Since Hubby went back to work today, I took both overnight feedings last night so he could get extra sleep. Here is what my house sounds like at 3am:

GRUNT GRUNT GRUNT whiiiiiine. Baba O’Riley wakes up for 3am feeding. Grunt grunt BUUUUUURP. Baba O’Riley takes first 2 ounces in .3 seconds. I consider whether I can turn his eating speed into a NASCAR career or similar speed-timed event.

MEOOOOOW MEOOOOOOW RWOOOOOOR MEOOOOOOW. Psycho cat who is on The Good Drugs is awake and yowling again. I coax him back into bed next to me so he’ll fall asleep and hush up already.

Clickity clack clickity clack. Gshlorp gshlorp gshlorp. CLANK clang CLANG clang. Gshlorp gshlorp. Logan the wonder pooch, who is on laxative AND prednisone, wakes up and taps his toenails over to the water dish for a drink that lasts about 3 and a half minutes straight. Added bonus: the dish is ceramic and keeps the water nice and cool, but his tags bounce of the side like he’s ringing handbells while he drinks. It’s like a trolley driving through the bedroom. A drinking trolley.

BUUUUUUUUUUURP. After being held upright for 5 minutes, Baba lets out a ginormous belch.

YAAAWN. That would be me.

MOMMMMMAAAA MOOOOOMMMMMMAAA. Freebird wakes up halfway, and Hubby gets up to resettle him. Soft reset - only requires re-nuk-ing (aka re-administration of pacifier), and no removal from the crib (which we call a “hard reset.")

WHINE! WHINE! thump thump SHRIIEK! Baba O’Riley strenuously objects to having his diaper changed. He HATES having his pants changed.

PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBT. *grunt* PBBBBBBPPPLLRRRRRT. Baba O’Riley takes an enormous, stanky, explosive dump. He very much enjoys fouling a brand new diaper. He’s got mad skills. Sometimes I haven’t even walked back into our bedroom before his arse a-splodes in the pristine diaper he’s worn for less than 30 seconds.

Gulp Gulp Gulp Gulp Gulp. Baba finishes his bottle.

BRAAAAAAAAARP. Baba finishes his burping. Sometimes there’s a prize. Sometimes I have to change my pajamas from the magnitude of the prize.

ZZZzzzzzzz. Baba, Hubby, Psycho Cat, Logan and I all fall back asleep. Finally.

Baba O’Riley:

- does NOT like to sit in a poopy diaper.

- will poop as SOON as you put a fresh diaper on his little tiny tush.

- has the smallest tush I’ve ever seen.

- loves to nap while laying on someone’s chest, preferably mine.

- will not sleep unless his head is covered.

Freebird:

- likes to say hi to The Baby before he goes to school.

- invited The Baby to sit next to him while he had his dinner: “Come Sit Baby!”

- went animal hunting in his crib last night: “Lion, where are you? RAAAAAAR! Sheep, where are you? BAAAAAAAAA! Monkey where are you? OOH OOH AAH AAH”

- loves to sing songs in the car, and does a mean “itsy bitsy spider” routine.

- is awesome.

Last night we were trying to tire out the Bird by letting him run around the back yard, and he did that thing where Hubby tries to grab his arm to take his hand, and Freebird throws himself backwards and twists around and- pop - he dislocated his elbow again. It hadn’t happened in awhile but Hubby immediately knew it was dislocated again.

So we went inside, I had Hubby hold the Bird, and I did the thing with his arm and popped it back into place. Good as new. He immediately stopped crying and we got him “Cold Bear” who has big ice pads for paws (Hubby calls him “Steven Cold Bear” heh heh) and let Freebird hold Cold Bear on his arm. Then we went to bed.

Next crisis? I broke the dryer. Now the dryer is from 1980. No lie. We have the receipt in the info from the previous owners. 1980. That dryer is nearly as old as we are. But I was having a contraction last night when I was unloading the wash, and I leaned down on the door and broke the hinge. Now it won’t run unless you hold the door shut, and while we could probably make it work with duct tape, the dryer, it is old as the hills. And we are the hills, apparently.

So maybe today I’ll go out dryer shopping. I’m pissed I can’t order one on Amazon and get Prime shipping. Grumble grumble.

This weekend, we had the fluctuating fever of the toddler, and the much watching of the tv. We watched every Wiggles episode on the DVR, plus some Blue’s Clues, and then, I did something I didn’t think I’d EVER do: I fired up Barney off the On Demand kids channel. Freaking Barney. Freebird was THRILLED. I felt like a horrible parent. I mean, I’ve said before that Barney isn’t as horrible as other kids shows I don’t like in the least (*koffkoff* Calliou *koff*) but still. It’s a big purple dinosaur whining his way through half an hour in my living room.

But then, I did notice: Barney is not half as objectionable as the fact that the Wiggles are designated by some evil power as capable only of writing songs that will immediately glue themselves to your brain and Will NOT LET GO. Hubby and I have been beating each other all weekend trying to get “My Dog Wags” and “Henry the Octopus” out of our heads.

Of course, this is STILL better than the “Emily Yeung” theme song, which will take up residence in your ears and never leave no matter what you do. If children’s songs were poker hands, we’d have:

When Freebird bursts into song, he usually sings the same one a few times, and today: The Itsy Bitsy Spider. Or the Eensy Weensy Spider? I’ve heard it multiple ways. But now?! PIXBURG STAHLE!

De’ itsy bitsy spahder
Wennup de waahter spaaht.
Dahn came Lorraine
And Worshed de Spahder Aht!
Up came de’ sun
and drahd aht ol’ Lorraine
And de’ itsy bitsy spahder
Wennup de Spaaht agin! 

Back at my old site, I used to write a lot of entries to Freebird, usually monthly letters about how amazing he is. Then I stopped because dude. Children? Keep you busy.

So the pressure of letters to Freebird got to be too much, and while I do handwrite (YES HANDWRITE) a letter on his birthday, I stopped blogging letters. Really, I have to say, part of it is pressure on myself, and part of it is my general feeling of discomfort about revealing too much about my son online.

But - it’s time for a more manageable and yet not too revealing option: Top 10 Things about Freebird at 21 Months

Hubby and I have been talking with Freebird a lot about the “baby.” So far, Freebird knows that my belly has a baby, and that the baby is probably somewhere in my belly button. Hubby also has a belly button but obviously doesn’t have a baby behind it. Freebird will pat the baby in my belly, and will kiss my belly, but I don’t think he realizes that the baby is going to (a) not live in there forever and (b) will be moving in with us.

Last night I was talking with Freebird while had dinner about the word “brother,” since Freebird will be a “big brother,” and the baby will be “small” and “little,” and being a “big brother” is an important job, etc etc. Freebird happily repeated the words “big brother” and “brother,” and then said, “Baby with yogurt?”

This stumped me until I realized that Freebird’s favorite brand of yogurt is “Yo Baby.” And while we’ve been talking about the baby, Freebird apparently thinks we’re talking about yogurt. A lot of yogurt will be moving into the house, apparently. I hope the yogurt will let us sleep in longer than 2-hour intervals.