I can't believe we've been home for nearly a week, it has flown by as we have been adjusting to life in the Pacific time zone again. The flight home was uneventful, for the most part. There was about an hour when I didn't think I would make it -- my blood sugar was low and there wasn't much to keep Bean occupied after he ripped all the pages out of the SkyMall magazine. But a $3 bag of M&Ms cured the former, and a friendly stewardess walked Bean up and down the aisle to help with the latter. We survived and arrived in the waiting arms of my sweet DH and a tail-wagging, two-toned Schnoodle. (Despite DH's best efforts, she had insisted on curling up against the nursery walls as he painted them. Blue is a good color on her.)
Back in his own crib, Bean has been slow to reduce the number of his nighttime wakings, unfortunately. I know he's not the worst sleeper in the world -- as that distinction surely belongs to this child and his poor parents -- but it seems like he's gotta be on the top 100 list. When we were at the pediatrician's office on Tuesday to get him the other half of his flu shot (during which he didn't even frown, the little hero), I asked the nurse if the doctor could pop in to check him out to make sure there is no physical reason for this waking. She examined him and declared him healthy. "Knowing about his picky eating habits too, I'd say he's just a stubborn baby. He is taking his time adjusting from the trip," she told me. Stubborn, huh? Is that an official diagnosis? Medical school must be grueling. Anyway, I'm glad to know he's okay, but that is little comfort when he wakes up for the fourth time at 3 am. I guess it was just too much to hope for that she would be able to magically find and solve the issue. ("Oh look! He just needs his armpit tickled four times and then he'll be sleeping through the night.") Really the one to blame is DH. In talking with both our sets of parents on our trip, it's obvious who Bean takes after. I guess I should have been more specific when I asked God to make our son like his daddy. Big heart and sense of humor: yes. Challenging childhood behavior and inability to throw away old post-it notes: no.
On the bright side, Bean slept a five-hour stretch on both Tuesday and Thursday nights, so I'm hoping we are on a positive trend. And to make up for his nightly torturing, he has been the sweetest little buddy during the day. He smiles, babbles, and cuddles with me; he giggles admiringly at all my jokes. He is such a happy creature -- if only he'd stay that way forever, I'd be one satisfied mama.
We've jumped right back into the swing of things this week. Wednesday was preschool and yesterday I attended a playdate/babywearing presentation with the LLL group. I discovered there is one more carrier that I need. Okay, fine, I'll admit, this is just one I want. And I'll probably just suffer interminably without it, as DH has threatened to take me to a doctor to get help for what he deems an addiction. Whatever. I can quit whenever I want to.
We've also been expanding Bean's food repertoire -- or at least attempting to. I was thrilled that he's eating yogurt for breakfast, but now he's started gagging on sweet potatoes, previously his favorite of the Gerber variety. *sigh* As far as eating "table" food, that's predictably going as well as Ron Paul's presidential campaign. I gave him barely a scrape of my banana, and he barfed it up. Then he spent the rest of the time squishing the cut-up squares in his fist so they popped out between his fingers. And last night we gave him three tiny pieces of cous cous. (For those of you unfamiliar, one cous cous is about a tenth the size of a grain of rice and has no taste.) He gagged and barfed until all three were completely out of his mouth. *double sigh* Meanwhile, who is NOT having trouble with solid food is Evey Louise. Last night right after dinner, I took the cous cous eschewing baby up to bed and DH went to the bathroom before doing the dishes. When he emerged, he found the dog STANDING ON OUR GLASS KITCHEN TABLE, having just consumed the leftover chicken, peas, and cous cous. Apparently she figured out how to jump on the chairs to get up. *triple sigh* I guess she can't wait for Bean to be old enough to pass his veggies to her under the table, she'd prefer to start now, thank you very much.
I almost forgot to note that as of November 8, we have been living in Seattle for one year. ONE YEAR! And much to my surprise, not only do I love it, but it already feels like home. I feel totally comfortable leaving my underwear on the bedroom floor and not using a coaster on the coffee table. Landing at Seatac on Saturday, my heart was at ease seeing the mountains and evergreens. I still miss our family and friends, and yes, it can be tiresome driving at highway speeds so slow they would get you shot in Detroit. But this is definitely the most beautiful place we have lived. Every time we drive somewhere together (and yes I mean every time), DH gestures to the rolling foothills of the Cascades or the towering Mt. Rainier and asks, "Can you believe we live here?" In a word: No!
In memoriam. I would like to bid a fond farewell to one of my favorite TV shows, Pushing Daisies. I don't watch much television anymore, but I faithfully DVR this show every week. Yesterday, while I was enjoying this week's episode, ABC was cruelly ripping it from their lineup. Yep, ironically it will be pushing up some daisies of its own. A sort of Columbo-meets-Gilmore Girls, the visual style of the show was so colorful and unique! I'm devastated that I'll never know what happens to the Ned the pie maker, who can bring people back from the dead with a simple touch. Does he ever get to be with his true love, Charlotte? And who murdered her on that cruise ship (before Ned brought her back to life, of course)? Was it the mysterious man looking for Charlotte's dad's old pocket watch? So many questions unanswered. This is why I stopped watching Lost. At least I still have Psych and Monk coming back in January. Right? *gulp*