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I will miss these sorts of exchanges when DB gains full command of English.

DB:  I help you fold the laundry.
Me:  You’re going to help me?  Can you match the socks?
DB:  I [mumble that sounds pretty close to "match"] the socks.
Me:  Here, do you know how to put them in pairs?
DB: [Puts his hand on the pile of socks, mashes it down.]  I smash the socks.

He then assumes the satisfied air of one who has said to himself, “my work here is done!”  And leaves the room.  (Gosh, mommy, why does it take YOU so long to fold the laundry?  I knocked that job out in seconds!)

My apologies to Barenaked Ladies for copping their song title for this post.  How crazy is this:  I have an alarm clock (hooray for cell phones) to alert me when it’s time to go to bed.  Even with the alarm, it’s rare for me to get to sleep early enough to log a full eight hours before the other alarm clock wakes me up.  Why can’t I go to bed?  I stay up reading even as my eyes blur and get sticky.  I start a complex organizing project at 10:30, or decide at 11:15 that I really need a meal.  And I pay for it the next morning (or evening, more likely, when I have no patience for DB when he wants “the pretty airplane book” read six times in a row, or when he makes me chase him around the interior of the car as I’m trying to get us into the house to eat supper).  I’m not some supple college student anymore; I need my sleep!

DB never wants to go to bed either.  “I not go to bed,” he says, looking up at me earnestly with eyes wide (perhaps to demonstrate how not-tired he is).  He doesn’t want to miss anything, and I don’t blame him.  “Play with toys” is fun; “go to sweep” is not.  But ultimately, he goes peacefully.  I’d love to think it’s because he is still young and uncorrupted enough to listen to his body, so I’m just gonna go with that.  (I’m too tired to come up with a better explanation anyway.)

So what’s my excuse for ignoring what my body is clearly telling me (I did mention ”sticky eyes”)?  Certainly not that I’m going to miss something.  My books and crossword puzzles – these are frequent indulgences – will not go away when I set them down.  Nor is there any danger of my organizing projects disappearing overnight, unless you count the nonzero probability that the piles should topple.  There’s nothing I watch on TV that can’t be obtained on the internet a day or two later.  I think the problem is that I like having time to do whatever I want, without the requirement of being productive.  After DB goes to bed, I still have chores and paperwork to do.  If I’m disciplined enough to postpone my leisure activities until my work is done, I still want to squeeze in that me-time even if it’s late.  Going to bed – even though it’s far more beneficial than staying up to read a semi-trashy women’s magazine – doesn’t count.

No pithy quote or neatly-turned summary phrase here.  I’m still trying to figure this one out.  Any other solo parents reading this?  How do you balance personal time and sleep?

DB is thrilled with his accomplishment.  What is it?  GOT YOUR NOSE!  Oh, joy.  His fine motor control is now developed enough that he can pretend to nab the nose off someone’s face.  It’s taken him several days of practice with Grandma and Grandpa to master this finger-thumb configuration on his own, with both hands, and he is intensely proud of himself.  (I wish he’d spend as much time trying to figure out how to put on his pants.)  At the breakfast table he sits, hands spread, studying.  Folds the thumb in, closes the fist.  After a couple of false starts, where the thumb ends up either entirely in or entirely out, he gets it right.  “I did it!” he crows.   He calls it “nose knuckles.”

[Another cross-post from Arlington Kids.]

As critical to quality of life as rhythm, music, and a delectable dance partner? No. But there is good reason to check out the series of workbooks by UnXpected Development, LLC that are meant to help kids sort through their feelings, goals, and options as they grow and learn. Titles in the series include I’ve Got Feelings (about recognizing and dealing with emotions), I’ve Got a Choice (about considering consequences of your actions), I’ve Got a New Home (for coping with moving), and I’ve Got Plans (with an eye toward the future). There’s also an autograph book for kids called I’ve Got Friends.   More…

“I go to bed?  Indeed not,” said DB recently.  He’s two and eight months.  (Takes after his mother at that age, who when told “you’re a very smart little girl” by her family’s dinner guest, responded, “I realize that.”  It’s a wonder more parents don’t sprain their eyeballs from rolling them.)

We are currently reading The Little Engine That Could at least five times a day, and we have most of it memorized.  Instead of emulating the plucky Little Blue Engine who helps the poor marooned dolls and toys, however, or taking cues from the good little boys and girls on the other side of the mountain who are looking forward to eating their fruits and vegetables, DB has chosen to identify with the snooty stuck-up engine who won’t lend a hand.  “I, pull the likes of you?  Indeed not!”  I’m kind of impressed that he caught on to how to reuse that expression correctly, but kind of freaked out, too.  What other backtalk is lurking in his little mind?

My son is sassing me, 1950s style.  I daren’t let him see any reruns of Leave It To Beaver, lest he miss the message again and select Eddie Haskell as his role model.