Thunderstorms, oh my!

It's fitting that my daughter sleeps through storms (I once slept through an entire ambulance crew trekking through the bungalow I grew up in).

We have had some major ones this past week and Abby has slept through them with flying colors. Luke, on the other hand (or the other paw?), has not.

In fact, it got so bad one night, that Tom came downstairs to lay with Luke on the couch. I love the fact that this happened because Tom likes to pretend he doesn't like the kitties. Well, you don't leave your bed to comfort a cat if you don't like said cat.

The best part about this is that Leia is a total bad-ass. I walked out of our bedroom one night and Leia was just lounging on the cat tree as the thunder boomed. Then I made it downstairs and Luke was approximately 1 cm off the ground, clinging to my leg as if his life depended on it.

Hoping the weather is calmer this week. Our sleep depends on it.

My kid pooped in the bathtub

Yep. I was hoping we'd avoid it. But it happened.

I could tell she was going for it, but hoped she would ultimately recognize the bath tub was NOT a place for pooping. I figure most kids her age have that kind of reason. Right?

Well, she didn't.

She acted like she was going, but all we got were bubbles. Okay. I figure that was it. Just a scare.

After she did it again, I decided I needed to finish the bath and get this kid in a diaper. I lifted her to wash her hair when I saw it.

Unfortunately for Daddy, he cleaned the tub. Such a wonderful guy to take the sh!tty job. Get it?

This will make the baby book.

My cat has separation anxiety

Really, Leia?

In the midst of sleep training Abby, our cat seems to have separation anxiety.

Abby fell asleep around 8:30 (it took us an hour and a half to get her down), and didn't wake up to eat until 5:00!

Only problem?

Leia woke us up knocking on our door at 4:00 a.m.

::bang, bang, bang::

"Meeew?"

No idea what to do at this point. She's been super clingy lately. I felt like an idiot laying some of my t-shirts outside our door thinking she would feel "closer to me." I don't think it worked.

Are there sleep training books for cats?

The Closer

Apparently, Tom is the Todd Jones to my Jeff Weaver. The Mariano Rivera to my Andy Petite. The Dennis Eckersley to my Bob Welch.

Yes ... he's 'The Closer.'

Tonight was the second in our quest to sleep train Miss Abigail. Tom was out to dinner with friends, so I had the dinner/bedtime routine duty.

After dinner, Abby and I played on the floor for about 15 minutes. Well ... she tried to touch everything in the room, and I perfected my phrase, "Uh uh, no touch."

We then had bath time (she pulled an entire bucket of foam letters into the tub ... it was awesome) and story time. I read her "That's Not My Kitten" (I truly don't understand that book. What is the concept in stating that every trait that every cat has makes it "not my kitten"? What exactly does your kitten look and feel like then? I throw it on the pile with "Goodnight Moon". Sorry.), "Little Hands Love" and "Things That Go" (a book about all things vehicular from her cousin Leo ... she LOVES the book).

Then it was time for Abby to eat and go to bed. With eating finished, we read one more story and then I put her in her crib with her puppy (a stuffed puppy) and her Violet. I turned on the nighttime music and left the room.

Let the screaming begin.

I cleaned up after her bath and then returned to her room only to find her straddling the side with her legs through the bars looking as though she were in prison. I laid her back down, said goodnight and left the room.

More screaming.

I began loading the dishwasher and then returned to her room to find her in a similar position. Laid her back down, goodnight, left room.

Screaming.

Cleaned the kitchen some more and went back up. This time she was standing on the edge of the crib looking at me with these huge weepy eyes that made me want to take a long walk off a short pier. I laid her back down, said goodnight and left the room.

The child was thisclose from falling asleep. Her eyes would droop and she would get ready to roll over into her regular sleeping position, but then grew none too pleased when I left the room.

As I was finishing the cleaning preparing for my next visit to her room, the garage door opened to signal Tom's arrival.

He walked into the kitchen and asked for the bedtime routine protocol ("I can't rub her belly? Not even for 30 seconds?") and ventured up.

I heard the door open, heard him tell her goodnight and heard the screaming get worse.

A minute later he reappeared in the kitchen and we began making small talk. All of a sudden ... it was quiet.

It only took 30 minutes for Abby to fall asleep on "her own" but it took Daddy's magic touch to close it out.

I'm not jealous.

I'm not.

Seriously.

Apparently I can suck it

In response to yesterday's post, my husband says he is "pulling a Degeneration X" and telling me to (good-naturedly) suck it for doubting his stamina during last night's sleep training session.

He was, in fact, present at nearly every crying episode and stood strong despite Abby's best efforts at waking up the entire city of Ann Arbor.

We shall see how we fare tonight, though. Apparently Night 2 is when babies reach deep into their pockets to pull out all their tricks.

What WWE wrestler will Tom be quoting tomorrow?

Oh, so this is a problem?

Abby went to her nine-month well-baby appointment today. Turns out, we have been unknowingly harboring bad sleep patterns. Granted, I could have told you that, but I have been in denial (it's not just a river in Egypt).

The end-result of the appointment is that we have to sleep train. That includes putting Abby to bed awake, regulating naps, not nursing her to sleep and limiting her eating at night.

Helping that along will be me not going in to soothe her at night considering I'm the primary food source.

Who does that leave to get up at night, you ask?

Well, I suggested it to Luke and Leia, but they weren't up for it. They figured there could be a logistical problem since Abby outweighs them. (Abby actually doesn't outweigh Leia, but I didn't want to tell her that and make her feel bad).

That only leaves ... Tom.

The look of pure terror on his face when I mentioned it would be best for him to attend to Abby tonight was amusing. I could just see the sentence forming in his head.

"What do you mean ... I have to go to work tomorrow!"

I should mention that Tom has always been 100-percent willing to get up when needed. I just haven't minded getting up. For that, he has been 100-percent thankful.

Now that we have to make this change, I think the fact that Tom doesn't have a love affair with coffee as I do (the man has never tasted coffee ... WTF?) will come back to bite him in the arse.

I'm thinking Tom is going to be cheering harder than me for this sleep training thing to work ASAP. I have faith in our girl -- she fell asleep by herself tonight!

But the wee morning hours loom. Will Tom need to get up with her? Will he be sleep deprived tomorrow?

To be continued ...

I've Been Mommy-fied

Before having a child, I never in a million years thought I would be a nursing mother. The thought of it always made me uncomfortable.

Whenever anyone would talk about nursing, I would automatically default to, "I'm just going to bottle-feed. I just don't think nursing is for me."

Then a few friends talked about the benefits with me while I was pregnant and I decided to give it a shot "for the first six weeks." Even when talking about it, I would turn up my nose and say, "I'm going to give it a try."

Fast forward nine months and I am still a nursing mother. My child has not had formula since day two of her life. And I am in no hurry to wean.

Perhaps it is my insensitive personality that shocks people when they realize I am still nursing.

"Wow, really?"

Yes, really. I am still nursing. And my brain has shifted so much that I now judge the person I used to be.

I twitch when people make offhanded remarks about nursing "older" children (older as in a year) before they realize I am still nursing my kid. People who make statements like, "When they're old enough to ask for it, they're too old."

Not really. My child is approaching the age when she can ask for things and I don't think she is too old.

I am currently struggling with the fact that I am in no hurry to wean my child ... because, pre-baby, I would have judged myself. I would have turned my nose up at the thought of nursing a toddler. With Abby showing signs of toddling, I am approaching that status.

What is a (nursing) mother to do?

I suppose I should wait until I feel good and ready, but right now the thought of nursing her for the last time is enough to get me misty-eyed.

For now, I suppose I'll just continue to enjoy the bonding with my child, the caloric benefits (I can pretty much eat like a person from those hot dog competitions) and the ... ahem ... figure.

Abby's First Monsoon ... er ... Baseball Game

Tonight marked the annual Tiger game in honor of Uncle Jack and it was to be Abby's first (unless you count her being in my belly last year).

There were so many things working in our favor when it came to bringing an infant to the ballpark (please detect my sarcasm), most notably being the 97-degree game-time temperature.

Abby was not a happy camper. She hadn't napped much during the day, but managed to fall into a deep sleep approximately 5-7 minutes before we arrived at the park. We managed to move her from the car seat to the stroller without waking her, but she got up when Grandpa and Grandma took her into the Guest Services office (to visit some friends) ... at that point, dazed-and-confused mode began.

This was Abby's expression for the next two hours:

Abby = Peppy

While this is a great photo (and Abby's pigtails are to die for), she pretty much had this blank, WTF stare on her face for the duration of the ballpark experience.

She did not enjoy our seats in the 200 level, but Grandpa was able to use his awesome connections (they were much appreciated) to move us to the lower level where there was a nice breeze.

Our new seats! (Abby = Peppy on the Inside)

Though she pepped up, you can see she continued to refuse smiling for the camera.

We were just settling in to the awesome 6-0 game (Tigers not winning) when the sky began to turn gray and claps of thunder could be heard. We were preparing to make a run for it when a huge gust of wind blew a plastic hot dog cover (I was in front of a vendor) onto my head.

Don't worry, my mama bear instincts came out and I protected the baby.

It was then that the monsoon began. We rushed into the Guest Services office, but there didn't seem to be an end in sight. After waiting for about 30 minutes, we saw a semi-break in the rain and made a run for it.

Let me inform everyone that it was still raining steadily ... we ended up drenched. I had strapped Abby in the Ergo and covered her head with the cover and Tom's hat, but she insisted on pushing herself away from me to stick her tongue out into the rain.

Abby = happy to be in the car with her puppy and Violet

We got back to the car (soaking wet) and made our way back home. Tom bravely drove us through massive amounts of rain and wind and Abby was smiley and peppy the entire time.

I thought she would be awake when we pulled in, but she seemed to detect we got off the highway and abruptly fell asleep just to make things interesting. We got home and I laid her on the floor to change her and she immediately rolled onto her side to fall asleep (I did manage to change her and put her in PJs).

While our family braved it out and is still at the ballpark, they are unfortunately witnessing an awesome (more sarcasm) 10-0 Tiger deficit.

This story is definitely making the baby book ... Abby's three-inning, 6-0 deficit, monsoon, 97-degree baseball game. At least she got a certificate!