Ein Kessel Buntes
Nov. 2nd, 2011 05:53 pmFirst things first:
Happy belated birthdays,
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Yesterday I had to decide between being lazy and eating sandwiches or being good and cooking the main course of the fall menu I'd decided on last week. Then I checked the best-before date of the duck and the decision was made for me: either make it now or risk that it turns bad. So I made the duck.
This turned out to be a very good thing (aside from the fact that it tasted awesome) because I then found out that Julie & Julia was on TV. I hadn't seen it before, so I grasped the chance to watch it now, and I don't think it's a movie you can easily watch with nothing but sandwiches (or, for that matter, nachos or popcorn) to go on. Duck à l'orange with mushrooms, pumpkin and sweet chestnuts, on the other hand, was an acceptable accompaniment...
Also yesterday, in a moment of madness, I signed up for NaNo after all. I won't actually be very creative, though: I'll just use the chance (or not) to write a (retrospective, perforce) diary of our first three months with Felix before I forget everything and tell new mothers "Enjoy this wonderful time" myself. (Disclaimer: I love my son and I wanted to have him, but the first three months with a baby are full of horrible, stressful moments, and the last thing you need implied is that it's actually wonderful and you're doing something wrong if you don't think so.) We'll see how that goes. At least I won't have to come up with a plotline ;)
Speaking of Felix, his sleeping schedule (which was reasonable nice for about a week: he only woke once per night) is shot to hell again, meaning that he wakes up and cries miserably three or more times, and has trouble getting to sleep in the first place. *sighs* I really don't know what to do. Everyone and their dog's brother's boyfriend keep telling you that after three months, all should be well sleep-wise. Actually it seems that 40% of children don't develop a sleep rhythm that vaguely matches their parents' until they reach the age of 6 months, or so I've read, but as everyone I know seems to belong to the other 60%, I feel vaguely guilty again. (And I really do my best in terms of good-night, rituals - cuddling, nursing, song and all!) It doesn't help that he seems to be preparing for another growth spurt, which tends to make him peevish anyway.
Oh well. If he already had a rhythm, it'd probably have been shot to hell by the return to Winter Time last Sunday. Now it's dark at 5 pm again. I really wish we'd do like the Russians and stay on Daylight Savings Time all year round.
At least Jörg has a chance to get some sleep - he's on a business trip to Munich this week. His paternity leave ended last week and about the first thing he was told was that this trip had to be taken (for the sake of a seminar that apparently wasn't really worth the long journey, but at least he's away from the company).
This morning I had a bad case of Teh Stoopid: After breakfast and changing Felix' nappies, I went down to the compost heap (because yesterday's duck orgy resulted in lots of organic waste). As I went out the door, I slapped the pocket of my pants and heard the reassuring "clink" of keys, so I cheerfully pulled the door locked behind me. When I returned, I found out that the key in my pocket was the one for the ex-pigsty/now-laundry room. Where was my house key? Well, not out here where I was.
Now normally I would've asked one of our neighbours to use their phone, called the mother-in-law who has a spare key, and then she'd have come over and saved me (us). But the mother-in-law has just had knee surgery: She's lying in hospital and in no shape to come driving anywhere.
After some colourful curses and a short round of the grounds (to pacify Felix, who apparently sensed my agitation and started crying), I tried to lure Mr. Darcy outside - I knew he was inside because he'd insisted on cuddling while I'd been changing Felix diapers; then he curled up in Jörg's Poäng chair and fell asleep. Mr. Darcy is a very clever cat who knows how to open doors, and generally does so when nobody expects him to. Now, however, he was fast asleep and didn't react at all. I waited a while, tried again, then gave up and rang at our tenants' door. Fortunately, these tenants are lovely, lovely people. Mrs. G. immediately dug out the old infant car seat of her daughter and gave me her car keys so I could go to the hospital in Remscheid where, fortunately, the MIL had our key. So all was well - but damn, that was stupid.
About three hours after our return from Remscheid, Mr. Darcy woke up - and opened the back door to let himself out. Thanks, cat, I love you too!
And that concludes today's status update. Take care, be good, and always make sure you've got the right keys on your person!