Today was brought to us by the letter "B"....if B stands for Benadryl

So I finally caved and got on the Benadryl bandwagon today.

I know...I'm drugging my baby.  Bad mommy.

But there was no sleeping last night, and that's just not a good thing for either of us.  Plus Dr. Sears says it's okay as long as they're over one, so I was convinced.

We tried it for his nap, since if he was going to be one of those kids who got all amped up I figured it was better to know earlier in the day.  And he slept!  Yay!  He woke up after about an hour (he's only been taking one forty minute nap a day) but then was still tired and napped for another hour or so in my arms on the couch as Emily and I enjoyed Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

And he was a much happier baby for the rest of the day, including a long mall shopping trip and car ride.

I have hesitated in part ever giving him any because I don't want to be tempted to give it to him unless it's really, really necessary.  I know it will be tempting given his bad sleeper-ness.  But I'm only giving myself permission to use it for a few days until we get through the zillion teeth he currently has coming in.

Now I will go and hopefully sleep.  (Cue angels singing).

Party time!

We went to our first of three weekends in a row with baby birthday parties.  I am glad Finn is slightly older than his little friends so I had nothing to compare his party to.

I like to be able to keep my standards low.  Especially when it comes to entertaining.

My mother is an uber-hostess.  And while her parties/dinners always come off great, they also seem super stressful.  So at some point I decided to adopt the "you can come over for dinner, but we're ordering pizza" attitude.  Less stress, so I can in theory enjoy the company a little more.

Anyway.  So Finn's party was fairly low maintance, and I got a lot of help from my mother and sister.  Sandwhich platter, store bought cake, no real theme (unless you count "I managed to keep him alive for the first year, good for me!") a theme.

Still, it was nice.  People came, there was cake, Finn was cute.

But I can already tell I am most likely on the low end of first birthday parties.  The one we went to today had a theme.  And lots of decorations.  And a very impressive home made cake.

I think the next two weeks may only highlight my non-party-mavenness.

But Finn was a cute birthday boy.  And he won't remember.  And he's still alive and kicking.  Good for me.

A boy and his broom, a love story

My son has many toys. Many, many, many toys.

We have exactly the house I swore we would never have, with primary colored plastic crap piled in every room.

Toys, toys, toys, and he is pretty much completely uninterested in all of them.

Yes, he plays with balls sometimes, but that’s pretty much it. I don’t know if this is true of all babies or just him.

He does enjoy things he’s not supposed to have – the cell phone charge, refrigerator magnets, toilet paper.

But this week he discovered his true love – the broom. He finally managed to wrestle it out of my hand after I was done sweeping and has been carrying it around pretty much ever since. I know he’s going to end up smacking himself in the face or knocking something over, but he’s just so happy I let him have it.

The downside is that when he must be parted from the broom he screams and screams and screams.

Oh babies. So strange.

We're so glad you've returned!

Or so I imagine the Internet saying to me now that I am blogging again. Big head, sure, but I need to cling to my delusions of grandeur. Don't take them away from me!

I have blogged for years and through my pregnancy, but then my baby arrived and I just stopped.

Why?

It is sometimes legitimately hard to find the time. The baby has a freakishly high size to time consuming ratio (he is small, but his needs? enormous). But, if I can spend hours upon hours researching baby carriers and trolling Etsy, I can probably manage a blog entry now and again. (And, in a somewhat related note, phone calls and emails to my friends who I am now woefully out of touch with).

But my reason for skipping all of these things is the same...I feel like I have nothing to say.

Well, that's not true. I have endless soliloquies and novels to say. I often don't talk to anyone but the baby all day and am dying, DYING to be heard by another adult. But I worry that it's just not that interesting to anyone.

There are days (several) where the biggest thing that happens to me is de-squash staining the laundry, or the truly enormous poop the baby had. My high point last week was the baby learning to clap. I was legitimately thrilled.

But I understand that this is not that interesting to the general public. Maybe to other moms, but a lot of friends are childless.

So how is this different now that I am blogging? Surely there are some moms out there who will be fascinated? At least I will feel like I am heard.

Or maybe I just don't care anymore. I am saying my piece, even if it's just floating around in cyberspace.