I say "thingy" a lot. Patrick has started saying "thingy." It amuses me. He also asks me to plug things out (rather than unplug), and when he's looking for something, he says, "[Object/Person], WHERE ARE YOU?" I think that one's cute.
+++
Patrick has always been a pretty good sleeper, at least after about the first three months, which I think I may have blocked out. I know at four months he was only waking up once, which counts as winning in my book. Anyway, this makes it difficult when he has stretches of not sleeping as well. This week, he has been waking up every morning at 3 a.m. He goes back to sleep after a while but once got up for good at 5:45 and today (SATURDAY) he was ready to go at 7. Prior to this week, he would regularly sleep until 8:30, when I sometimes had to wake him up. So I'm hopeful this is just a phase.
This morning, at 3, when he woke up (I headed toward his room and found him sitting with his blankie three stairs from the top, whimpering), he wanted to go to the kitchen and get some juice. I put him down by the door so he could look out the window at the moon, since I'd tried unsuccessfully to convince him yesterday that it was still nighttime when the moon was out (heh). This time, he said: "Mommy, LOOK! The moon is out! It's bright! It's not behind the trees! It's pretty. I like it. ... Can we go in the living room and turn on the TV and watch the monkey?"
Full disclosure: I have given in to that one before, but I didn't this time. He got his juice and went back to sleep.
+++
Patrick is not so much potty trained these days as he is housebroken. He likes to relieve himself on the deck. It's better than his pants, but it's not exactly ideal. And yes, I know it's totally our fault for telling him if he was playing outside and didn't want to come in, he could go peepee outside. Still, it's better than going in his pants. Hopefully he'll make the transition to the potty when it gets cold outside...
+++
I had a dentist appointment on Wednesday. For those of you who don't know me, I have an actual phobia about the dentist. I know nobody (or at least most people) particularly likes going to the dentist, but there have been years when I have avoided it because I have this irrational fear about it. Anyway I've been going to this same dentist for about four years now (...sporadically) so I guess it's as close as I going to get to a dentist I like. I had an appointment in January, which I had postponed from November, as we were in Ireland at the time. You may recall that in January, I (thought I) was (still) pregnant. My OB had said it was fine to go to the dentist. In fact, they encouraged it, because babies leech calcium and such from teeth. So off I went. My dentist freaked.
"Well, they might tell them in medical school that it's okay, but they tell us in dental school it's not okay to see patients in the first or third trimester," the hygienist said. Now, I have heard you're not supposed to get work done, but it was just a cleaning. I had the okay from the OB. My dentist asked if I could get something faxed over; I did. They still wouldn't clean my teeth. It was supremely frustrating because I'd actually kept this appointment, which is a big deal to me, and then they were going to make me come back. In a week. Because in a week it would be okay. So, fine, whatever, I rescheduled.
And then I ended up in the ER the day before my rescheduled appointment. I suppose technically I was out of the hospital by the time my appointment rolled around but yeah ... no way was I going there. They were very understanding. I was further annoyed (irrationally) about the postponement because the baby, it turns out, had already died, so they could have cleaned my damn teeth after all.
Patrick is two and a half today. People keep telling me I need to provide him a sibling. This is what I get for not telling people I was pregnant last year. It turns out I tend to agree with these people, but I am really starting to get tired of hearing it. If it had gone as (I) planned, Patrick would be a big brother in one month's time. Of course, he's perfectly happy to still be an only, and as James pointed out, I wouldn't want to be pregnant in this heat. Which is true, but I'd rather be pregnant in this heat than not. ANYWAY.
Patrick is wearing big boy undies (almost) full-time now. He's a smart kid, and he figured that he could just go in his pull-ups, so he did. Thus, no more pull-ups. This unfortunately means way more laundry but on the other hand, no more diapers to buy. I wouldn't be doing this yet (probably) except he seems to be 95% potty trained at daycare. His teacher told me this morning that while they were outside on the playground last week, Patrick decided he had to go, so he ... went. On the playground. This is my/our fault. If he's outside, I tell him to drop his pants and go. I figure if he's able to identify the urge, that counts for me. Plus, his 4-year-old buddy next door goes in the woods. Sorry about that, Patrick, hope you didn't get into too much trouble at daycare.
Patrick made me coffee last night in the bathtub. He poured it from one container to the other and then he gave us both a cup, but he cautioned me that it was hot, and then he took a sip anyway and yelped that he burned his tongue. Then he made me take a sip. I'm not quite sure what to make of this child. Ha.
