Don’t Yeet the Baby

Sherman was carrying Rey (the cat), announced that she was his baby, and immediately began considering the virtues of yeeting his baby. I told him “Don’t yeet your baby!!”

(“Yeet”, for the Olds, is the young people’s slang originating in the AAVE dialect, for throwing something, especially something worthless like trash; if you’re interested in the origins of the popularity of this term may I refer you to this vine, language warning).

This of course, reminded Kyle and I of the infamous “Don’t Shake Your Baby” videos they show impressionable and exhausted parents at the hospital before you take your egg brain real life human baby home. They’re hoping by traumatizing parents they can avoid traumatizing babies; one of the few instances of replacement trauma I find acceptable.

“Despite how you may feel at 3am after 72 hours of straight sleep deprivation, do not, under any circumstances, yeet your baby.”

“Even if your baby has been screaming for two hours straight, do not yeet her. Set her down, and take a calming walk around your apartment to the unavoidable soundtrack of human agony.”

“Even when you smell like spoiled milk, time is meaningless, and all that awaits you is the endless maw of a hungry mouth transferring nutrition into poopsplosions in striking repetition, do not yeet your baby.”

“Whatever you do, do not yeet your baby.”

***This has been a public service announcement, courtesy of Sherman, and the much more sobering followup conversation about what actually happens if you shake a baby.

I Was Innocent and Certain, Now I’m Wiser and Unsure

Hey kids, there’s a global pandemic on so why not come back and revive ye olden blog I once upon a time updated daily. Who was that person from four and a half years ago who last posted? I haven’t seen her in years.

I’m pretty sure if the old cross posting technology that used to post these to facebook is still working, almost everyone who I’m still facebook friends with (yes, there was a purge) probably already gets my Christmas letters, but hey. Why not do a four year recap.

We moved to Nashville in 2016 after a period of employment instability, I did a coding bootcamp in 2017 and became a Software Developer. Kyle quit the professional world and became a stay at home dad, and I became the bread winner. Our kids outgrew their FPIES (thank GOD). We became financially stable for the first time in our adult lives (I highly recommend it). We bought a town house. Now there’s a global pandemic and our kids are starting school virtually for the first time ever. Kyle has become a school facilitator/tyrant and makes the kids get their stuff done in the mornings before lunch. I’m working from home at the moment.

There have been no more children. We were thinking maybe in 2020, but then 2020 happened and we’re kind of glad we didn’t. Whew. That would have been a wild ride. I’m over wild rides though. I like them nice, and steady. All adventures need to be neatly planned, or at least have enough of a budget to handle poor planning and “winging it”.

By the way, does anybody out there have kind of a big age gap between their kids? Any advice? Should we do it? Sherman is 6 now and in first grade (excuse me while I die, my babies are KIDS NOW WHY DOES TIME DO THIS TO ME), so there’d be kind of a chunk of time between kiddos. Yes, I’m outsourcing parenting advice from my facebook friends and (theoretically) the internet at large. I have sunk so low. I even google parenting articles. Most of the time they tell me my kids are normal and it’s a phase but I need that reassurance, ok?

I’m also a certified instructor for a workout class. That happened in March just a squidge before the world shut down. Have taught exactly zero classes due to Miss Corona, but I still workout once or twice a week, between sessions sitting on the couch and late night walks to avoid the heat and humidity of the Tennessee summers.

To sum up, things are different. I’m in a different place physically, temporally, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Things are more stable here. I like it that way.

The Library Fiasco

I took the kids to storytime at the library today, and it was a mess. 10 o’clock–when it started–is right on the edge of naptime for Sherman, but he can usually make it to noon without too much trouble. Not today.

Ruby went to a preschool time, and I accompanied Sherman to toddler time. When you’re in a room full of toddlers and yours is the worst, you have reached a new low. Who knew boys could be so violent and angry?

As we were leaving the library, both of my kids pulled their hands out of mine and went running through the parking lot. I shouted at Ruby and ended up hauling Sherman to the car by his shirt.

I’m calling this as a parenting win because neither of my children got run over or defenestrated today.

Despite what recent blog entries may be implying, I do love my kids and we have many lovely times. But sometimes they do make me want to pull my hair out. Why write about it? I want to remember more than the perfect, happy memories so that I can be empathetic to young moms when I’m elderly and mostly have lingering fond memories of my kids’ childhoods.

Dear future, elderly Eliza,
Kids are rotten sometimes. Don’t forget it.
Past Eliza

Snowman Nose

Today I nominated Kyle to play in the snow with the kids on the premise that I did it last time. A while after they went out, Ruby knocked on the door and asked for carrots for a snowman nose. I gave her two carrots in case there was more than one snowman and sent her on her way.

When she came back inside after her snowman was done, she announced “I ate one carrot.” Kyle clarified that she ate it on her way back out to the snowman. It’s a good thing I gave her two or she would have come back for more.

Sneaky Sneaker

Kyle goes to great lengths to make sure the children both have their arms folded for the dinnertime prayer. They always have their arms folded…at least at the beginning of the prayer.

Tonight Kyle got the kids to fold their arms, and started the prayer. I heard Sherman move, so I looked at him. Sherman managed to unfold his arms, spear a piece of ham off his plate, put it in his mouth, put the fork back down, and re-fold his arms before Kyle had finished offering the (very brief) prayer.

Eh, folding arms for prayer. It’s in the works.

The Glove is On, The Gauntlet is Thrown

Sherman wanders over to the drawer where I keep my hot pads and oven mitts. This is not irregular, I frequently have to search my house for hot pads while I’m in the middle of dinner and discover my drawer is empty. He pulls out the oven mitt, and heads straight for the (cold) oven to open it up. The oven is still taller than he is, so he reaches above his head to grab the handle in his awkward over-sized mitted hand, and just about falls over opening it up.

It’s the grandest adventure of the day.

—

Three year old Ruby runs around the house, buck naked (despite being dressed multiple times today), waving a lightsaber and calling us all bad guys. I ask if she’s Rey, fighting off the Sith.

“No. I’m Dark Vader.”

“So we’re Jedi?”

“No, you’re bad guys.”

Kyle looks over and says, “From my perspective the Jedi are evil!”

She runs off, and zooms back a few minutes later with Sherman hot on her tail.

“I DON’T WANT TO BE ASSAULTED BY A BABY BAD GUY!”

Chances of Defenestration are High Today

We live on the third floor. We have a lovely view of the apartment across from us our of a large picture window in our front room. It lets in natural light (although due to the direction it faces we don’t get very much direct sunlight, but it’s still a nice window). It has nice, wide, fancy looking blinds on it. The kids like to sit in the window sill and look at the world, especially if there are dogs outside.

When I picture hanging my children from this lovely window by their toes I know it’s time to get some alone time.

Some days my standards of “Good Parent” looks a lot like “I’ve never actually tossed one of my children out of our lovely front window.”

Our kids have slept poorly the last few days, and have been very cranky.

I’m a good parent.

I’m a good parent.

I’m a good parent.

(Number of children removed from house via window since move-in: Still 0)

Ruby at Dinner

Tonight at Dinner Ruby was trying to convince me she could eat chocolate for dinner. I told her she could have some after dinner. She told me she was done with dinner, and I responded that she hadn’t “even touched it yet.”

Ruby looked at me, then carefully poked her dinner with her finger. “I touched it.”

“No, you have to eat dinner until your tummy is full.”

Ruby then looked at her stomach, and proceeded to look at us with this wide eyed expression that said “I have no idea what you’re trying to say to me.”

I told her she had to eat dinner, so she picked up a single piece of pasta, ate it, and announced, “I ate one dinner.”

Snapshots from a Visit to Fargo

Ruby

Sitting on the potty moving tiles around on the Words with Friends app singing the alphabet song.

Hugging my parent’s Yorkshire Terrier, Titan, declaring, “She my friend!” (Gender appropriate pronouns are a work in progress)

Wandering around after my dad left for work calling out, “Grandpa? Where are you?”

When I explain that we’re flying home soon, she looks at me and says, “Stay here?”

Pretending to go “back to work” because that’s what Grandma and Grandpa do.

Going on walks with Grandpa and Titan every day after he gets home from work.

—

Sherman

Luxuriating in crawling around Grandma and Grandpa’s large house. It makes me reflect on how little space there is in our condo to crawl.

Crawling as fast as he can to greet Grandpa at the door when he gets home from work.

Being held by Grandpa, one of his favorite people.

Figuring out that if he reaches down from his high chair with food, Titan will eat out of his hands.

Feeding Titan all of his lunch.

Learning to climb stairs.

This is What I Call A+ Parenting

I went to Barnes & Noble with Ruby today, and sat down to play with Duplos for a while (because what else is a 2yo going to do there?). Ruby was building a castle, and invited me to help her. When I came over to help, she abandoned me for other, shinier, toys. So I started my own castle. It was color coordinated, so I ended up having to…acquire…blocks from her castle. Ruby came back and happily helped me finish my castle.

Then she looked over at the remains of her castle and, dismayed, said, “What happen my castle?!”

“The ignorant peasants hundreds of years after your castle was finished failed to appreciate the engineering and artistry of your ancient castle-work and appropriated the building materials for their own uses.”

She clearly understood what I was talking about because she stopped asking about it. Darn peasants.