part 2

So.

For the first time since Asher was a little baby, and we were living in the apartment and I couldn't walk across the living room (literally) for fear of waking him, and he slept like THREE TIMES A DAY for FOREVER - for the first time since that period of my life, I was bored today. I know. I KNOW! How can I be bored? How does a woman with two sick children two years old and under find time to be bored?

It was easy.

Silas sleeps off vaccinations, apparently. The boy slept three hours this morning, woke up long enough to eat and be cute for a few minutes, then slept another three and a half hours. GOOD. GRIEF. And Asher watched cartoons excessively this morning, played a little, ate a little, then slept over three hours this afternoon. Which means - I was in the house, on a rainy day, anticipating being needed and never being called. So, I ... watched excessive cartoons and played on the computer and generally hung out on the couch until I realized this is ridiculous and folded some laundry. But folding clothes and loading the dishwasher do not count toward alleviating boredom.

I heard it referenced somewhere once (how's that for vague?) - we are alloted x amount of words per day. If I've been around people all day long, by 8 pm I'm all used up - I've handed out all of my words, and I'll have to wait until tomorrow before I have anything new to say. But if I've, say, watched two hours of Max and Ruby (a show that used to seem benign but has, over time, formed a blister on my brain - something mildly irritating, over and over, that now makes me want to limp away and cuss), followed by two hours of Little Bear (which is marginally better, to be sure), followed by a three hour naptime .... well, all those words are going somewhere. Apparently tonight they are landing here.

When I was pregnant, I read Babywise. And I lived with Halle, who could write her own (better) Babywise book, 8 children later. And I love routines - love them in my soul - so I just assumed this is how we would function. Certainly I, too, could feed a baby, put a baby down awake, he would drift off gently to sleep, and I would go on with life. Right? Ha - even writing that makes me roll my eyes now. I know some babies do it, but neither of mine EVER drifted peacefully off to sleep as newborns. In fact, I have a picture of Asher asleep in the recliner, because it was the only time before he was 8 months old that he ever fell asleep on his own. It was picture-worthy, that's how unusual it was.

But something happens at 8 months for my babies. This is the age when I begin to see their personalities - mild-mannered Asher and extroverted Silas both began to emerge at 8 months. And it also seems to be the time when my kids are ready to sleep on their own. Asher did it very easily back in the day, and Silas seems to be doing the same.

He goes to sleep now on his own. I give him his blanket, rock him long enough for him to understand what time it is, and put him in bed. Sometimes I need to go to him once, but sometimes I don't. Either way, within 15 minutes he's out. And it just seems so .... surprising and grown up and impressive to me, that this baby I spent HOURS coaxing to sleep back in December can now just ... drift off. I can't get over it.

Also, while I'm using up my words and my time, tonight we had dinner in the living room (to complete our lazy day). Asher was in his high chair, Brian and I were sitting on the couch and in the recliner (respectively), and Silas was crawling on the floor. To distract him from pulling up on Asher's high chair and causing general mayhem for a few minutes, I put a plate of sweet potato puffs on a blanket for him. He ate a few, then kept trying to pick up the polka dots from the blanket rather than the puffs. From across the room, I said, "Silas baby they're on your plate. Look at your plate. There are your puffs." AND HE DID IT. You understand that he's 9 months old, right? And that I was across the room, and did not point to the plate? He just understood me and followed my direction. Smart boy.

He's also fond of his dad. If Brian walks in the room and doesn't pick him up, he cries. And I swear he's saying calling him by name intentionally. He babbles during play too, but every now and then he will look right at Brian and say, "a-Da!" I'm counting it as his first word.

And if you made it this far, you win a prize. A thank you. From me to you.

Good night all.