I hab a code
Just blew my nose and suddenly it's very quiet in here. I can't even hear NJ's radio. Oh. There's the ringing, though, and the instrument compressors. Got that.
My brain is fine, by the way. A bit asymmetrical--there's a lump on the back right side--but nicely crinkly and grooved and looking just like the pictures in your favorite version of Gray's Anatomy. I have the coloring book, how about you?
So the scary causes for this INSANE-MAKING NOISE in my head have been ruled out. Yay! It was also nice to see that my migraines haven't left any visible scars.
We're all doing pretty well, except for the sick and the fact that both boys choose weekends to wake up at 4 and 5 am. It's as if THEY KNOW. They're both shaking up their own bedtime routines, too. Dixon insists--no, DEMANDS--two books every night, and they must be read two times each, by both mommy and daddy. As I stand with him cribside, he sits up in my arms and says, "Milk! Milk!" I sit back down with him to let him nurse, and he sits bolt upright and shouts, "Book! Book! BOOK!" Lather, rinse, repeat, until I give up and trade kids with Jeff.
Of course, then Samuel will get in trouble with me, and suddenly Daddy is the only one worth speaking to. I hurt Samuel's feelings last night, and I came back to apologize for it, but I don't think he forgave me until this morning. The kid actually dismissed me when I apologized to him, so I left him and Jeff to finish the bedtime routine. Jeez. Samuel stays up for hours after we tuck him in, doing heaven-knows-what up there. He has a strange habit of destroying just about everything. He tears the bindings and covers from books, and has destroyed his tent poles beyond repair. We hear his door open and close, we sometimes hear a loud THUMP! Other times, we hear him breathing up on the landing. A quiet, gentle, "Samuel, honey, go to bed" is received with wails that could break your heart if they weren't so damned funny. We are concerned about the book-tearing, though. I can't figure out what it is that's making him do it, and how to get him to stop. Confiscating books seems so WRONG, but he's damaged more than half the books in his room, some to the point where they can no longer be read.
His latest favorite phrase is, "I'm so mad! Don't talk me!" and "I don' want ANYTHING!" I prefer these to his previous favorite, "you stupid!" and, "oh, dammit!" Always a new trick with him. He can also be terribly sweet and funny, with "I'm proud of you, mommy" and, "no, thank YOU!" It's easy to see how his mind is working to figure all this stuff out, but he's like a rapid cycler. He keeps us all on our toes.
I'm editing almost every night, which doesn't leave much time for more creative pursuits, but hey--it's money, and I'm learning all sorts of things. Two of my recent assignments were on the topic of Agrobacterium rhizogenes, which made me unreasonably happy. (Yep, still an Agro nerd.)
I despair, on occasion, fearing that all the things I want to do and to provide for my children will be impossible, but Jeff always reminds me that, with patience and perseverance, we'll get there. I'm just so impatient! I want it now! *stomps foot* Really, though, I worry about my children, and worry about not being there for them enough. With every new milestone, I feel time slipping away... feel my chance to be the mother they need slipping away.
Well, I still can't hear anything... wonder how long this'll last?
I'm going to stop navel-gazing and go wield a pipet. OMGSRSLY?!? Yes, the keyboard jockey is going to go try a new procedure. Rawr.
My brain is fine, by the way. A bit asymmetrical--there's a lump on the back right side--but nicely crinkly and grooved and looking just like the pictures in your favorite version of Gray's Anatomy. I have the coloring book, how about you?
So the scary causes for this INSANE-MAKING NOISE in my head have been ruled out. Yay! It was also nice to see that my migraines haven't left any visible scars.
We're all doing pretty well, except for the sick and the fact that both boys choose weekends to wake up at 4 and 5 am. It's as if THEY KNOW. They're both shaking up their own bedtime routines, too. Dixon insists--no, DEMANDS--two books every night, and they must be read two times each, by both mommy and daddy. As I stand with him cribside, he sits up in my arms and says, "Milk! Milk!" I sit back down with him to let him nurse, and he sits bolt upright and shouts, "Book! Book! BOOK!" Lather, rinse, repeat, until I give up and trade kids with Jeff.
Of course, then Samuel will get in trouble with me, and suddenly Daddy is the only one worth speaking to. I hurt Samuel's feelings last night, and I came back to apologize for it, but I don't think he forgave me until this morning. The kid actually dismissed me when I apologized to him, so I left him and Jeff to finish the bedtime routine. Jeez. Samuel stays up for hours after we tuck him in, doing heaven-knows-what up there. He has a strange habit of destroying just about everything. He tears the bindings and covers from books, and has destroyed his tent poles beyond repair. We hear his door open and close, we sometimes hear a loud THUMP! Other times, we hear him breathing up on the landing. A quiet, gentle, "Samuel, honey, go to bed" is received with wails that could break your heart if they weren't so damned funny. We are concerned about the book-tearing, though. I can't figure out what it is that's making him do it, and how to get him to stop. Confiscating books seems so WRONG, but he's damaged more than half the books in his room, some to the point where they can no longer be read.
His latest favorite phrase is, "I'm so mad! Don't talk me!" and "I don' want ANYTHING!" I prefer these to his previous favorite, "you stupid!" and, "oh, dammit!" Always a new trick with him. He can also be terribly sweet and funny, with "I'm proud of you, mommy" and, "no, thank YOU!" It's easy to see how his mind is working to figure all this stuff out, but he's like a rapid cycler. He keeps us all on our toes.
I'm editing almost every night, which doesn't leave much time for more creative pursuits, but hey--it's money, and I'm learning all sorts of things. Two of my recent assignments were on the topic of Agrobacterium rhizogenes, which made me unreasonably happy. (Yep, still an Agro nerd.)
I despair, on occasion, fearing that all the things I want to do and to provide for my children will be impossible, but Jeff always reminds me that, with patience and perseverance, we'll get there. I'm just so impatient! I want it now! *stomps foot* Really, though, I worry about my children, and worry about not being there for them enough. With every new milestone, I feel time slipping away... feel my chance to be the mother they need slipping away.
Well, I still can't hear anything... wonder how long this'll last?
I'm going to stop navel-gazing and go wield a pipet. OMGSRSLY?!? Yes, the keyboard jockey is going to go try a new procedure. Rawr.