Saturday, February 28, 2009

Moo cows

So, after yet another night of tossing and turning on the behalf of our beloved mini monster something had to be done. This evening Steve and I finally packed up our milk bottles and headed to Worthington in search of Wilson Farms/Le-Ara Holsteins. We took probably the longest way there (my stupid idea) but we still made it in time to buy 2 gallons of fresh milk. This was made even more awesome by the fact that we didn't see anyone around when we got there and when we walked around the barn a bit and stumbled into one of the owners she led us through the barn where the cows were happily tucked in for the night. It was strangely awesome to see the actual cows that produced the milk that we purchased. And they had made it not even and hour before it was funneled into our jugs. Excellent. We hurridly brought it home to have a sample. Steve had never tried it and the closest I've had is raw goat milk and that was years and years ago. Finn even tried some cold and was licking his chomps afterwards (plus he got it for his bedtime drink slightly warmed up). Without a doubt, it's the best milk ever. Just slightly creamier than the store bought stuff and sooo much better for you. Want the facts? Go to I've been touting the facts of real milk to Steve for ages now but he just finally read the page and was thoroughly blown away. It's pretty astounding that they sell the pasturized-homogenized stuff at all.

Now we just need some chickens and a garden and we can commence to be crazy livin' off the land recluses.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Economic crisis

So, when Steve lost his job in Erie 8 months ago and couldn't find a new job in the area we packed our stuff and moved in with my parents. Steve found a great job in December and we've been trying to get our act together and get back on our feet. Then last month as I was having a heck of a time getting some pants on the boy, a sheriff showed up on the doorstep. I, of course, assumed it was some new antic of my brother that had brought him here. Instead I was served a foreclosure notice in my parents name. I was flabbergasted. How could my mom let them get so far behind that they would lose the house? Our house. The one solid place I've always been able to come back to. I have so many memories here. I know every little crack in the walls, every creak in the stairs, how to sneak in through the dining room window, and that the water from the bathroom sink faucet is far superior to the water from the kitchen sink. I've spent the past few summers enjoying all the hard work my dad has put into our pond. Helped raise several broods of ducks, helped trawl for the snapping turtle that ate the first few groups of ducks, and spent hours upon hours canoe-ing and then paddle boating around in lazy circles. And I had so hope for Finn to be able to spend some of his summer days here too. Teach him to roll down the big hill, to catch tadpoles and baby peep frogs. Now it might not happen at all. My parents got themselves a lawyer who has bought them two months before they have to move out. My mom spends her free time desperately searching for a rental property to move in to. They haven't rented since I was 3. That's how long they've been in this house. We were obviously planning on moving out (it's far too cramped here for all of us), but to suddenly have a's a bit overwhelming. And on top of that we have to get one of our cars fixed before we can even think of calling to take a look at a new place. What use is having a new place to live if we have no way to get us and our stuff there and no way for Steve to get to work from the new place? Ugh. After mom and dad move out of here I guess the house will be eventually put up for auction and they'll have a chance to buy back their own home. The lawyer assures them that if they buy it back it'll be at a much lower interest rate. But that of course is if they don't get outbid. How ridiculous is that? I'm so stressed and angry. Angry at the economy for being so shitty, angry at the mortgage company for being so heartless, angry at my mom for lying over and over again about how she had this "under control" and for spending hundreds of dollars of meaningless crap when the money was clearly needed elsewhere.

Deep breath.

So, yeah. That's the kind of junk we're dealing with these days. While it has been a great kick in the behind to find our own place, it's probably the worst situation ever.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Good-bye cold

Thankfully Finn slept through most of the night last night. Hallelujah. It was most unexpected after yesterday morning and his 90-minute screamfest. That was flipping awful. No matter what I did he just screamed, and screamed and screamed. Poor guy. But he's back to his normal, inquisitive, adventuresome self today. Yay!

Speaking of screaming, I mentioned in my last post that Finn had a rough time after getting vaxed last week. And so did we, not so much from Finn's crankiness, but from the way our beloved Dr. Barber (aka Dr. Tim Burton) acted during our check-up. I mentioned to him that we were curious as to what was making Finn toss and turn all night long. He asked me what our bedtime routine was (Finn gets a bath, has a bottle or cup of milk and either goes to sleep immediately afterwards or stays up for an hour or so and then he goes to bed), and upon hearing this I got scolded harshly. I was told that he's "looking" for the bottle in his sleep and that we should not give him one before bedtime. And when I mentioned that he's fine and completely still for naps when I snuggled with him to get him to sleep, I got scolded again and told I should be letting him get himself to sleep. That I'm coddling him and giving him too much attention. That if he should cry out at night I should just ignore it. I was beyond shocked. We are very anti-CIO (cry it out). Both Steve and I consider the practice child abuse. And to find out that Dr. Barber, a pediatric neurologist who is very pro-breastfeeding, pro-choice with vaccinating, is all about the CIO was just insane. And then when I talked to Finn (something along the lines of "Are you okay, bud?") when he fussed as the doctor examined him I got snapped at AGAIN. Dr. Barber said I was just perpetuating "his fake whining" and that I was going to make it worse by offering him comfort. Then when Finn burst into tears, the doctor actually handed me a specimen cup and told me to use it to save Finn's tears for later. I was livid by the time we left. My mom, who had accompanied us, was ready to have Barber's head on a stick. And to think just before the visit I had been sad because it would be our last visit to Dr. Barber because making the two hour drive is just ridiculous. Ugh. What a jerk-face he ended up being. I'm still peeved and it's a week later. I've been poking around trying to find a local pediatrician with a more natural approach to their practice, but so far the closest I've found is 45 minutes away. Sigh. And after this looooong bout of awfulness that Finn has gone through we will definitely not be vaxing our next wee one. Forget it. Never mind the chances of autism that vaxing has possibly been linked to, and the awful stuff in the vaccinations as well. I just don't care to have an insanely cranky baby for days on end.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Sick, sick, sick

Finn has been an entirely different guy this week. And not in a good way.
He got vaxed on Tuesday (more on this experience later) and we expected him to be grouchy afterwards for a day or so. Lucky us, he not only got grouchy but ran a fever. It was just slight at first, but by mid-day Thursday his temp was up to 100.7. Poor, poor little man. Plus, despite our efforts to get him to drink more liquids he still ended up constipated Friday and Saturday. And he's developed a cold. He's a complete mess. And his sleeping at night because of all this is pretty much non-existent. Last night he joined us in bed at 11:30 (he had finally gone to sleep in his own bed at 9, 2 hours AFTER he was supposed to). And he slept fairly well with us til 3. Then he got up, had a bottle and would not go back to sleep. Not where was supposed to anyways (i.e. in between Steve and me). He tossed, he turned, squirmed and squiggled. Rolled over so many times that Steve gave up and moved to the floor. Then Finn wrestled around with me for a good half hour trying to find a comfortable spot that didn't involve either of us hanging off the edge of the bed. He finally settle down, upside down and diagonally across the center of the bed. I'm sure that a lot of this battle could have been avoided had we brought the vaporizor into our room for him, but I'm allergic to the menthol. Sigh. And today he's just as stuffed up and miserable. He woke up at 7 this morning and went back to sleep at 8:45 and napped til 12. He woke up fairly happy after that. But by 2 he was ready to go down again. I just want my normal, healthy little guy back. Ugh.

On the upside, his long naps left me time to look up a yummy french onion soup recipe (I want to suprise Steve with it this week), bake cookies to send to Bobby and Katie (chocolate chip!), and do some research on chicken coops. With us looking at a few farm houses for rent I'm hoping we can get a few hens for the spring. Nothing says homemade like slaughtering your own chickens in the fall! I picked up an issue of Hobby Farm yesterday and they had a whole section on rare chicken breeds and composting with chicken manure and fancy-schmancy coops. I get pretty excited about such things. I got REALLY excited about the Omlet Eglu coop. Until I looked it up on their website and discovered that the whole set up runs about $500. Ouch. While it is a very complete kit, and would be preceisely what I'd need for under a half dozen hens, that's just too pricey. So I guess we'll have to build our own little house for the birds. I'm sure my dad could help us build one like some of the fancier models in Hobby Farm. I so want my own little farm. My dream farm is right across the street from where Steve works. I sigh and dream each time we drive past. Big ol' farm house, giant barn, roomy shed, fields upon fields for planting and grazing. Someday, someday. For now I guess I'll just have to hope we can score one of these rentals and that they'll let us keep a few hens out back and plant a few rows of veggies.

Monday, February 16, 2009

A few days late but....

Finnegan Reid: A toddler

Dear Doozer MacGee,

Wow. I can NOT believe a whole year has gone by since you joined me and Daddy, making us a little family. It seems like such a short time ago I was snuggling your little peanut body close to my chest while you slept all day. And now you can walk by my side, hardly even wanting to hold my hand. But even though you have such a strong independent streak, you still come back to me (and Daddy too) when you need a little help or want some reassuring hugs. You are quite the little man.

This past weekend we had a BIG birthday party for you. It was not the small, at-home party we had wanted for you, but you had tons of fun so it was okay in the end. You got to hang out with all your little cousins and your little friend Ethan came too. You gave out lots of hugs and smooches to them all. You're such an affectionate boy. When it came time for your own cake (which I had painstakingly made the night before), we stripped you down, waiting for you to go crazy with the smashing. Instead you were your typical polite self, and only poked at the icing with your finger. A few times Nana tried jamming your hands into the cake, but you would just lick the icing off and then go back to your single finger prodding. With your table of presents you were more interested in the packages than the gifts. Much like Christmas. Shortly after we made a hasty exit because in all the excitement you had refused to eat. You were getting crabby, so you and I came home, you had some milk and we took all your new toys out of their boxes. Your favorite is an activity table from Nana and Pap. My favorite was the big stack of books from Kelli and Mike and their kids. Of course you like those too, and I'm sure we'll have lots of fun reading them before bed this week. Also this weekend you got your first real haircut. You were so well behaved for the barber. You just sat on Daddy's lap and looked at yourself in the mirror while the barber snipped away your shaggy baby locks. When he was done, I got a little teary-eyed when I saw the little boy left behind. Definitely not the face of a baby anymore.

Speaking of sleeping, this past month you have been kind of terrible when it comes to staying asleep at night. Usually we get you down with little problem, but then you toss and turn, kick and twist all night. You fuss and whine and roll all about. And for the life of me, we can not figure out what is going on with you. We keep passing it off as your teeth (where are they, by the way?) or a growth spurt, but it's hard to know what's really going on. When we realized you have a sensitivity to oats and cut them out of your diet I thought the wiggling and squiggling would get better. But so far, its gotten worse (although your gassiness has subsided. No cheerios for you.) The only other diet related problem I can come up with is your switch to milk. But you're fine with it all day long and have no problem laying completely still for naps. So how that could be the cause of your nighttime shennanigans is beyond me. I'm hoping to pick up some raw milk this weekend from a local farm and see if that helps you. I'm crossing my fingers that it does, because we (you included) could all use a decent night's sleep.

All your moving and shaking at night though, pales in comparison to your activity during the day. How quickly you've gone from 4 steps, to 10 steps to walking the entire way around the house without help. You even walked along with me whiel we went shopping the other day (that is until you shook off my hand and took off grabbing everything in sight). And you're trying out more words every day. So far you can say:
  • Dog
  • PupPup
  • Duck
  • MumMum
  • Dada
  • Nana
  • Pap
  • Mike
  • Moe
  • Poop
  • Num num
  • Button (you've only said it once though)
  • Baba (bottle)
  • Belly Button (bell-buhn)
  • Sound of the doggy (arf arf!)
  • Sound of the ducks (dududududuck!)
  • Sound of ducks sleeping (snoring noise)
  • Sound of butterfly (a-la-la-la-la while you wiggle your hand like a butterfly)
  • Sound of muscle man (you flex your arms and grunts)
  • Sound of cow (oooooo! You just learned that this morning and can't seem to put the M on the beginning)
  • Sound of cars and trucks (rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr)

And recently you've taken to using ANYTHING as a phone. You'll hold your phone (or puzzle piece, or fork, or car or stuffed toy) up to your ear and babble on like you're talking to someone. It's super funny. When you do it in public you have everyone in stitches. Especially after you look at them like "Uh, I'm on the phone, do you mind?". Also you've been trying to dress yourself, which is quite cute. You'll grab a sock and hold it by your feet and wiggle your toes as if it's somehow going to get on your foot. You do the same thing with your pants too. And you get quite upset if I or Daddy tries to help you. You even tried to put my slippers onto my feet this morning. You like to play with everyone's shoes and even try to put them onto your feet. You also like to try on everything and everything as a hat. Your potty, a bib, a burp cloth, a basket, a diaper...if you can pick it up, you've tried to wear it as a hat. You're such a comedian. You contsantly have us laughing with the silly things you do. You amaze me and Daddy every single day. It has been so great to be able to spend everyday with you this past year, watching you grow and learn and change and become this beautiful little boy that you are. I can't wait to see who you become over the next year.

Love, love, love,


Friday, February 6, 2009

One small step...

You know what's difficult to do? Maintaining a blog when you have a crazy, active soon-to-be toodler. It's true. And he will indeed be a toddler in just a week. How insane is that? I can't believe he went from teensy (okay, not really teensy) human larvae to this chubby-cheeked maniac in just a year. Just last night I pulled him out of his bed and into ours and snuggled him on my chest, like we used to when he was brand new. I got a little teary-eyed realizing that a year ago his little toes used to be curled up at my stomach when we'd snuggle like that. And now his feet nearly reach my knees. And then I realized that I was also getting teared up because I couldn't breath. There's a big difference between an 8 pound baby curled up on you and a 26 pound toddler sprawled out on your upper body. Sigh. Later in the night, he woke up just enough to roll over and wrap his arm around my neck and muttered a little nonsense song into my shoulder. Double sigh. No matter how much hell he raises during the day, little things like that make up for it all.

And he's walking now. Not full-fledged, all the time walking. But he's certainly getting there. In just a few days he's gone from taking a few steps here and there to walking in a big circle in the kitchen. And just today he walked the entire way across the living room. I don't know who gets more excited about it either, us or him. Every few steps he pauses and lets out a victorious yell. It's pretty funny actually. He knows he's doing something big. And he also seems to be pretending. We noticed last week that he was holding his hand up to his cheek and ear a lot and couldn't for the life us figure out what he was doing. Then yesterday he picked up his play cell phone and did the same. And later when the cell phone wasn't around I gave him this empty tic tac box that he's obsessed with and he held it up to his ear too and babbled away. I was like "Oh! That's what you were doing with your little hand! " And then a second after that he dropped the box into his potty (he had been peeing at the time) and that was the end of the beloved tic tac box cell phone. Speaking of pottying, the EC seems to have really taken effect lately. Especially with pooping. He'll signal that he's got to go (usually an impatient grunt and this curious stare) and he'll wait for me to get him to the potty to actually go. It's very rare these days that I have to change a poopy diaper. Which, I think, is reason enough to use EC with him and our next child as well. It really is so easy and just kind of comes naturally after awhile, I can't get why more people in North America don't use it with their babies.

Have I mentioned I've been sewing. I'm pretty sure I have. Here's the doozer modeling a felt bib. In hindsight, probably not the best choice of fabric for a bib, but I'm still pretty happy with it.
Oops. Forgot to rotate. Again. Oh well. You get the idea. He went to his first Super Bowl party the other night....and lasted all of 20 minutes before we came home to have a bath and get tucked in to bed.

And these are from a bit of fun we had yesterday. He was modeling a new shirt from Nana (one of my favorite kinds too- H&M's organic cotton baby tees. They're super soft and under $7)

And he was also trying on custom boots that I ordered from a great gal on Etsy. They're technically a birthday present, so after this I put themaway until next Saturday. I'm fairly certain he won't remember.