I’ve been meaning to write a post about how Cate is adapting to the new house, but the thing is… I don’t really know. It’s hard to tell with 18 month-olds. I can tell you that her sleep patterns are seriously messed up right now, and I think that has a lot to do with most of the tantrums we’ve been getting lately. Generally she’s been pretty happy, but her meltdowns have been much bigger than they were, say, a month ago. I’m not sure if that’s her age (starting the terrible two’s early), if it’s the lack of sleep, or if it’s the move. Probably all three. But when she’s happy, it’s great.
And then last night she stayed up until almost midnight, which was pretty horrendous. She still can’t seem to go down in her crib on her own, but I think that’s fine for right now. I’m not going to push the crying-it-out issue for at least a couple of weeks.
I have made one pretty huge gaffe, though. We’ve been careful to avoid talking about Patsy or the other kids at daycare unless she says their names, because I think there’s no need to bring it up and upset her. We did the same thing when we were staying with my folks in Mississippi – no one was allowed to say the word “Daddy” because it inevitably led to tears.
(Btw, I took a bunch of pictures of the kids at daycare before we left, and I finally got around to copying them off my camera today. You can go see them in this set, if you’re interested.)
(Another btw: before we moved, I gave Patsy and her daughter the URL for this site, so if you’re reading this, hi!)
So last night, I was getting Cate out of the bathtub and drying her off, and she started saying “doggy” over and over. She does this sometimes, talks about an animal that’s nowhere in sight, and usually I just roll with it. “Oh really, a doggy? Does the doggy say, ‘woof woof’? What color is the doggy?” etc.
And this is where I goofed up: I said, “Is the doggy’s name Shiloh?” Shiloh is one of Patsy’s dogs, and Cate loooved him. She called him Shi-boh. I should’ve known better than to say his name, I don’t know what I was thinking. Poor Cate’s eyes went huge and she stared at me for a few seconds, like she was trying to place exactly what Shiloh meant, then she remembered, and she frantically started signing and saying “shoes! shoes!” over and over. Like we were going to go get in the car and drive over to Patsy’s house to see Shiloh. So I said, “No, sweetheart, no shoes. It’s time to put on our PJ’s and get ready to go night-night.” And oh, the tears. There were many, many tears.
I think the moral of that story is that I’m an idiot who unnecessarily traumatized my child. The end.
Overall, though, things have been really good so far. We really like North Carolina, Dave likes his office, and the weather has been mercifully mild for the past couple of days, so we’ve been putting Cate in the stroller and going for little family walks in the evening. (Lovely except for the damn mosquitoes.) This is a really beautiful neighborhood and the people are unbelievably friendly. I’ve already met four other moms, and countless kids. Two boys came over yesterday to show us where a mama turtle buried her eggs in our front yard. So at least I’ll know what they’re doing when random kids show up to investigate a mound of dirt near our driveway.
Oh, and living in the suburbs where there are like 5 different grocery stores plus a Wal-Mart, a Target, and several restaurants (both fast food and sit-down) within a couple of miles of me? And having city water and sewer? And cable instead of satellite? LOVE. IT.
Sorry there haven’t been any pictures of the new house yet. It’s kind of embarassing to take pictures of the place when it’s covered in boxes. So for now, you’ll have to settle for pictures of our cute, tiny backyard.
We could mow that sucker in like 15 minutes. It’s awesome.