Sigrid posted this on Facebook, and I decided it was a better thing to do here. (It'll get re-posted to FB anyway.)

"Every day this month until Thanksgiving, think of one thing that you are thankful for and post it as your status. "Today I am thankful for..." The longer you do it, the harder it gets! Now if you think you can do it then repost this message as your status to invite others to take the challenge, then post what YOU are thankful for today...."

So instead of my status, you get it as a journal entry. Lessee, should I start with the big, obvious stuff, or the little things?

Today (and every day!) I'm thankful for Aaron, the world's best husband (sorry, ladies!), and the best parenting partner I could wish for.

Ok, here's a real post.

Aaron and I live in different time zones. I get up early with Z (about 8:30), and he sleeps in til or past noon. This hasn't always been the case--left to our own devices, we are both naturally night owls and late risers, though he's more likely to be up til 4am, while I start glazing over not long after midnight.

It's really hard to get medical people, service people, etc. to understand that calling our house before noon will not result in a polite response. Back when both of us were sleeping late (I used to have an 11:30 work shift), I was as likely as not to answer the phone with a gruff, "yeah?" Now I answer more civilly, but if a caller asks for Aaron before noon, they're out of luck.

Often, when I explain that he's still sleeping, or ask someone not to call before noon for that reason, there's a moment of startled silence, then something like, "uh, ok..." Sometimes the "ok" is uttered with the rising intonation that implies, "that's really weird, but whatever." Occasionally, I've even gotten, "wow, must be nice," implying that my husband is a lazy layabout with no work ethic, and he's lucky his wife puts up with this outrageous behavior.

Our society is arranged around the assumption that people wake at 6, get to work by 8, come home at 5, and are in bed by 10. Not doing so is perceived as profligate, lazy, self-indulgent, and even rude. How can you interface with anyone else if you don't match their schedule? Even more than that, what I see at work with those sly "must be nice" remarks is jealousy--most people don't really *want* to keep those hours, but they do because it's the way of the world, and they've been brainwashed to believe that doing otherwise is profligate, lazy, etc.

Repeat after me, boys and girls: there is no moral superiority in early rising. Aaron is awake the same number of hours as everyone else (if not more); they just happen to be different hours. Early to bed and early to rise would not make him healthy, wealthy, and wise, it would only make him cranky, nauseated, and insomniac.

Now, it so happens that he has a job in academia that accommodates that, and when I was working outside the house, I had a job with a late start time that also accommodated our preferences. So, yeah, it was nice. And once we had a baby, it was still nice--you know why? Because when the baby cried at 2am, my night owl husband was still awake to feed him, and mama could sleep through the night. I don't think we would have survived Z's first six months without Aaron's profligate, lazy, self-indulgent habits. Now that Z is sleeping through the night, it's less imperative, but we have kept the pattern of me handling wake-up time, and Aaron handling bedtime. Not only does this work well with our sleep preferences, but it's what enables me to keep up my dance schedule--Aaron can have Z ready for bed, if not already asleep, by the time I get home, so all I have to do is shower and fall into bed, while he stays up and gets the second half of his workday in.

We've found a way to make our sleep preferences work for us. Yeah. It is nice.

(NB: Facebook comments here)

Thursday night: Jeff's last Swing Soulstice before moving to Minnesota. Bye, Jeff! Because it was pouring down rain and I hate to drive at night in that kind of weather, Aaron strapped Z into the car and gave me a ride to the dance. We brought Z in for the beginning of the open practice session, basically to show off how cute he is, and to let him run around and wear himself out a bit. Both goals were readily accomplished, to the point where both of us were required to drag him out again--he really liked the music and the mirrors and all the activity, and wanted to get underfoot of the dancers. This does at least bode well for the future, but watching out for someone Z's height goes beyond floor craft training, so Aaron took him off to Borders to get coffee. (Aaron got the coffee, not Z. Z does not need coffee.)

Friday night: Hour and a half blues class followed by social blues dancing. I got real up close and personal with a lot of sweaty men.

Today: five hours of dance workshops...ouch. Lots of good connection work, a few new jazz moves, and some tips on stealing into a jam circle. Must relax lead arm, engage frame, push feet into ground, push off from preceding steps, not look down, move from center, and, oh, yeah, dance.

Happy birthday to my wonderful, sweet, funny, brilliant, delightful husband. I love you!

I couldn't ask for a more loving and dedicated parenting partner than abovenyquist. He more than pulls his weight--takes his fair share of baby duty, and gives me breaks when I need them. I knew when I married him he'd make good daddy material--how right I turned out to be!

I love you, dear. Happy Fathers' Day.

I am upstairs in my sewing room, which has windows overlooking the deck roof. Aaron is outside in the swingy chair on the deck. I know this, because I went outside to check, after hearing the ominous creaking noise coming through the roof and my windows.

I had one of those terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days today. Biggest challenges lately:

Communication - It's so hard for me when Z cries and I can't figure out why. After a certain amount of this, I just sort of stare at him helplessly. We're still working with the baby sign, but I have a hard time being consistent with it. Some days I do a lot of signing with him, and others it goes clear out of my head. It's not that I'm too tired to do it, I just *forget*.

Biting - I feel like I spend all day repeating, "No bite! No bite!" I try to give him other things to bite on, like the cold chew toys, but sometimes it's not just teething--he bit my hand today when I blocked his access to a cabinet in the bathroom. The sign of aggression really worries me.

Separation anxiety - I can't leave the room any more. Ever. Even for a minute. Even the Baby Einstein videos don't work to distract him anymore. I have to take him in the bathroom with me. It makes it virtually impossible to get any housework done--I can't carry both Z and a heavy bag of laundry up the stairs at the same time. Sure, I could put him in the play yard and let him cry, knowing he's safe, but in the five minutes it takes me to go up and down the stairs, the fuss escalates to a full-blown screaming fit that takes another 15 minutes to calm down.

Bedtime - This is Aaron's duty, so I can't complain about it for my own sake, but I have to note that, for all those books that say babies need routine, establish a bedtime routine, yadda yadda, I say, "thpppt." Z now *recognizes* the bedtime routine, and starts to resist as soon as it starts. The soothing music, the rocking, the darkened room--as soon as Aaron gets him into the room and starts the music, Z starts to squirm and cry. The world is too interesting to go to sleep!

Aaron, by the way, is amazing. He carries everything so gracefully--the crushing responsibility of his job, the resistance to bedtime, even the freaking out spouse. I wish I could figure out how he does it, so I can do it too.

Phone conversation with Aaron today:

Me: I'm downtown, I just took Z to the aquarium.
Aaron: Oh! Did you show Z the whales?
Me: Yeah, we saw the whales, and the garden eels, and the otters and everything. It was fun!
Aaron: What did Z think?
Me: He fell asleep.

Item: Z likes blueberries.

Item: Aaron was feeding Z blueberries last night.

Item: I can't find the rest of the blueberries.

"Honey, did you take the blueberries with you when you went out?"
"No, Z ate them."
"ALL of them??"
"Um...was that bad?"

Item: Be glad I'm not posting a picture of the resulting diaper. Suffice to say, no smurfs were harmed.

Aaron went to work Wednesday "not feeling so great," and came home running a fever. In the morning, guess what little almost-one-year old was running a 101 degree fever?

So far I have escaped the spring version of the plague of 09, and I am tiptoeing around the house, disinfecting my hands at every opportunity, in the hopes that my good luck will continue. The boyz are feeling better today, and hopefully *that* trend will continue so we are all well enough for Z's birthday tomorrow. My mom flew in from NJ to celebrate with us, and so far she's not sick either. Everyone keep your fingers crossed!

(Oh, and he never did recover from jet lag, in either direction, so we haven't had a complete night's sleep since *before* the trip to Cali.)

Actually, this is a few weeks old:

One of these things is just like the other!





And be sure and check out Aaron's blog for some video of Z giggling!

Have I mentioned I have the best husband in the world? I certainly had the best husband in the room today, at any rate. Of course, there were only three, but I bet if there'd been more, he'd still have ranked right up there. Why?

Today we took a class called "Baby Essentials," so now we know, theoretically, how to change a diaper and bathe and swaddle a baby. Provided, that is, that the baby's made of plastic, doesn't move, and doesn't cry. Aaron did a fair job w/ the swaddling, but that wasn't what qualified him for the "Best Husband" award.

No, but here's what did: as the other couples straggled into the room, two, it turned out, knew each other from work. The wives greeted each other in those high-pitched, enthusiastic feminine tones; the guys, on the other hand, gruffly exchanged, "hi, how ya doin's?" There was talk of other classes the couples had taken, and one guy exclaimed to his colleague's wife, "You're makin' him do too much!" The words "dragged in by my wife" were uttered. And so on, like that. One insisted on taking pictures, with his cell phone, of the other dad swaddling and diapering, etc, to pass around work for the purpose of embarrassing him.

And this, friends, is why I had the best husband in the room. Aaron never once has complained of me "dragging him into" a class--he knows just as little about babies as I do, and is pretty damn excited about this whole baby thing, and is not too testosterone-laden to admit either one. I did all the research and scheduling, but he's right there with me all the way.

In Mr. Cell-Phone Camera's defense, he did pretty well w/ the bathing and swaddling and all, and asked a number of quite intelligent questions. Which leads me to believe that this whole "dragged in by my wife" thing is merely a smokescreen, so men don't have to give up their rough, tough, uber-masculine mystique. Oy. Mundanes.

The Creature has been extraordinarily active for the last several weeks. In addition to thumps and bumps, I sometimes get these long, protracted squimy motions, like he's rolling over. The kicks are getting stronger and more frequent, and often occur in several places at once. Either he's growing extra limbs, or he's simultaneously playing DDR and Guitar Hero.

The midwife said on Wednesday that everything is progressing normally, and my measurements are just right, though I seem to be gaining a bit too much weight--I'm up to a 35 lb gain already, which is supposed to be enough for the entire pregnancy! The baby, she siad, weighs about 3.5 pounds right now. He's turned head down, with his butt on my right side. We even got to hear his heartbeat speed up when he kicked, and slow down slightly when he stopped. :)

Once night I was lying in bed, spooned up behind Aaron, and got one of those mega-thumps. "Heh-heh," I giggled, "The baby's kickin' your ass."

Squee! Aaron felt the baby kick for the first time last night!!

Aaron: 15-inch Macbook weigh like brick. Bang on table.
Me: Why you not use articles?
Aaron: Not like. Articles bad.
Me: Why you not use auxiliary verbs?
Aaron: [pause] Not know what is.
Me: Ha! Why you not use pronouns??
Aaron: Pronouns evil. Stole lunch money. Vow revenge.

Why our child may never speak standard English:

Aaron: what clocks BPUGAO? what clocks plane zoom zoom?
Me: plane go zoom 10:30 clocks

All he needs is a pair of sandals and a magic lamp!