Toys R Us may think so.
And to think there are advertising firms hired to come up with these new PC terms.
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observations. Show all posts
Monday, September 17, 2007
Sick. Sleep. Sick. Sleep???
If Mateo didn't look an awful lot like me, I'd have to question if he was really the baby that was yanked so ungraciously from my womb back in February. There are two major differences between he and I:
1. I like to sleep.
From what my mom has told me, I was a baby who slept. I know I slept a lot when I was a kid -- slept in, that is, since I can't remember naps at all. I remember sleeping in forever during the summer. There was a stretch of years where I didn't sleep much and caught up on my lack of sleep on Sundays. This time was during my early 20's. Then at some point I got old and decided I loved naps. So I would nap. I would coerce my husband into napping with me, but usually he didn't want to nap. He definitely doesn't like to sleep in, and thinks that sleeping past 8 o'clock in the morning means the whole day is shot. I, on the other hand, and more now since Mateo has graced us with his adorable presence, would sleep the day away, waking up at 2 or 3pm and doing whatever I need to do before going back to sleep. Oh, that was a funny statement, wasn't it? I would do that, but do I? No. Why? Cause my little bugger doesn't like to sleep and gets us up between 5-6 am on the weekends.
Mateo, on the other hand, is not one for sleeping. This seems to be getting increasingly worse as he gets older instead of better. Oh, yes, we had a few good weeks of 10+ hours of sleeping through the night, but now that he's more mobile and is a bit of a restless sleeper, he tends to wander around his crib while sleeping, usually getting himself stuck in some weird position he's too tired to figure out how to get out of, and then proceeds to cry and cry until one of us rescues him. He's also become more of a light sleeper, so he's not going back to sleep easily anymore. He got that from me, as I'm a light sleeper as well. Poor him. Poor me.
He's horrible at naps while at daycare, does okay when someone is holding him at home, but not so good in his crib at home.
He's simply not my child. At least in the sleep department.
2. When I'm sick, I want to be sick to the fullest extent.
I want attention and pity and back rubs and, oh yeah, SLEEP, and I want to complain and have a pity party that anyone can come to. As long as you're going to feel sorry for me. I want to eat junky food and read trashy magazines and take NyQuil until I pass out.
Mateo likes to party when he's sick. He parties in his crib, he parties on the floor, he parties on our bed. He parties in his high chair, he parties in my arms, he parties in the stroller. He parties while the snot is rolling out of his nose and while he's hacking away. He's been sick four times now, and only one day during one of his illnesses did he show he didn't feel good. And that was by staring off into space while in Old Navy. Normally he'd be looking around with his big, ol' "please let me cheese you" eyes.
My husband is the same way. He'll pop pill after pill after pill to combat whatever illness is creeping into his system, but he will rarely just stop and rest. Now that he has a job where he can call in sick and the world won't crumble down upon some one's head, he will take a day off to recover, but I know he's really running around our condo, trying to clean or straighten or squirrel away things so his universe is more in control.
So what does this mean? Oh, well, to just put it out there: We need to have another kid so he/she can look like my husband but be more like me! Someone tell my husband that. And while you're at it, whisper to Mateo that he needs to sleep so mommy can sleep....
1. I like to sleep.
From what my mom has told me, I was a baby who slept. I know I slept a lot when I was a kid -- slept in, that is, since I can't remember naps at all. I remember sleeping in forever during the summer. There was a stretch of years where I didn't sleep much and caught up on my lack of sleep on Sundays. This time was during my early 20's. Then at some point I got old and decided I loved naps. So I would nap. I would coerce my husband into napping with me, but usually he didn't want to nap. He definitely doesn't like to sleep in, and thinks that sleeping past 8 o'clock in the morning means the whole day is shot. I, on the other hand, and more now since Mateo has graced us with his adorable presence, would sleep the day away, waking up at 2 or 3pm and doing whatever I need to do before going back to sleep. Oh, that was a funny statement, wasn't it? I would do that, but do I? No. Why? Cause my little bugger doesn't like to sleep and gets us up between 5-6 am on the weekends.
Mateo, on the other hand, is not one for sleeping. This seems to be getting increasingly worse as he gets older instead of better. Oh, yes, we had a few good weeks of 10+ hours of sleeping through the night, but now that he's more mobile and is a bit of a restless sleeper, he tends to wander around his crib while sleeping, usually getting himself stuck in some weird position he's too tired to figure out how to get out of, and then proceeds to cry and cry until one of us rescues him. He's also become more of a light sleeper, so he's not going back to sleep easily anymore. He got that from me, as I'm a light sleeper as well. Poor him. Poor me.
He's horrible at naps while at daycare, does okay when someone is holding him at home, but not so good in his crib at home.
He's simply not my child. At least in the sleep department.
2. When I'm sick, I want to be sick to the fullest extent.
I want attention and pity and back rubs and, oh yeah, SLEEP, and I want to complain and have a pity party that anyone can come to. As long as you're going to feel sorry for me. I want to eat junky food and read trashy magazines and take NyQuil until I pass out.
Mateo likes to party when he's sick. He parties in his crib, he parties on the floor, he parties on our bed. He parties in his high chair, he parties in my arms, he parties in the stroller. He parties while the snot is rolling out of his nose and while he's hacking away. He's been sick four times now, and only one day during one of his illnesses did he show he didn't feel good. And that was by staring off into space while in Old Navy. Normally he'd be looking around with his big, ol' "please let me cheese you" eyes.
My husband is the same way. He'll pop pill after pill after pill to combat whatever illness is creeping into his system, but he will rarely just stop and rest. Now that he has a job where he can call in sick and the world won't crumble down upon some one's head, he will take a day off to recover, but I know he's really running around our condo, trying to clean or straighten or squirrel away things so his universe is more in control.
So what does this mean? Oh, well, to just put it out there: We need to have another kid so he/she can look like my husband but be more like me! Someone tell my husband that. And while you're at it, whisper to Mateo that he needs to sleep so mommy can sleep....
Sunday, September 02, 2007
And we wonder how our roles in life are defined?
My husband and I took Mateo to the park on Friday morning. We headed to a small playground so Mateo could experience his first swing fun. The playground was overfilled with tons of children, probably about ages 4-6, from some school or daycare. Many of the kids were in the sandbox with blue plastic picnic cups, although I'm not sure why except for the fact that they could easily use the cups to throw sand at each other. Well, at least, that's what my adult brain would think they'd be doing.
When the big yellow school bus arrived to whisk them all back to where they came from, the adults told all the kids to line up by class. Most of the kids ran to the adults; about five boys stayed in the sandbox to kick up sand and create a massive sand storm. This was probably something they wanted to do since they got there.
Finally the boys ran to the adults. The next time I glanced up, about 5 girls were running back to the sandbox. When they got there, they started picking up the blue cups all the kids left behind. Just like dutiful little girls should.
So the boys that were just in there, kicking up the sand, couldn't pick up the cups, but the girls, who were already in line (another proper thing girls do), had to go back and get them all.
And people wonder how gender differences start?
I, for one, wouldn't have ran back to pick up the cups. And if I was told to, I would have done so with a very bad attitude. An internal bad attitude, but a bad attitude nonetheless.
When the big yellow school bus arrived to whisk them all back to where they came from, the adults told all the kids to line up by class. Most of the kids ran to the adults; about five boys stayed in the sandbox to kick up sand and create a massive sand storm. This was probably something they wanted to do since they got there.
Finally the boys ran to the adults. The next time I glanced up, about 5 girls were running back to the sandbox. When they got there, they started picking up the blue cups all the kids left behind. Just like dutiful little girls should.
So the boys that were just in there, kicking up the sand, couldn't pick up the cups, but the girls, who were already in line (another proper thing girls do), had to go back and get them all.
And people wonder how gender differences start?
I, for one, wouldn't have ran back to pick up the cups. And if I was told to, I would have done so with a very bad attitude. An internal bad attitude, but a bad attitude nonetheless.
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