Chugga...chugga...chugga...chugga...

Earlier this year, the G-man had an almost unnatural affection for hoses. If we went anywhere that had a hose, he was hooked. I started compiling photos of him with the hoses about town. He talked about them in the stroller. He thought (and kind of still does) that anything resembling a hose - an electric cord, piece of rope, the phone lines - was a hose. It was cute. Odd, but cute.


Then came the lawn mowers. Oh, to see a lawn getting mowed! Professional crews amazed him. A neighbor doing a trim was fascinating. We scheduled time for scott to mow so G-man could watch. All around the neighborhood he spied mowers, heard mowers, talked about mowers. We ordered him some mower brochures from Honda to "read" and he loved them. He still gets a kick out of the lawn mower but it's nothing to call an intervention on.

After the lawn mowers, I learned he loves tractors. LOVES tractors. Needed to see them on his farm video. Was a bit wary but still mesmerized by them at the pumpkin patches. His nana and pop-pop brought him a bunch of brochures from a John Deer dealer and he perused them at breakfast and then spread them out in the living room for endless entertainment. He delighted in finding tractors in books and on toy displays. I thought this was the beginning of an obsession.

Then came...the trains. The mighty choo-choos. Seemingly overnight, he's gone from a normal toddler to one with TRAIN ON THE BRAIN. Trains are his all-consuming reason for being. I am amazed. I have never seen anything occupy his every thought like this. Such sheer focus would be almost incredible...if only...I didn't find it...a little...annoying. 

Ack, did I just say that?! His favorite thing annoys me? How can that be? I revel in every moment of his life, especially the ones that offer such unreserved joy. Finding something to make him smile makes me smile. But sometimes it goes too far.

He drifts off to sleep at night singing about trains. He wakes up talking about them. The train book is on its millionth reading. He constantly asks, "Watch choo-choo?" or "Play choo-choo?" He wants to take a toy train to Gymboree, to the dinner table, to bed. Anything lined up - a row of hedges, the dock bar on my mac, the baggage cart at the airport - draws an exclamation of "CHOO-CHOO!" I have to sing 'I've been working on the railroad' at nap time. 

He's so keen on the idea of trains that we gave him the big birthday/xmas gift from my parents last week. A train table! With three trains, loads of track (that regrettably makes sounds), a tunnel and a crane. The first day, he played with it for 10 hours. Ten. A few small breaks for food, nap and bedtime were all that stood between him and a non-stop 24-hour railroad experience. 

Since then, he's played with it, well, constantly. It's like G-man crack. I fear he has a true addiction. Nothing is as important as this train set. And before you think, well, you got a break at least while he's occupied, oh no. Not true. Mommy also has to love trains. There is a mommy choo-choo. Usually reserved for the lesser, lower track, but required to be in motion at all times. But motion according to G-man. Move it when he doesn't want you to, nudge it backwards at an inappropriate time or touch his train with it at all and suffer the consequences. The screaming, possibly tearing up of the track consequences. This activity can simultaneously bring out the best and the worst in him.

We've been humoring him, letting him set the rules and pace of the train world. Even encouraging some of the love by showing him train pictures or pointing out when the whistles blow in the distance. Today we took him to Union Station to see the huge model train display, the kid size ride-on train (at $5, it's a rip), and actual trains pulling into/out of the station. How did he thank us? By pitching a fit when it was time to go. Ok, I get it, he is thanking us by showing how much he really enjoyed being there. But is a pleasant little good-bye choo-choo instead of hello tears so much to ask for?

So now what? Do we let him overdose on trains, like when kids try cigarettes and you make them smoke the whole pack, so the mania will die down faster? Or do we enjoy that he has a "thing" that he loves and wants the world to know and see where it goes?

I kind of have my decision. I give him total train freedom but still remind him of other things to do, like his blocks, push toys and aquadoodle (where I am forced to draw many different choo-choos that, frankly, all look the same) to avoid a glassy-eyed coma at the train table. After all, there is a part of him that is not, pardon the pun, on board. I know this because I still have to set the world-record daily for listening to Five Little Monkeys; I spend large portions of my afternoon looking for the right Little People "neigh" to go with a cart; and my lap is often occupied by a wee kiddo with an impressive list of book demands.

For the most part, though, there is a train thundering down the track in my head and I'll just have to ride this one out.

What's next? Please don't let it be crickets.

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What was I just talking about?

When I was pregnant, I heard all about "pregnancy brain," the complete inability to remember anything, ever. And yes, it was as if a switch had been turned off inside. Short-term memory was but, well, a memory. At least, I think it was. 

You could get away with a lot when you claimed pregnancy brain. Lost keys. Missed appointments. Repeat conversations. It was deemed cute and so were you.

After I had the G-man, my mind didn't miraculously bounce back overnight. I attributed this to sleep deprivation, a laser-focus on keeping him alive and being overwhelmed that the hospital would send someone so obviously ill-equipped for this great responsibility home without so much as 24-hour supervision. We forgot about opening our xmas presents. We almost forgot our anniversary. We barely remembered his name or ours. Clearly, this was not the time to go on Jeopardy.

I assumed that at some point, my mental capacities would return and there would be peace in the land. Or at least eggs in the fridge. Much to my dismay, it's been almost two years and I still feel like my mind is a sieve. Sure, I remember some things, but usually around 3:00 in the morning and by 6:00, they're gone, too. I've realized that this isn't temporary. I'm suffering from Momnesia. 

Maybe it's the crapload of new information entering our brains every day from web sites, books and personal conversations. Maybe it's having to think for two. Maybe it's just that the only way we can survive some days is to have a little black hole suck out random thoughts to make room for more. Whatever it is, it's annoying. I would like to know what I came into a room for; whether or not I gave the dog a snack; what Scott's mobile number is; and how to get out of the house without having to go back in three times for something I forgot.

Too much to ask?

I was at a birthday party for one of G-man's friends this afternoon and invited myself into a conversation about this phenomenon. Turns out, I'm not the only one. The mommies in our group feel like we are all entering the early stages of dementia. How will we know if one of us really gets alzheimer's? Chances are, even if we did figure it out, we'd forget. 

I try to stay sharp but it's a losing battle. A little ground I can concede, but this is erosion on an epic scale. Sadly, you, my lovely readers, are losing as well. Momnesia sucks the ideas I want to talk about right from my mind. I have composed what I'm sure is Pulitzer-caliber material in my head only to have it shrunk down to a vague thought by the time I get the computer to wake up. I'm not talking about one amazing line I wish I could have shared, but entire topics that have vanished. Even this paragraph was better an hour ago but there was bath time to attend to and it seems my word choices went down the drain as well.

How to battle this no longer cute affliction? I could definitely, uh, wait, um...what the hell was I just saying? Who knows. But there is some cocoa calling my name. Was that it? No. Oh well.

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What a difference a day makes

They say toddlers change every day. I've found it to be more like every hour. I'm always seeing the G-man do something new or he's always discovering a great talent (like, picking his nose) for the first time. This weekend was no different, although we did have the experience of his second Halloween. 

Facebook used to have a thing about writing 25 surprising items about yourself. I'm going to modify that with 20 things I've learned in the past 24 hours.

1. I will wait in line in the cold for 2.5 hours for G-man to get his H1N1 shot

2. G-man will wait approximately 1.5 minutes before becoming bored in line

3. To some, crackers are more appealing than pizza

4. Toddlers do not like to get into costume

5. G-man likes twizzlers

6. Cute costumes get more loot

7. You can eat a kit-kat without unwrapping it first

8. If you give G-man a lollipop, he will make an epic, sticky mess with it

9. You'll never get a lion costume's mane to look good again after you wash it

10. Do not use your good brush to fluff up the lion's mane

11. If you leave a basket of candy out on the stoop with a sign saying help yourself, all of your candy will quickly be gone

12. You really can eat too much chocolate

13. Toddlers do not care about daylight savings time

14. I make lousy coffee

15. The demand for a waffle is in indirect proportion to how many waffles you have left

16. Sidewalk chalk can be used to color the dog

17. Power Wheels are more fun to push than ride on

18. If there is a puddle available, the G-man or I will sit in it

19. Anything can cause a tantrum

20. Thomas the Tank Engine is truly a terrible show

Now I wonder what I'll learn tomorrow?

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