angrily, never waking up. I was sorry to upset him in his sleep, but I also couldn’t help giggling about how silly the conversation was. I guess both of my boys have very serious transportation concerns!

Sleepless Nights

The munchkin has started waking up in the middle of the night and coming to get me…Every. Single. Night. I am trying to remember that this is a phase, and someday I will miss his little voice asking me if he can give me a “mama-pat-pat” on my cheek, but this is very difficult to remember at 4 am.

It’s made even more difficult by the fact that the hubs does not wake up when the munchkin comes in the room or calls for me. The other day after the munchkin got up twice in the night, the hubs said, “It’s so great that the munchkin hasn’t gotten up in the night for two nights in a row!”

A few nights ago I was settling back in bed from taking the munchkin back to his bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, yet again, when the hubs sat up and started to talk to me in his sleep.

Hubs: Hey! What’s wrong? Is something wrong?

Me: No, I’m fine.

Hubs: Well, you just keep moving around. You’ve kept me awake for 40 minutes!

Me: Oh, really? Well, I’m sorry about that. If it’s so bothersome, you can go sleep somewhere else.

Hubs: No, I don’t need to go sleep somewhere else.

Me: Well, ok then. Goodnight. Love you.

And then the hubs laid back down and didn’t say anything else. The hubs can sleep not only through the munchkin talking, but also himself talking. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I can’t sleep through either of them talking!

Sleep Talking Squabbles

The other night I had a very scary dream, and jolted awake – whimpering and heart thumping. I scooted closer to the hubs, and he drowsily turned over.

Hubs: You’re ok.

Now, I’m not sure why I reacted to this statement the way I did. Perhaps I was still scared from the dream, or perhaps I felt like he just wasn’t being empathetic enough, or maybe I’m just argumentative at 2 am. Regardless, I was not happy with this lackadaisical comforting from the hubs.

Me: You don’t know that! What if I’m not?

Hubs: What?

Me: What if I’m not ok? Maybe I’m not. You can’t know for sure. It’s just…rude!

Hubs: Hmm, yeah, maybe. It’s fine, though.

Me: That’s what you think!

Then I rolled back over and went back to sleep. (I’m really not a horrible person, I just felt very strongly at that moment. If I had been fully awake I hope I wouldn’t have reacted quite that way.)

The next morning as the hubs was getting ready for work I mentioned to him that I hated having scary dreams, like I had the night before.

Hubs: Yeah, well, you’re ok.

Me: Are you kidding me?!? That line didn’t work last night, and it isn’t going to work this morning either!

Hubs: What are you talking about?

Me: Last night. You know, you were not very comforting when I had that bad dream, and told me it was ok, so I told you it wasn’t ok, and to stop saying that! And you just did it again!

Hubs: Sweety, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t remember waking up or you having a dream, or anything. Maybe you were sleep talking.

Me: Maybe I was sleep talking?? No, no – maybe YOU were sleep talking!

Hubs: Yeah, probably.

Then he turned back to finish brushing his teeth, unperturbed that asleep-him had gotten me so riled up. And, much as I hate to admit it sometimes, that is one of the great things about the hubs: I know that he really will make it ok. Even though it’s a pain when he says so.

There is Only One Right Answer

Sometimes when the hubs and I are conversing, questions come up. Very serious questions, like, “Do you like buttermilk ranch dressing, or just plain ranch dressing?”

Or, “Do you think if we pretended to be narcoleptic around the munchkin for the next few years we could convince him that we just fall asleep randomly? And how could we use this to our advantage?”

Most of the time when I ask the hubs a question there is not just one right answer and I really care about the hubs’ opinion. Like, “Do you think the dog would like it if I got her a sunhat?” Or, “Do you see anything wrong with having cookies for breakfast if they have a fruit or vegetable like pumpkin in them?”

But some questions that I pose to the hubs have only one right answer. Like, “Is that really what you’re wearing to the party?” Or, “Do you want to pick up pizza for dinner?”

In fact, just last night I posed a question to the sleep-talking hubs that definitely only had one right answer. I don’t think I had been asleep for very long, when I woke up to the hubs talking.

Hubs: You can say “hi,” if you want to.

Me: Hmm? What’s up, buddy?

Hubs: You can.

Me: Oh? Well, hi!

Hubs: Hi, sweetie!

Me (wondering who he’s calling “sweetie” in his sleep): Now, who are you talking to?

Hubs: My beautiful wife, of course.

Me: That’s right.

Then we both went back to sleeping quietly, and the asleep hubs did not talk again for the rest of the night. He definitely had the right answer that time!

Worry Wort

I heard a saying once, that we don’t go to bed we just worry with our eyes closed. Most of the time I don’t feel that way and I can fall asleep pretty easily with minimal worrying. But sometimes it just feels like my brain won’t calm down, it just runs at full speed and takes forever to fall asleep. I get so frustrated when this happens, and it’s made worse by having the hubs fall asleep so quickly right next to me.

The other night I had fallen asleep fairly quickly, but the sleep-talking hubs apparently thought that I had fallen asleep too easily. It was shortly after midnight, I was sleeping happily, snoozing away, when the hubs started shaking my shoulder.

Me: Wha…? What’s wrong buddy?

Hubs: Goodnight, sweetie.

Me: Really? Are you being serious?

The hubs didn’t say anything else, and rolled over and went right on sleeping.

I’m going to be honest: I was kind of mad at the hubs. Thankfully, though, I fell back asleep quickly, with minimal worrying. What do I have to worry about anyway with the hubs there?

The Long Goodnight

Sometimes only a few words is all it takes to completely change a situation. Whether you are trying to diffuse a disagreement, tell someone how much you care, or get another driver’s attention, it just takes a few well chosen words.

One of the first words the munchkin could say clearly was, “help.” This word can definitely pack a punch in the right circumstances. For example, the munchkin whipped out this great word one time in the grocery store parking lot. I was trying to get the munchkin into his car seat, but he was disinclined to acquiesce. To show his displeasure he was holding himself as stiff as a board, and I was trying to get him to bend at the waist enough to get strapped in to his seat.

So, there we were in the grocery store parking lot, me karate-chopping the munchkin’s middle, and all of the sudden he throws his head out the window and lets out in his little voice, “Help! Help!” Those two words made a big difference. Where previously the scene had appeared innocuous enough, now I was frantically stuffing a fighting child into a van while he yelled, “Help!” in a little squeaky toddler voice. Thankfully I was able to get him safely strapped in before anyone thought I was abducting him.

Last week we had a situation where the hubs spoke just a few words in his sleep, but it changed my night completely. I woke up to the hubs sitting up and tapping me gently.

Me: Huh? What’s wrong?

Hubs: Goodnight, love.

Me: What do you mean? What’s going on?

Then the hubs rolled back over and went right on sleeping, never waking up. As he slept peacefully, I laid there staring at the ceiling, noticing how much I really need to dust the ceiling fan. The hubs can normally brighten my day with just a few words, but this time his two words made me miss out on a good night’s sleep!

Seat Lock

When I married the hubs, there was the normal blending of family traditions and idiosyncrasies. One thing his family does that I was not familiar with is “seat lock.” Seat lock is when a person leaves a place where they are sitting, if they yell, “seat lock,” then they get to sit there when they come back. If, say, they don’t know about seat lock because they’ve only been on three dates with a member of the family, they lose their comfortable spot on the couch and have to sit on the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t take me too long to figure out the rules, so I can now defend my comfy chair at family events.

Our little dog is the queen of “seat lock.” Mainly because she only has a few places she likes to sit, and she has made those places so covered with dog hair that no one would want to sit there unless armed with a jumbo lint roller.

The dog lounging in her favorite spot on the couch.

The dog lounging in her favorite spot on the couch.

I think it’s normal to be attached to a particular place, and claim it as your own. This last week I even talked to the hubs about this in my sleep. That’s right, I am the one sleep talking this time.

Apparently, the hubs woke up in the middle of the night to me yelling. He said that our conversation went like this:

Me: It’s my spot…. MY SPOTTTTT!!!!

Hubs: You’re ok, honey, just go back to sleep.

Me: You’re not listening to me. This is my spot!

Hubs: Yes, honey, you’re sleep talking. 

Me: It’s my spot, my spot, my spot!!!

I asked him what he did after all of this commotion, and he said, “I rolled over and went back to sleep as you continued to repeat ‘my spot,’ over and over…. There was no winning.”

Well, ok then. I guess he knew that I would definitely call “seat lock” on this spot that I apparently cared about so much!

Game Time

In our house, after the holiday season of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year comes the season of athletic competition. Bowl games, Super Bowl, and March Madness come in rapid succession. All are significant holidays in the hubs’ life. We kicked off the sports season yesterday by watching a nail-biter of a bowl game.

Perhaps all of this athletic competition might have been on the hubs’ mind when he was talking in his sleep last week. I was climbing back in bed from refilling my water cup when the hubs threw off his blankets suddenly.

Me: You all right?

Hubs: I don’t know.

Me: Ok, well is something wrong?

Hubs: Your team is screwing up my team.

Me: Oh? How am I doing that?

Hubs: Oh, I don’t know.

Me: Alright, well, go back to bed.

The hubs listened to me, and rolled over and was quiet for the rest of the night. I am not sure what team he was talking about, but I trust that he got it straightened out in the end. If not, though, he will have plenty more opportunities to dream about sports teams in the coming days. After all, ’tis the season!