The Exorcism of Connor Johnson

Last night was a night like any other at our house.  It was almost Connor's bedtime and he was munching on a new snack we'd discovered he REALLY loves...Animal Crackers!  My husband came in the room and as he reminded him it was bedtime, he took the gnawed remnant out of Connor's clenched hand.  Then it happened!  Connor's little body grew rigid and began to shake or vibrate might be a more accurate description.  His head began to spin atop his shoulders and an ear-splitting scream erupted from his lips.  Confused by this behavior we observed our little angel...now a little demon as he appeared to almost be taken over by some outside force.  Hysterically, he wailed and shook.  "Give it back!"  I rashly ordered Harry.  He gave the tiny fragment back to our son and suddenly silence swept through the room.  The lights stopped flickering, the furniture fell to the floor it once hovered above, and Connor stood there happily savoring every last microscopic crumb of his beloved Animal Cracker.  "What just happened?"  Harry asked, stunned.  "I have NO idea..."  I replied. The next day we were even more frightened to discover that our child is not possessed, but in fact, preparing for his Terrible Two's.  Can these be exercised?!!!  God help us!

The Crafty Wenches Club

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Hallelujah!

I could be jumping the gun here, but last night my child went to bed at 8:00 and did not wake up--not even one time--until 6:30.  If you knew my son, you would realize this is an *actual* miracle.  This kid has not slept through an entire night ever in his 17 month long life.  Now, when I say he has never slept through the night, I mean waking up multiple times...*every* night without exception.  Hence, the reason his Mummy and DaDa have been a little more than walking zombies for the past year.  We also FINALLY sucked it up and stopped giving him bottles during the night.  We thought this would be a disaster for many nights to come, but surprisingly there have been only a couple crying-it-out sessions and up until last night he would wake often (as usual), but go back to sleep on his own...eventually.  Another reason this is so strange is because he isn't feeling well, coughing and sniffling.  The Husband said it might've been due to the medicine.  I wish it was that easy!  The medicine has never knocked him out in the past nor being sick.  Nope, this is just a boneifide miracle. 

A Lovely Morning in the Emergency Room

I am so frustrated with the doctors and nurses in the "Shall Remain Nameless" ER.  Connor spent the last two nights with--what I thought--was a terrible wheezing.  I read all this stuff on the internet that made it sound as if he had the Croup.  I know there isn't much that can be done for Croup, but everything I read and his pediatrician all have said if he starts wheezing to go to the ER.  Wheezing means pneumonia, right?  So we go and they all act as if we shouldn't have brought him in.  "Is he eating?" They ask. "No..." I say.  "Well it's kind of hard to eat when you're all stuffed up."  Yes, and it's also hard to eat when you are coughing so violently that you nearly puke every 10 minutes.  But they decided that was all imaginary.  I feel bad because I don't want to fill an ER bed needlessly plus who wants to sit with a 1 year old in an ER for 3 hours?!!!  So these doctors need to stop telling us to bring him in or the ER people need to get on the same page as the pediatricians.  It almost felt like we were being punished for bringing him in, but we thought that's what we were supposed to do.  And I am SO tired of people calling a Croup cough a seal bark.  What the heck???  I thought I knew what a seal sounded like, but apparently not.

My Connor

This is one of my favorite pages.  It's so difficult to find all the little bits, or so I thought and then I realized you can use just about anything to embellish a scrapbook page.  Although, it helps if your bits are flat.

Beauty In Bangs

I wish I could take a better picture.  The colors are a lot darker than they appear and it is hard to see the detail.  Grrr!

Love These Two!

Lovely morning at the Little Children's Park in Ocean Springs, MS.  Feeling festive in our orange.  I cannot wait til Fall is in full swing!

Kindermusik!

Kindermusik class!  It's amazing how quickly Connor is picking up on things.  I registered him in it in hopes of finding some structured activities that would help him focus more.  I worry he may be borderline hyperactive, but maybe that's just because he is a typical 17 month old boy.  He has begun interacting with the other children, which he never did before.  He participated in the dancing, following the group's movements at times, he's making eye contact, and listening a lot more.

Images From My Happy Place...The Crafting Room!

My photography skills leave a lot to be desired.  The colors in this pages are actually much more vibrant.  I promise to work on that.

Wearied

Wearied by day with toils and cares,
How welcome is the peaceful night!
Sweet sleep our wasted strength repairs,
And fits us for returning light.
Yet when our eyes in sleep are closed,
Our rest may break ere well begun;
To wailing babes up every hour wanting bottles
We neither can foresee nor shun.

--Mostly written by John Newton

My True Loves

Results of Connor's 1st night without a bottle...*drumroll*

Well he woke up every two hours--as usual, but this time there was an added 20 to 30 minutes of crying, too.  My poor husband had baby duty last night.  He is as exhausted as our little Connor (who is, as I type, rubbing his eyes wearily).  Please!  Please! Let this child SLEEP tonight!

The Woes of Toddlerhood

In less than one day my little Connor will be 17 months old.  Poor guy has been through so many changes lately.  First, he was booted out of the marital bed he had grown so accustomed to--15 month! enough with being kicked and slapped all through the night already.  He didn't move far...just into his crib which stood about one foot away from my side of the bed.  A lot of good THAT did--he ended up back with us before the night was over. After about a week of that he was then relocated into the room just outside our bedroom door, where he remained for about a week.  This is when it got tricky.  We knew getting him to sleep in his own bed was going to mean war and we were preparing ourselves for days if not weeks of screaming and crying.  Unbeknownst to his father and I, this only took two and a half hours of crying, screaming, and vomitting.  Shocked with disbelief we spent the following several nights waiting for this triumph to turn catastrophic.  Luckily, it never did and about two weeks passed and we moved his crib into HIS room.  Connor did not approve of this one little bit.  The first night he cried pitifully for some time, but after a day or two we were back on track. However, back on track only meant that Connor was sleeping in his own bed in his own room.  This did not account for the three, four, sometimes once an hour he'd wake during the night wanting his bottle.  And so here we are.  It's been two months of my sleep depriving angel spending all night in his own bed, but he still wakes at best every three hours for a bottle, at worst every hour.  Tonight we have broken down and decided it is time for drastic measures.  Cold turkey!  Well, not completely...we put him to bed with a bottle, but when he woke two hours later, he was disgusted to find this bottle was only filled with extremely diluted juice.  So he cried for about 30 minutes before finally giving in and falling back asleep.  I am seriously dreading the next time he wakes.  It's most likely going to be quite ugly and ugly for a good long time.  I hate letting him "cry it out", but when you've tried everything else...what are you to do?  We are so tired! Have I mentioned that we will soon be having another little being around to deprive us of yet even more beautiful, wonderful, lovely sleep?

Trials and Tribulations of Mommyhood Pt. II

Before my son, my house was museum-like--not a speck of dust and everything in its place. I would vacuum everyday and even still, crawl across the carpet searching for wayward pieces of fuzz. After coming home from the hospital with a C-section and a baby, I immediately began wondering when I would be able to mop and sweep, growing increasingly frustrated with the exhaustion that wouldn't allow me to get started right away. I've spent the last 17 months of his life struggling to keep the house perfect and losing the battle a little more each day. At this point, I have taken to getting the vacuuming and mopping done while his Daddy bathes him at 7 in the evening (and I only mop every other day now!). This allows me such a great night's sleep...at least until he wakes at 10, 2, 4, and 6. He has taken on my habits, too. He will take the broom out of the closet and push it around the kitchen floor, he is fascinated with the vacuum—trying to operate it the best he can, and he stuffs all his toys in every crevice he can find so they are never on the floor. I comfort myself with the thought that he will make some girl very happy one day with his tidiness...as long as it doesn't fester into a compulsion, of course. I don’t know if I am ready to throw in the towel yet. I am fairly certain leaving all the objects that have found the living room floor ON THE FLOOR would make me very nearly insane by the next day if not sooner. However, I have relaxed to a point…I will allow toys and such to remain on the floor at least until he is DONE playing with them. This was not, unfortunately, always the case. Oh, and showers! What’s the quickest shower you’ve ever taken? As I sit here writing this I should be cleaning either myself or the house (or his bottom), but alas, this child has kept me up half the night and exhaustion relentlessly taunts, “Muhahahaha!”

Dear Baby Connor,

I looked at you today,really watched you. We were outside in the warm summer air, the place you long to be the most. You were crunching and then choking a little on the leaf you were eating. You LOVE eating or rather chewing on leaves, acorns, rocks, dirt, etc. At first, I noticed your eyes and how large and round they are--like perfectly shaped almonds beaming out at me. Then the glittery blue of them made me smile, I thought how easily hidden they are beneath your long, dark lashes. I adore your eyelashes! And by "adore" I mean jealous, too. All at once, I observed the rich reds that make up your tiny smile and the hint of pink coloring your cheeks begin to deepen as you played in the heat of the afternoon. For an instance, I thought I saw you all grown up. A brief twinge of sadness welled inside me at the realization one day you would only be "my little boy" in my eyes, but to the world and yourself you would be a man. That's our goal though, right?...For you to grow into manhood, contribute to society, start a family of your own--THAT I am not ready for just yet. Then another realization struck me. How did I (and by "I", I mean your father, too) make such a handsome, sweet, kind, smart, funny little being like you?!! This was the one time when perfection really counted for something and we nailed it. Of course, not ALL on our own. In the wise words of your father, (and probably Superman or some other comic book hero somewhere)...

"...Only use it for good my son."

Love,
Mommy

Trials and Tribulations of Mommyhood

As a relatively new mom, I have become privy to some of the day-to-day occurrences that one faces with a growing child. For example, in the beginning I discovered just what evil my precious, little, angel was actually capable of inflicting upon his father and me. At any moment, day or night, safely in the privacy of our home or amidst the shocked eyes of onlookers our son’s diaper could spontaneously explode without an iota of warning. The first such occasion happened one warm, sunny morning; there we were, having breakfast, enjoying some casual conversation (mostly about our new edition). This was our first venture out into public with our newborn son. Then it happened. Bright and yellow it shot erratically from every possible direction! My son’s diaper was self destructing and all its contents landed like shrapnel around us. My husband holding the baby in one hand and his fork in the other as I frantically grabbed for every napkin I could find. The look of pure shock and disbelief unfurling across his face was disturbing. Still new at “baby in public” etiquette, we sat for a moment discussing how to handle the situation. As discreetly as possible-- as if discretion was even a possibility--my husband passed the baby across the table and I whisked him off to the restroom. Luckily, the restaurant was so busy we went virtually unnoticed. No one ever warned me of this potential for exploding diapers. I was hardly prepared for such an occasion and I blame every mother I know for this. Unfortunately for my husband he would come to experience many more volatile bowel movements from our boy among other bodily events. It would seem if there was a function to be had by our son; my husband would be the one to bear it…or rather wear the brunt of it. Urine, poop, vomit, my husband has been covered from head to toe at one time or another. Now our little boy is one and his poop has come full circle--no longer bursting from the seams of his diapers. I can only thank the gods. He instead grabs the diaper before you have completely cleaned his hiney and he hurls it across the room as if it were a live grenade. There is a definite theme going on here. Amazingly, I still love him.