Week 17 Day 3: Step on the gas

Poor little dude woke up screaming at 9:00 tonight (he went to bed at 7). Not just crying, screaming. I hightailed it in there and could see him sitting in the middle of his crib in the near-dark. When I picked him up he settled down immediately, put his head on my shoulder and fell back asleep. Then I felt the farts. One after another, I could feel a percussive release of gas on the arm I was using to hold up his rear. "Ah ha," I thought. "Gas. That explains the screaming." Then I remembered what he'd eaten for dinner: lentils, hommus, and broccoli. My God, are we trying to kill him? Why not throw some soy bacon in there, too? (I actually don't know if that would cause him gas, but I do know from sad firsthand experience the diabolical effects soy bacon has on a certain greyhound's digestive emissions. Yes, Emma, I'm talking about you.) Stacy came home from Parent Club at this exact moment and I held the little vial of gas drops we keep in Gavin's first aid kit out to her. She dosed him and I put him right back to bed. Let's hope he stays asleep and his guts stays ache free for the rest of the night.

Hey, speaking of gas, one of the places I took Gavin today was the gas station to fill up the van.  He didn't get out of the car or anything, so I don't know that this really counts as a place Gavin has been to. But I did make faces at him through the window while I pumped. He enjoyed this very much, though he also liked to watch the cars go by on Woodward.

Our actual destinations today were Cartridge World for more printer ink and Ace Hardware for some mulch. I know what you're thinking, "D'Anne, slow down. You have a kid now. You can't just drag him to places like that. It's not safe. " To you I say, "It's my life. Don't judge."

Cartridge World is actually not a fun place to go, though if Gavin could talk he would probably say otherwise. The last time we were there we were rung up by a 12-year-old boy who I presume was the owner's son. And I guess I should say the last time I was there, since Gavin wasn't born yet. In any case, I guess I kind of expected this family tableau to play itself out again, but instead of a little boy a hulking man emerged from behind a closed door. He lumbered over to the counter, his face ruddy and his shirt very, very stained with what I presume to be ink and foodstuffs. It's possible that I interrupted him while he was in the middle of eating a heart attack sandwich. The store also smelled like cigarette smoke. This would ordinarily cause me to turn around and leave, but it didn't smell like someone was actively smoking, just that someone has in the past and probably will again. Also, I don't plan to wear, eat, give to my son to play with, or save forever the ink cartridges I bought today. (They do, however, sell cookies from a little BallCap Bakery display on the counter at this particular Cartridge World. The in-store smoking pretty much renders them ashtray cookies. Such a waste.) The man was very taken with Gavin and got some smiles out of him. I gave Gavin the receipt to hold which pleased him greatly. On my way out the man complimented Gavin's handsomeness again and then asked, "Is he your only one?" "Yep," I said and headed out the door to some fresh air. It was a weird question, I think. Why would it matter to this guy with yellow, magenta, and cyan stains all over his shirt whether or not I have more than one kid? I choose to think his asking was his way of saying, "You have a really cute kid, you should make some more." Not that this doesn't churn up internal conflict.

Gavin helped Stacy and I in the yard this evening. I was spreading the mulch I bought and Stacy was wrangling Gavin and pulling weeds. We put a big blanket on the grass for Gavin but he didn't stay on it for long. He was crawling all over the yard. In fact, I am afraid to look at the knees of the pants he was wearing because they're probably all grass stained. Oh well, it won't be the last time, I'm sure. Gavin was most interested in getting the weed bucket and eventually Stacy stopped trying to keep him from it. The result, pictured here, was a baby with a lap covered in uprooted dandelions and other yard debris. And while he looks disconcerted in the photo, he actually liked it very much. God, I hope he doesn't have allergies like mine.