First Day 2: No more milk for Matthew.
I started this Saturday night (Day 1), but then last night (Sunday) we got home from my sister's house around 10pm, so falling asleep with one bottle was not an issue.
Tonight he had a small (4oz as opposed to 8) bottle and was done with it before I even went downstairs. Normally this spells disaster. Tonight he didn't cry. I even sat on the steps for a while, and he didn't make a sound. Then it started...and it hasn't stopped. "Be quiet, Matthew..." "Go to sleep, Matthew..." "You're okay, Matthew..." The mantras continue. Now I hear him stomping in his crib...teehee. He's quite mad.
I finally went downstairs and got my netbook; it has a better wireless connection to the house than my phone does to any tower sitting here on the landing to the third floor. I get back upstairs, settle in with my computer and a nice, large jar of my new Lipton Half and Half (half iced tea, half lemonade), and what do I do? Yup, I breathed in a bug. A tiny, TINY noseeum fly thing. Yes, that works well: hack HHHAACK "go to --" couuugh "-- sleep, Matthew --" coooooough "-- you're --" hack "-- okay, Matthew." Does wonders for getting them to forget you're there. It's amazing how. much. havoc. one tiny being that isn't supposed to be in your airways can wreak.
My throat-spazzing seems to be winding down. And so does he. Somewhat. Amid wails and "maamaaaa"s and the guilt-ridden sobbing-breaths.
I. WILL. BE. STRONG. The first night was lucky. It was new, a novelty. He didn't know what to expect. Now he's ready for the fight. So am I. (No matter how many comments I hear from the second floor that I assume are about his noise. I should've turned off the monitor in my bedroom. Oh, well. Deal.)
Second Day 2: The 30-day challenge.
Today's challenge was to post a picture of something you've eaten today. (Which, if you think about it, is gross. If you take a picture of what you've already eaten...oh, dear. I will be posting a picture of what was left in the pan.)
Tonight I made chow mein, Grammy-style. I've never actually eaten real Chinese-food chow mein. My grandmother was Pennsylvania Dutch, where everything is made and put together in one pot, so I don't know if she ever had real chow mein either. But this is how I grew up eating it.
I had to tilt the pan up to get the light to shine on it (lighting in my kitchen is an ongoing issue) so it's not the easiest to see. But chow mein - in the house of my youth, anyway - is hamburger, rice, celery, and onion. Then you sprinkle soy sauce over it when it's on your plate.
And, because I have always had to, my rice always gets butter and cinnamon sugar. Even when mixed with other things, like hamburger/tomato sauce or creamed tuna. In the famed words of Joanne and Maureen, "Take me, baby, or leave me."
And, because hubby is out tonight, and his "out" includes dinner, I actually had enough to take out lunch for him tomorrow, LOTS for me, and plenty left for the in-laws. Matthew liked it, and Morgan tolerated a few bites of it before trading it for a hot dog, and Elijah had fallen asleep on the couch so I just made him chicken nuggets, knowing the argument that would ensue. (He doesn't always wake up well.) Unfortunately, when Morgan shrieked from the kitchen (I thought she'd sliced an appendage off or something), and we all ran in (we'd been eating in the living room, where it's much cooler) to find that a rather substantial family of fruit flies had found her juice...we learned that Bailey liked the chow mein, too. (Grrr. But our fault for leaving it there. I just went ahead and decided dinner was over - time for dessert!)
So hubby has now called and said he's on his way home. Thankfully, I had the forethought to put the phone on vibrate, so I just answered it and then tried to get down the creaky stairs as quickly as possible before starting to talk. Little Boy has stopped fussing and has been quiet except for the random post-good-cry breathing. The Girl can now fall asleep peacefully, after several trips out into the hallway to complain about Matthew (note to self: go over with Morgan again the reason for letting Matthew cry it out, and apologize profusely; reconsider idea to let her fall asleep in my bed). I can go downstairs and feed the very, very patient puppy dog. He's so good. I will spend a few minutes in the living room with him, and I will probably get caught up in reading some wonderful blog or other, and will not actually be in bed by the time Hubby gets home. Maybe. There's a first time for everything.