Why you ask? Oh, because Ben is only happy at night when one of his parents is kicked out of the bed and exiled to the futon in the living room.

Let me explain. Ben has pretty much never left our bed since he was born. It’s just so nice. But recently – and increasingly – Ben has been awaking in the middle of the night with a lot of fussing and crying and general malaise. Now, put on your thinking caps and walk this path with me, because I think all my clues will add up to my final realization.

Fact A: I often pass out on the futon in front of the TV. I always tell Adam to wake me up and make me move into the bedroom, but sometimes he fails to do so or I fail to be rousable. On these nights, Ben sleeps with nary a peep.

Fact B: On the nights in which I am roused and all three of us are in bed, Ben tosses and turns a lot and seems more fussy.

Fact C: On the nights in which I pass out in bed first and all three of us sleep in bed, Ben again tosses and turns a lot and seems more fussy.

Fact D: One night before a big day at work, I could not take the kicking and the fuss and went out onto the futon to sleep so that I would not be drowsy the next day. The fuss stopped pretty instantly. This has also happened when it is Adam that left one night because of his big day the following morning.

Soooooooooooo. Are you seeing the same pattern that I am seeing? I think Ben wants more space to sleep and gets uncomfortable when he does not have said space. The discomfort makes him angry. The anger wakes him. Then one of us clears the bed because we don’t have any other option at this time.

Looks like we might finally need to invest in a little kiddie bed. This feels good. It feels ok. In this whole parenting experience, there are some things that Adam and I prefer to be child-led. If he is running towards a stack of knives, we’ll immediately step in because stack of knives = bad. So that is a clear example of a non child-led situation. But with cosleeping? We were happy with that as long as it worked for everyone. It doesn’t seem to be working so much for Ben anymore and so it might be time to explore other options.  Since our home is nothing if not an IKEA museum, it’s time to head on over there and add a Swedish kiddie bed to our collection.

If by rousing success one does not measure it by amount of candy received (which was actually a fairly impressive accumulation of sweets) but rather by the fact that Benjamin seemed absolutely thrilled to be trick-or-treating in a doggie costume. And I do mean thrilled. I think he was as delighted as I was that evening.

The day was a good one – sunny but October chilly. I was eternally grateful for this, as Illinois has a tendency to be cold and rainy and generally blah on Halloween. We ran a few errands then took a good nap and suited up in costume. I wasn’t quite sure how he would respond to the costume. It was, after all, a dog costume with big floppy ears right by the face. But I think it is safe to say that Benjamin loved being dressed up. And I know this because, the day after Halloween, Benjamin brought Adam his costume and insisted that he be dressed in it and then further insisted that he be taken for a walk outside. He also brought me the costume last night for Halloween Evening Redux Part Three, but I didn’t have the energy in me to comply, so we played with trains instead. However, I think that my assumption that Benjamin likes this whole dressing up and walking around in costume thing is being increasingly supported by an ample amount of evidence.

But on Halloween Evening Part One, we had a blast. We had in mind that we would hit a few houses, see how Benjamin responded and take it from there. Well, Benjamin responded quite well. Right from the very first house, he held his little cloth BOO! candy bag and walked right up on the porch with me. I would knock on the door and crouch down next to him and say “Trick-or-Treat!” as Benjamin would stand there with his bag plotting entrance into the homeowner’s home. He was unmercifully curious regarding the interior of the houses and would often peer around the candy-giver to look inside their house. Now, this is where a parent might make a “tut, tut” sound and nod their head in bemused exasperation, but I was TOTALLY doing the same thing. I can’t help it. I just want to know how you live, dammit.

I like to collect in my memory the snippets of all the little things that Benjamin does that reminds me of me. I relish those moments where I can stop and say, “Now, that is Mama’s boy!” I think his sheer joy in getting dressed up in a costume and the general revelry that is holidays (and Halloween in particular) smacks of Mamaness. Adam enjoys the holidays as well, but the holidays change me in some small way every year. They make me feel excited to be alive, thankful for my family and friends, deeply nostalgic for my childhood and incredibly hopeful for the future. I hope that Ben’s young toddler version of enthusiasm this past Halloween  is the harbinger of a similar holiday glee. My mother is like this and I’ve had a real lifelong joy in being able to share this with her. It would be really great to be able to share this with my own child throughout his life.

But I digress, slightly. I think we hit up about 10 houses or so on Halloween and generally ambled about the neighborhood, taking in the sights of decorations and older children trick-or-treating. We all ate waaaaaay too much candy that night and spent the remainder of the evening watching not-too-scary Halloween videos until bedtime. It was a great day.

I’m kind of excited that this Halloween is on a Saturday and that the morning is sunny – although cold – thus far. Last Halloween, we didn’t do much. I walked around the block with Ben for a little bit with him in the stroller, but that’s it. I think Adam joined us. Since we weren’t going to be trick -or-treating anyways, we went out when it was late and just watched the older kids with their half-hearted attempts at costuming say their half-hearted “trick-or-treat” in a somewhat half-hearted attempt at getting free candy from neighbors. I did that one year, too. That whole asking for candy when one is a sophomore in high school and is really too old for this sort of thing. I mean, we were Theater Kids (c), so we were all theatrical and not at all half-hearted in our costuming and proclamations for candy and so I think people didn’t mind very much. But still, I felt a little nervous twang every time someone rang the doorbell because I was just waiting for the angry adult to call us out one of the times.

This Halloween, we’ll walk around with Ben a little bit and maybe even knock on a few doors. I may try to maneuver him into a little throng of children that are already making their way up to a house in the event that he just stands there or decides to take in a bit of the porch scenery or landscaping and ignores the whole candy retrieval process. That way, there will be other children there to retrieve candy so that the homeowner did not open their door in vain for our clearly uninterested little party. Also? Why do I care enough about hypothetical homeowner irritation to have thought this through so fully?

We are going to all be Dog Whisperer for Halloween. Ben is going to be dressed as the little naughty dog. I was planning to be dressed as Cesar Milan and Adam was going to be dressed as the hapless pet owner, but I think Adam wants to fight me for the right to wear Cesar’s awesome grey wig and fake mustache/goatee. So we’ll see how it all shakes out this evening. I’m so invested in getting Scrooge McHalloween to wear anything that resembles a costume that I’ll happily turn over the wig and facial accoutrements and wear the dogfoot printed t-shirt if that means the ensemble will be complete.

We also carved our pumpkin last night and did an excellent job, if I do say so myself.

Pictures to follow tomorrow!

Dear Benjamin,

During your 20th month of life, we moved. In years to come, when you grow into adulthood and find that you have to put all of your belongings in little boxes and carry them elsewhere to then remove them from the little boxes, you will understand why I can remember little from the 20th month of your life. Other than boxes. And tape. And more boxes. And then some more.

You most assuredly did cute things. You always do cute things. You most assuredly did things that made me laugh, made me feel a little flustered, made me feel happy and made me feel worried. I am pretty sure you wore my hot pink headband for about 4 hours one day. That was mighty adorable. You likely said new words you have never said before and you waffled between eating really well and ignoring everything but cookies, as toddlers are wont to do. You and I probably took a walk tor two and I’m sure there was a temper tantrum in there for good measure. We did see Nana and Grandpa in Milwaukee. This much I do remember.

I can’t really remember much else, though. It’s an unfortunate reality that some life events are so all-encompassing, so time-consuming, that they blot out the memory of anything else that happens during that time. The last time I felt this way was when you were a tiny little newborn. I know that I was walking, moving and talking during the month of January 2008, but that’s about all I can say about that. The rest is a big, puffy blur. Of course, in that case it was less an “unfortunate reality” and more a “terrifyingly new yet exciting reality that shook the foundations of my previous life to the core.” But you get the idea. Big changes leave big waves that make it hard to see anything else.

I know, last month, that I didn’t see you much and I hated that. I know that I was busy all the time and had little opportunity to play with you and I hated that. I know that Daddy had really bad back problems and couldn’t help with the move towards the end there and I rather hated that, too. Although, you were super cute about the whole thing – you would grab your back and say “ohhhh daddy back hurt” because Daddy spent the whole month falling all over the place moaning about his back. Since I have had a back problem or two in my day, I can sympathize. And apparently, so can you.

So, let’s put the month of September (and this disappointingly short monthly letter) to a close. October has been more interesting and I’ll tell you all about it in a little bit.

Love,

Mama

Oh, hello.

I have no excuse for the lag in writing. Well, I have excuses for my absence, but they are dull. Work. School. Homework. Rinse and repeat.

Here is the odd thing. I was sitting down to write Benjamin’s 20 month letter and it dawned on me that I could remember very little from that month. I think because I spent most of the time cleaning, packing, throwing things away and being generally harried. I’ve tried to enlist Adam in helping me to write the 20-month letter, but he said that he is too busy hanging with Ben to write anything. Which is true. I’m also busy with Ben, but I have the luxury of uninterrupted down time at work to be able to at least string a few thoughts together.

Month 20 was September. Month 20 was a month in which I spent little time with Benjamin. Every weekend was filled to the brim with preparations for the move and in the last two weeks, I did little else but eat, breathe and think packing paper, packing tape and boxes.

So this post is an apology to Benjamin for the post that will follow. If you accuse me in 15 years of being an awful, neglectful mother, at least I’ll be able to pinpoint the day and the hour in which it all turned sour.

Only minimally unholy sick Saturday. And let’s see how today pans out.

I feel like I am in a bit of a nasty mental funk, which usually means one and one thing only. And I’m too much of a lady to mention it here, but if you are a lady, you know of what I speak.

My purse was stolen on Friday. I am supposed to write a grant application and have it be complete for delivery by Wednesday.

This would be one of those weekends that I would define as “utterly crappy.”

On the plus side, I get to see my mother and Ben gets to see his Nana today. That’s always nice!

I’m still trying to get them.

Historically, this is always a busy time for me. All grant applications are generally due between the end of August to the end of October. So we’ve been writing frantically for weeks now in an effort to fund myself and another employee. The prospect of being able to eat and live in homes far overshadows the exhausting, stressful, time-consuming work that is the fall grants season. It will repeat itself in the spring. Plus, historically, my classes have been in full swing about this time and so I am in the thick of balancing work and school.

I was SUPPOSED to be going to DC this weekend to represent in the March for Equality. But the combination of grants season, school and not seeing my wee boychild very much during the course of the recent move – oh, and the move and subsequent slow unpacking – has conspired against me. It was a case of bad timing more than anything else, though I optimistically assumed that I could swing it when I first agreed to do it with my mother, aunt and auntie uncle. I’ll make the effort, instead, to tear away for a little bit this weekend to stand-in at the Chicago version of the march and think fondly of the awesome ladies holding a place for me in DC. Ladies – I am sad and sorry that I have to miss it! And I demand pictures.

Benjamin is doing well in the new place now. I think he realizes that this is not just a hotel room but actually our new place of residence. We had some backsliding on the pacifier use, but it’s hard to withhold a tried and true comfort item during a stressful transition. We’ll try again to pack away the pacifiers once we are truly settled in and everything starts to hum with a more recognizable normalcy. I understand his request – I myself have been indulging in the great comfort food of peanut butter for the past few weeks, a sure sign that I’m needing a little stress relief myself. I think I’ve eaten it every day for breakfast for the past 15 days.

We’re all settling in more and more and finding that the place feels more like home every day. The traffic – though still a nightmare – has become bearable through my use of audiobooks. I’ve gone through one already and just started another today. It’s actually a rather nice chunk of time to myself and I’ve always been able to whittle away the hours with a good book in my hands. Errrr… in this case, a good book being read into my ears.

There are definitely some things I like having now moved. I like the floor plan. At first, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about it, but I suspected I would like it. I’m used to having more boxed off, more defined spaces and this is an open floor plan. Everything is kind of all together. As it turns out, I really like it. It will be of little surprise to those that know me well, but let me state that I am a person that thrives on companionship and being surrounded by loved ones. If I could permanently stitch myself to my favorite people in the world, I’d seriously consider doing so. This floor plan means that at any point in the apartment (save the bedrooms) I am in easy eyeshot of Ben or Adam. It’s nice. Really nice. Makes for easy communication and easy interaction.

Also? The patio door and being on the ground floor? Great. So very great that I don’t even know if the word “great” is strong enough. Yesterday, when I was running late (insert “as usual” here), I popped the pooch on her doggie tie-out line in the back and finished getting ready. It was divine. Normally, I would have had to rush to get ready and then rush her downstairs and rush her through a walk and curse the universe until she went to the bathroom. Now however? I just clip her outside, let her do her thing while I continue to do my thing and then go on my merry way. It’s easily shaved 15 minutes off my morning routine. Which is good because the commute?

It’s killing me already.

The first few days were meant to lull me into complacency. I think it was about 55 minutes door to door. Now, this is the Chicago Metro area, so this is about standard from the northwest burbs. Are you hearing me, world? 55. Minutes. STANDARD. Are you weeping yet? Here, come weep with me. Yesterday, however, I wanted to scream. It took me an hour and 45 minutes to get home. I could have watched a feature length movie in that time. I could have baked, cooled and frosted cupcakes (were I to actually do such a thing.) I was looking at this great website that charts traffic patterns on the expressway that I drive and it appeared to be an errant fluke – defying the past 5 years of trend data. So, maybe it was the run. Or something else. I don’t know. But I fear the winter and the commute that it may bring. I am thinking the commuter train may be in my future once the snow hits.

That aside, I like the move overall thus far. Adam met our upstairs neighbor and said that he was very nice. Apparently they have a toddler as well, so they should be hopefully understanding when Benjamin has a middle of the night meltdown (or middle of the day, middle of the morning, 4:37pm meltdown, etc.). The parking is great. Carpets I think will be nice in some respects, disgusting in others. I’ve already used the dryer to engage in a little practice I like to call “Lazy Woman’s Ironing.” There are dishes in the dishwasher – dishes I don’t have to wash by hand. It’s good.

If I can live through the commute, it will be a very good move indeed. When I was younger, the thought of living anywhere but the city of Chicago was unthinkable. But, as I ease into my earliest old fart years, I am relaxing in my stance and finding that I can probably make a home just about anywhere as long as I am with my family.

That’s about all I am going to say about that right now.

I’m feeling a little nostalgic, but not entirely sad. There were things that I always disliked about this place.  Some things improved over time (the lovely gentleman downstairs – a very sweet man – moved out with this wife and the cigarette smell that always permeated the air vanished instantly) and others became way more cumbersome (living on the third floor was just nightmarish with an active toddler that always wants to be out, out, out). Plus, we live a slight march from the closest park and it’s hard to find usable green space here in the summer that is not already occupied by ball players or dog owners congregating with their pooches. And we are at the intersection of two major streets, making my heart skip a beat every time Ben would try to walk on the sidewalks since he always tried to dart into traffic. This required us to carry him to and from the apartment and car, giving us all manner of back pains. In short, this place isn’t working anymore for a variety of reasons. Still, it’s a very cute place and I appreciate the funky interior and exterior architecture. The place we are moving to now can best be described as “bland suburban,” but there are amenities that help overcome that inherent dullness.  And I am never one to shy away from color and decorative touches, so I think we can make the place passable with the inventive use of a multitude of colorful IKEA items and some posters and rugs.

The other day, when I was sitting in the sun room with Ben, I had the realization that this would likely be the last time – or one of the last times – that I was going to be playing with him against that backdrop. I was really tempted to get up and get the camera and take some pictures of him in there. Of course,  I worried that he would get distracted from his play if I got up and got the camera and so I just sat there and continued playing with him. I think there is something about this realization that speaks to the reality of living with a child. You can stop and be reflective, stop and be wistfully nostalgic, but you can really only give yourself a moment because while you are thinking about the past, the present is rolling right along right in front of your eyes. So I’ll be sad about leaving this place and the memories left behind. But Ben won’t let me get too sad or too wrapped up in the nostalgia because he’s waiting for me in the here and now to pick up a little toy train and barrel it down the little toy tracks.

Since I have a quiet moment to myself, though, I am going to bid a proper farewell to this place. A video tour, if you will, of the spaces that helped define the earliest months of our parenting. The place already doesn’t look the same, what with the boxes everywhere and the noticable lack of our stuff, but perhaps when I view the video in upcoming months and years, it will help to trigger the memories and take me right back to that experience.