Peeves and rants

I feel crabby, and I want to feel validated by writing it down. I was going to post this somewhere private, but I don't want to be private - I want to write what I want, and this is my blog.

Why does my 4-year-old daughter refuse to learn to spit or blow her nose? NO ONE ELSE IN THE WORLD doesn't know how to spit. No one else's mommy has to scrape vomit off their tongue with a washcloth because they can't or won't spit it out. Oh, I am frustrated with that.

I hate it when people give lengthy responses to emails they obviously have not read, expostulating on things they didn't bother to read completely.

I hate it when people reply to all on responses that really only apply to one person.

I hate having my solicited opinion denounced. Like, someone asks, "What do you think of this?" I respond, "It's not my first choice, and here are legitimate reasons A, B, and C, and proof I know what I'm talking about." Response: "Why are you being so negative? This will be great! Let's all be so excited about it!" Well, look. If you don't want my feedback, don't ask for it, but don't tell me I'm wrong. I'm not wrong. It's so frustrating when you want to respond, "Look, you bozo, you obviously didn't understand, and how dare you try to discount my legitimate feedback with your blind, forced assertions?" To avoid sounding like a troll, I have to be silent and just wait for experience to prove my point, and that's frustrating.

I hate having big, itchy mosquito bites on my legs. Seriously, it hasn't rained all summer. The mosquitoes should have all been fried up.

I hate it when Damon gets constipated. How can someone on an all-liquid diet be constipated? For heaven's sake, just poop it out and stop being so crabby!

(I guess I'm not one to talk there. About the crabby part, not the other.)

We're going on vacation tomorrow. None too soon, obviously.

Breaking news

We've got a roller - he goes pretty consistently from back to front, then gets ticked off because he's on his belly.

Carmen's doing well on potty training - except for when she poops in her undies. That's really gross.

Piano's starting up again next week. It will be fun, but it has been a nice break.

Does anyone know a mute hairstylist? We all know I need a haircut, but I just want to sit there and not talk while it's happening. I guess if it's someone who doesn't speak any English, that would work too.

Preschool starts next week too. Olivia's excited!

Damon stuff

There's a lot I never posted about Damon, such as how we chose his name.

As many of you know, there's a lot of thought and pickiness that goes into our naming process. We have many specifications that a name must have, so there's definitely an elimination process that happens even before preference comes into play.

Criteria include:

-Gender obvious

-Obviously spelled

-Obvious (correct) pronunciation

-Established name: nothing made up (nix on Quaiden or Fraiden)

-No direct, immediate nickname (aka, no David/Dave, Steven/Steve, etc.)

-More than 1 syllable

-Different first initial from other family members

-No sound slurring (aka, can't end in the first sound of his next name: so, LucaS-Steven or Caleb-Brown were out)

-Different first name from other immediate family members or close extended family (this pared it down a lot)

At some point while we were pouring over baby naming sites and books, it became evident that, as similar and compatible as Steven and I are, our male naming preferences were not quite as aligned as I would have assumed. Some of my favorite names were vetoed before the first cut, for reasons I still don't understand, but hope go away in case we ever have another boy.

However, we did at some point start to lean toward D names...something about them sounded right. And it so happened that for Christmas I gave Steven a book of short stories by one of my favorite authors, Damon Runyon. This put the name on our radar. While our other kids have Spanish names, Damon is actually a Greek name: Damon was a character in Greek mythology who was a selfless friend who stood in to be executed in his friend Pythias's place (both were eventually pardoned); Damon, son of Damonides was a Greek musicologist and teacher of Pericles. It passed our other conditions, and we both liked it. It sounded well with the names of our other children. For a while, Steven was holding out on commitment for something more revelatory, but the night after Damon was born I called him from the hospital to let him know his time was up - the baby was here, and we had to decide. In my head I had started referring to him as Damon, and it fit. While neither of us felt the same confirmation about the name as we did for, say, Carmen (who is indisputably a Carmen, if anyone ever was), Damon's a good Damon, and we're happy with it. And him.

Now enough talk. Time for some pictures!

Here's Damon's beautiful hair swirl. A lot of it is rubbed off now, but I sure loved it.

And here he is sitting next to his cousin, and showing how he has his mommy's scowl (I'm so proud!)

And here he is looking dapper in the blessing outfit I made him. This is the last time he will wear it, as I had to peel it off of him - I just needed one good picture before I put it away, to be worn again at some fabled day by another fabled little boy.

He's a happy boy, and I'm a happy mommy.

Today's Tom Sawyer

My, but this boy looks cute in his overalls.

And that smile comes straight from my dad.

How we're doing

In the first couple of weeks after Damon was born, people would ask me, "Is he a good baby?"

It was a hard question.

Really, all babies are good, aren't they? And Damon wasn't really a very difficult baby...he just wasn't as easy as my other two. He didn't sleep as well as they did, he was colicky and gassy, and he was not snuggly (a hard adjustment after my uber-snuggly Carmen).

At the beginning of June our whole family went to California for a week for a family reunion. It was nice to see my sweet Grandma Anne (with whom we stayed for a while) and my parents and siblings. The kids had fun playing with their cousins. Traveling with 3 kids wasn't as hard as it could have been, and they were all angels on the airplanes. But the nights, and consequently, the days, were hard. Going across 2 time zones, adjusting to different food, and sharing the same room with 2 young kids (one of whom never wants to sleep) and a colicky baby wore Steven and me pretty thin. By the time we got home, I was ready to...well, I don't know. I was ready to do something to get away from fussy kids and get some sleep.

Somehow, though, that trip did the trick for Damon. Ever since we've been home, I can wholeheartedly refer to him as a good baby! He sleeps at night for 4-5 hour blocks. He manages to poop and toot without straining and fussing for hours. He does not need constant bouncing by a standing adult. He lies on the floor, by himself, for minutes at a time, looking around and cooing. He smiles and makes cute faces. He SNUGGLES!

So, this week has been a happy one, and I am very grateful. Looks like we won't sell him to the gypsies after all.

Damon

So, apparently our due date estimates are really good.

Damon Steven Brown

Due date: May 8

Born: May 8, 12:13 pm

7 lbs. 12 oz., 20 inches

Yes, this is my second baby in a row delivered a little past noon on my due date. I'm not sure how we've achieved this level of precision in childbearing, but it sure is convenient.

You should go to Steven's blog for more info, pics and videos.

I was previously kind of uncertain over the idea of having a boy. But many of you know that I have an (arguably healthy) obsession for my husband. Damon's like a pocket-sized Steven that I get to dress in dinosaur onesies. And he has soft, soft black hair and a dimple in his cheek and a manly little cleft chin and he likes me better than anyone. So, I've definitely been converted to baby boys. Or at least my baby boy. I really, really, really like him.

They're really just guidelines, anyway.

Hungry Hippos and I hit 39 weeks yesterday, and are still quite attached to each other (and ripening nicely). I've been a lot more chill during this pregnancy than I was with my previous two. There are some factors that I think have contributed to this:

• I have two other kids now that I have to worry about, so I don't have time or energy to obsess over the pregnancy
• I skipped several of the monotonous OB appointments, and it made the pregnancy go a lot faster
• I haven't felt as hormonally hypercharged as I did during my previous pregnancies, which I attribute to this baby's being a boy
• Different expectations: Carmen broke me in by coming on her due date, with no prior signs - I just woke up in the morning, and she was ready to come out (Olivia was a week early, with plenty of forewarning)
• My sweet mommy isn't coming out to help until Saturday, so I feel less pressure for him to come early, and in fact, it would be more convenient for him to be precisely punctual
• I had a bunch of stuff I needed to get done by the end of April, so it was nice to be able to finish it
• We don't have a first name for him yet, anyway

Last night (while I was awake, having to visit the loo every 15 minutes) I realized that part of the stress of the baby waiting game is that we often perceive due dates as deadlines rather than estimates. I know that's what I've done: if they're not here by my calculated 40 weeks, they're LATE! But that seems awfully unfair. Hungry Hippos doesn't even know how to count yet, and I'm sure he's growing as fast as he can. It's convenient that we have a general idea of about when he might emerge, for planning purposes, but if he's not ready yet to leave his nice, round home, well, he's not ready. And while I wouldn't say I'm comfy, we still make a nice, waddle-y team.

Last week I knew he wasn't ready to come out. But, I am feeling now like he might be ready this week.