The Queen's Rambles

If you know me, you know my six months discombobulation theory. Basically, Erik goes insane a couple of months before his birthday and his half birthday.

Guess what happened on August 13?

Insanity.

Oh, the wailing!

Oh, the gnashing of teeth!

Oh, the mass consumption of Advil (for me).

He started crying at the park today. Crying. Real tears. Because he was “scared of the other kids. They might talk to [him].”

Discombobulation, he has it. If you’ve ever met him, you probably don’t even believe that he uttered the statement that he was scared of the other kids.

I’ve been white knuckling my way through the days, trying not to be a terrible mommy and shake him until he can get a grip. Seriously, who needs to wail like a fire engine for a full hour because of a popped balloon? I can be patient with that for about five minutes, but then I’m done. I hold out a little longer, but finally I had to tell him he could be sad and cry, but he had to do it in his room.

Did I mention we have new neighbors? Actually, we have new neighbors on both sides of us. One set moved in a few weeks ago and we haven’t seen much of them. The others just moved in two days ago and we’ve already seen a lot of the kids. They have a 9 year old girl and a 6 year old boy and they’ve fit right in to the neighborhood. The girl is sad that there aren’t more girls, but the boy is loving having a band of friends to run around with. I’m loving having a friend right across the . . . not even sure what to call it. We are in an end unit townhouse with a side facing entrance. We face their front door. There is a patch of dirt and tree separating us. Having a friend a little closer keeps Erik a little closer.

I have an extremely cranky baby this afternoon. She was sleeping so well until Erik came up and started pestering me about helping him with his video game. We have issues. I can’t wait until Erik goes to school so Elsa will be able to get uninterrupted naps. I am going to train her to go down in the crib, but I can’t do it with Erik here because he freaks out if she is crying, which makes matters about 10000000x worse.

I was at a MOMS Club event yesterday and Elsa wanted to be nursed. One of the other moms was totally horrified and asked me how old she was. When I said 16 months, she rushed to her bag and pulled out a bottle of Mavala, this nasty anti-thumbsucking fingernail polish and instructed me to put it on my nipples.

Ok.

First of all, I am not going to stop nursing because someone I barely know thinks I should quit nursing.

Not that I want to nurse forever. I am sort of weaning her.

Second of all.

Oh. My. God.

Fingernail polish on my nipples????

So not going to happen.

So I put a tiny bit on my thumb just to see how it felt on the skin and to appease this lady. She’s a nice lady, just very young and not very politically correct. I like her, despite the mommy drive by.

I forgot all about the stuff until lunch time. I couldn’t even eat my sandwich. It is HORRIBLE. Beyond horrible. Just disgusting. GROSSGROSSGROSS. It would totally put an end to thumbsucking, but it might make your kid hate you.

It’s still on there today and is causing me problems. I’m surprised at how much my eating depends on my thumb.

I think it is time to stop nursing, just to save myself some embarrassment. Elsa has taken to walking around with her shirt lifted up, yelling out “boobie boobie boobie.” She really likes B words.