Heading Into the Homestretch of Two-ness Means Lots of Screams, Tears and Headaches, (And That's Just From Me)

Well, welcome to the newest episode of “Baby Brigid: Unhinged.” We have had a dramatic change in temperament the last couple of weeks, some of which I wrote off to my being away for four days, but that can’t be the explanation for all of it. Brigid has become very contrary. Except when she’s not. She’ll scream, I mean really, really scream to the point where I think it must be hurting her throat. And then she’ll say something cute and calm like it’s all part of the same sentence. She shrieks if she doesn’t get her way, and collapses in a ball at my feet. She’ll come up for a hug and then start screaming in my ears, but if she is in the middle of a melt-down, she wants to be wrapped up in my arms. She doesn’t want to be put down, but she doesn’t want me to hold her. She wants no one but Ba-det except when she wants me. All this two weeks before she turns two. Don’t know if there’s a connection. I’m just saying.

I took the girls to the Ground Round last night for a quick dinner before the older two had tap class. No such thing as a quick dinner with an unhinged Brigid. She was a tyrant, screaming and shrieking, sometimes with tears, sometimes without. I became unhinged and took her out of the high chair, told Margaret and Patricia to order something and went out with Brigid. She wanted to get down and run around, but it was busy, so my saying “No” only brought on a new onslaught of screaming and temper. When her mac and cheese and grapes finally arrived, she ate them like she had just come off a hunger strike. She shoveled it in and sat very pleasantly, no memory of the demon baby she had been only moments before. I managed to get in a crock of soup, some of which she ate, too. But as soon as she was finished, she set off again. It was a good thing we were on a time schedule, and I had to get the girls to tap. It made for a great fast get-away. But once we were at tap, she continued her monstrous ways, screaming because she couldn’t go out into the studio. The waiting room at the studio is very cramped; it’s all of 15 feel long by about six feet wide, so there’s no where to walk, but Brigid insisted on walking back and forth, forcing all the parents who were sitting on the benches along the walls to pull in their feet every time we passed by. Then she’d scream at one end of the room, only to calm down long enough to get to the other end for another scream and shriek. She wanted Ba-det, who was tapping her heart out all the while hearing her baby sister causing such a ruckus. It’s no wonder I rarely go over to wait for the girls while they have class. Brigid makes it a marathon at the end of which I’m exhausted, and I haven’t even donned a pair of tap shoes. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go to bed. When we got home, a little after 7:30, she was raring to go. I gave her a bath in the new “big tub” downstairs, and she wanted to watch “Nemo” after, which we did. When it was 9 p.m. I said enough and got her comfortable on the big chair in her room. She was definitely ready to go to bed after a little nursing and she put up minimal protest when I put her in the crib. I was exhausted by the sheer force of nature that is our Brigid. Neither Jack nor I recall the other two being so volatile when they were this age. There are eggshells all over the floors of our house, and we’re getting very good at trodding on them as gently as we can.

Absence Does Indeed Make the Heart Grow Fonder

Well, the commotion caused by the chair fire (or chair smolder) has died down. Insurance companies are battling it out (our tenant's and ours) over who pays what. But it's being taken care of. The cleaning guy has a big air purifier fan in the tenant's side to get the putrid smell out of the air, and they'll replace the carpeting. So all's well in mudville.

I just returned from four days out of town on my scrapbook retreat in New Jersey, so it was a nice homecoming last night when I got home. Margaret and Patricia were still up so I was able to greet them, and they were very happy to have me home. Four days at home with Brigid really took their toll on them. It was Jack's birthday, so I was able to be home to raise a glass of wine, wish him happy birthday and sit down for some Oscar watching. Don't know why ... we haven't seen any of the nominated films. We did see the best actress winner in "La Vie en Rose," and she was deserving. Great film.

But Brigid was already in bed when I got home. I didn't want to chance waking her up by going in an looking at her in her crib, so I just waited for the inevitable middle-of-the-night wake-up, which came about 3 a.m. I jumped out of bed (I was very anxious to wrap my arms around my Baby B) and went into her room. She had been crying generically and when she saw me, her voice raised and she cried out, "Mommy! Mommy!" That was enough to reduce me to tears of happiness. I scooped her up in my arms and she put her face on mine and wrapped her arms around my neck. She then snuggled down on my shoulder and when I climbed into our bed with her, she had a sleepy smile on her face. All was right with the world again. She seemed so relieved and relaxed, she kept reaching over and touching me, as if to reassure herself that I was indeed back. It was great to get away, to go to be with "my people," 300 like-minded women who look forward to these retreats to work on scrapbooks and socialize, but boy, it was wonderful to crawl into my own bed and to hear that joy when Brigid said, "Mommy! Mommy!" Did my heart good.

Jack had the girls to himself those days, and although the baby was out of sorts, he said it wasn't as bad as we both had feared. Both Margaret and Patricia put in exemplary efforts and pitched in to help. I think they were sick of it by the time I got home, but they were great. Couldn't have done it without them. Jack said over the weekend that Brigid would be a little weepier than usual, that she had odd napping and waking schedules, but he was able to get her back to sleep sans boob, so that's encouraging, especially as we look ahead at weaning. And if she didn't have boob last night, I think Brigid would have been equally happy to just drift back off with me by her side. I got nearly 30 pages down at the SDV, but my best would have been if I'd had taken a picture of Brigid in her crib when I walked in her door. It's good to be home.

It's My Birthday and He'll Limp if He Wants To

Well, the blog made the Google alert for the college when yesterday I mentioned Brigid's run-in with Burghy. My colleague, who subscribes to the alert, let me know my blog made it. Alerts keep an eye out for key words, in this case, the name of the college.

Yesterday we all went out to Applebee's for dinner to celebrate my birthday, which is today, and Margaret's glowing report card. It was cold, cold, cold last night. And it was cold in the restaurant, too. We had a great meal, although Brigid was a little fidgety and fussy, even after eating two (!) hot dogs. We decided we'd go over to the mall to visit Border's and walk around a little because it was still pretty early, even for a school night. Margaret and Patricia were walking ahead in the parking lot, Jack had Brigid on his shoulders and I was bringing up the rear pushing the stroller when we all kind of started to jog to get into the mall faster (remember, it was cold). Well, we're trotting along when all of the sudden, I saw Jack take a bad step. He didn't trip and his foot didn't slip. He just had a sudden and immediate reaction to pain and took a couple limping steps. I helped get the baby off his shoulders and he said he felt something snap in his calf. We managed to get into the mall and out of the cold and got him to sit down on a bench. His calf was painful when he put weight onto the leg. He said he wasn't going to be able to walk around the mall but needed to use the rest room in Border's. As we headed into the store (right next to the mall entrance) he suggested he go to the emergency room. Now, for anyone who knows Jack and knows if he were to suggest going to the ER, something really must be amiss. So I wasted no time bringing the car around and getting girls back in. We dropped them off at the house. Brigid seemed perfectly happy to go along with her sisters, who were going to get her in her PJs and put on a movie for the three of them to watch. I brought Jack over to the ER, expecting a long, drawn-out procedure. But they sent us over to fast track after initial triage.

We were taken right away for vitals, and they found a room for him. I had been pushing him in the wheelchair because it was that painful for him. Good thing, because when we were finally seen, they determined he had a pretty bad pull and gave him crutches to stay off his feet. He needs to be re-evaluated at the end of the week if the pain hasn't subsided.

He managed to get in the house and we elevated his leg, iced it and had him rest. He's off today, but he's gimping around after the baby. We're supposed to get a pretty good storm tonight, so we're hoping it's another snow day if only for the help and respite the two other girls at home would give. He teaches tomorrow, so we'll have to figure out how to get him to class (I'll drive him) if classes aren't cancelled on campus.

Brigid, meantime, cooperated beautifully by sleeping through the night, waking up about 6:30, which was fine because I had to get up this morning to get the girls off to school (usually what Jack takes care of while I have the baby in bed). BB didn't go back to sleep, so she was up earlier than normal, but she was in a good mood. That's always a plus. But by lunchtime, Daddy reported that she already figured out she's faster than he is with the crutches and made it to the cat's food and water dishes twice before being hauled away. She's nothing if not persistent.

Being Clingy Means 'I Love You' (Or, 'I'm Scared of a College Kid in a Cardinal Suit')

Baby B has shown she wants what she wants when she wants it. This happens often in the wee hours of the morning when she wakes and wants to nurse – all night long. This morning was no exception. She had a meltdown, actually, and we had to toss her back into her crib. She flails her arms and kicks her feet and screams. It’s a good thing we’re on the first floor or she’d wake up the whole house. I think she’s only half awake and is having some kind of night terror or something because it is startling. Of course, this only happens when I cut her off from the old feed bag. I shudder to think what Daddy is going to do when I’m out of town next week for three mornings.

She has been communicating more and more in longer sentences. I’ll ask, “Do you want me to help you?” and she’ll say, “Me help you?” which, of course, means, “Will you help me.” I know, it’s twisted, but she’ll get the personal pronouns down later. She’ll say, “What are you doing?” perfectly clear and with proper inflection. She’ll say, “What did you do?” and “Are you OK?” It’s funny, but these phrases are the ones I use most often on her.

She is a mimic and repeats just about anything you say to her, and you can see her mind working, figuring out how to pronounce something. When she says something, she looks at you as if to say, “Did I say it right?” and if you repeat it, she tries even harder to “say it right.” Ba-det and Ma-get are still the same, but she’s losing some of her early pronunciations for more sophisticated and correct ones. That’s too bad, really, because baby speak is so darned cute. She still says “A-tee” or “A-tay” for OK, and that’s very cute.

One stage she is still in is uberclingy. If she sees me or knows I’m near, she’ll cry for me endlessly. On Saturday, Jack was taking her out to the car so I could drive the girls and their friend, Emma, to Emma’s house. I was in the car; I was three feet away from her. But she sobbed uncontrollably all the way up, calling and reaching out for me. I took her out of the seat when we got there and she slowly returned to normal breathing with the occasional hiccup only to get beside herself again when I put her back in the seat for the drive home. She finally calmed down enough to breathe when I said we were going out to get a hot dog. She comes running for me whenever she’s had a bump or boo boo. But if I’m not around or she doesn’t see me, she’s content to be with Daddy or either of the girls. I have to sneak out the door in the morning on my way to work so Jack won’t have a shrieking, screaming toddler on his hands.


Patricia has been doing very well on her New Year’s resolution to eat well and exercise, something she decided on her own. Additionally, on Friday, she participated in a jump for heart fundraiser to benefit the American Heart Association. She raised $79 in pledges for her participation. (sorry for the photo quality. Combination of low light, slow camera and Brigid in my arms hindered the photography attempt).

In addition, Brigid got to meet Plattsburgh State’s mascot, Burghy, whom she dubbed “Big Bird” (no relation to Sesame Street’s resident large avian resident). But every time she got close enough, she started to cling and say, “No, no, NO,” usually digging her fingers into the fleshy part of my arm. But she was intrigued nonetheless and said over and over that she wanted “to see the Big Bird.” And I’d ask, “Do you want to see the big bird?” “A-tay!” So we’d walk up to it (or as up to as we could get) and she’d start her NO NO NO! again. Ah, well, some things are best admired from a distance.

Wish I Was as Wise as My 10-Year-Old

Well, our Miss Brigid decided last night was a good one to wake up every hour and a half or so and be very, very agitated and disagreeable. She woke up first around midnight. I sat with her and she fell back to sleep on my shoulder in the big chair in her room. I made a successful transfer to the crib and dropped into bed myself. An hour and a half later, she was crying, sobbing. I went in and got her and brought her back in with us if only to get some more sleep. But she’d have none of it. She was angry and fitful and swung her fists around so that both Jack and I were getting clocked. I told her to either settle down or she’d go back to the crib. She didn’t do the former so she ended up in the latter. She slept another couple of hours and was back up again, “MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!” Jack brought her in, and we had another go ‘round, although not quite so dramatically intense as earlier in the night. She ended up getting up earlier than normal, but was in a pretty good mood when I left for work.

She has had a runny nose of late and has taken to nose mining, signifying to me that she’s got something she can’t get out. I’m hoping, now that it seems to be moving, that whatever it is that’s causing her to stick those little digits up there will roll with the flow.

She may also be out of whack from three days in a row without a nap. Now that we’re back to a regular schedule – the weekend always throws us off – I’m hoping she’ll get back into a nap schedule. I don’t know what they’re going to do with her at Sibley at the end of March. Jack always has to do a whole routine to get her to go to sleep for her nap. They won’t walk around with her in the slingee until she drops off. They’ll just tell her to get on her cot and stay there. I’d like to buy tickets to see that. And if she does comply, I’d like to know how they do it so we can do it at home.

Margaret fared very well this quarter with her report card. We never doubted she would, but it’s nice to see in black and white. With the exception of gym, where she was given an A, she’s straight A-pluses again. She even got an A-plus in swim. This from a girl who until last summer wouldn’t, even when bribed with Harry Potter videos, jump in anything – pool, lake, slightly deep tub. She just decided last summer at the lake that she was going to do it. And now, just like I told her lo these many years ago, she didn’t know what she was missing. And that’s why she got the A-plus. Now, she’ll be able to get out of the Guppy class at the YMCA swim program.

Patricia is going to be jump-roping her way to a healthy heart on Thursday. Her school is sponsoring a jump-rope fund-raiser for the American Heart Association. She’s collected pledges (blog readers, it’s not too late to pledge, then send, her some dough) and will jump rope after school with her friends. She’s very excited to be doing this. It makes for a much better project than those fund-raising catalogs filled with overpriced junk nobody wants or can use. I hope to be there to take some photos that I will post later.

Patricia in general has been very careful about what she eats and has gone to the Y with Jack whenever she has the chance. Of course, she works hard at tap and jazz, too. She made a New Year’s resolution to be healthy. She didn’t mention weight; she didn’t mention diet. She just wants to eat right and exercise. And that, my friends, is the way to do it. Too bad I didn’t have her head on my shoulders when I was 10.

The photo, btw, is of the intrepid astronaut, Brigid, on her way out to do the first one-footed moon landing by a woman or anyone else for that matter.