Friday before last we went out to eat, just the four of us. (Because the two babysitters who called us back either aren't available weekends or can't arrive till roughly Liam's bedtime. I'm posting a new ad tomorrow.)
After Liam had fallen apart twice -- crying unconsolably, mouth wailing and wide so you could see what was left of the breadsticks -- and Marisa took him out twice . . . I strapped Charles into his car seat (causing him to cry -- he hates that thing), got to-go boxes, and we took them out. To the Putt-Putt next door, so Liam could crawl around a little.
Since that time, we've pretty much resolved that if we go out, it will be to Mickey D's or another place with a Playland. We've violated that once: the college cafeteria. Pretty disastrous there, too, both in terms of Liam's mood (mad as could be) and the rain of dropped Cheerios and flung food on the floor.
Meanwhile, Charles has entered a phase (It's just a phase. It's just a phase.) in which being more than 18" away from Marisa causes him to wail. He often wails anyway. This afternoon we gave up and put him in his crib; he cried for over an hour. (He's not sick: he smiles as soon as she's holding him again.)
In vain have we pointed out to him that human beings are not marsupials.
Marisa's getting very stressed, to the point of forgetfulness ("What was I saying?") and I'm trying to be home more, and that's not working too well; this is the busiest semester I have ever had in some 18 years teaching and more than that on the other end, and would be even if Charles and Liam were being totally cared for by a fairy godmother.
I don't mean to describe life as hellish. We're still having fun. But the stress level's in the red.
Night before last both of them slept through the entire night for the first time since Charles came.
And last night, Charles was up ever hour or so crying.
After Liam had fallen apart twice -- crying unconsolably, mouth wailing and wide so you could see what was left of the breadsticks -- and Marisa took him out twice . . . I strapped Charles into his car seat (causing him to cry -- he hates that thing), got to-go boxes, and we took them out. To the Putt-Putt next door, so Liam could crawl around a little.
Since that time, we've pretty much resolved that if we go out, it will be to Mickey D's or another place with a Playland. We've violated that once: the college cafeteria. Pretty disastrous there, too, both in terms of Liam's mood (mad as could be) and the rain of dropped Cheerios and flung food on the floor.
Meanwhile, Charles has entered a phase (It's just a phase. It's just a phase.) in which being more than 18" away from Marisa causes him to wail. He often wails anyway. This afternoon we gave up and put him in his crib; he cried for over an hour. (He's not sick: he smiles as soon as she's holding him again.)
In vain have we pointed out to him that human beings are not marsupials.
Marisa's getting very stressed, to the point of forgetfulness ("What was I saying?") and I'm trying to be home more, and that's not working too well; this is the busiest semester I have ever had in some 18 years teaching and more than that on the other end, and would be even if Charles and Liam were being totally cared for by a fairy godmother.
I don't mean to describe life as hellish. We're still having fun. But the stress level's in the red.
Night before last both of them slept through the entire night for the first time since Charles came.
And last night, Charles was up ever hour or so crying.