Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Movin' Out (Ninja's Song)

Ever since Finn was born, we've had one goal in mind - to get him out of the house. All he does is sit around all day in his own filth, forcing us to wait on him hand and foot. We slave all day and all we get in return is a house that looks like a dilapidated used-toy store and smells like a public toilet. It's high time that kid got a job and a place of his own.

As far as the job part goes, we've put feelers out to all sport footwear manufacturers in the greater Beaverton, OR area. We heard they're always hiring and they don't ask for proof of age. We haven't waited on getting him his own place. As of last Thursday, he now resides right down the hallway in Nurserytown.

This is a big change for us, since he's lived in a little elevated box next to our bed for the past six months. This has been great for those times that you're just dying to wake up at 3 AM, terrified that he's stopped breathing, since you can just reach over to check before rolling back over to your side of the bed and staring at the ceiling for another hour. Unfortunately, having him there cuts down significantly on "adult" time in the room, if you know what I mean1.

Determined to reclaim our room and hoping to begin down the road toward sleeping through the night, we moved Finn into the nursery on Thursday night.
After weeks of sleeping portions of the night in different rooms, we figured that now we could just take turns listening to the monitor. Things did not go exactly as planned. Don't get me wrong, Finn slept fine. It was the parents that had the problem.

Turns out the monitor is at least as disruptive as the live boy in the room, without the cuteness to balance it out. Every little sound he makes in his sleep shoots right through the ether, into our ear-holes and through to our sleeping brains, waking us instantly. We both tossed and turned until I bailed out for the guestroom with my little electronic son in hand2 in an effort to give Kitty a little break.
Thus as we work through this transitional period, we've fully adopted a 1950's television approach to sleeping and taken it to the extreme. We not only each have our own beds, each member of the family now has his or her own room.

Having my own room again is sweet. Sharing with Finn was really cramping my style. I'm thinking about covering the walls in late 80's Absolut ads and the windowsills with "fancy" beer bottles, just like in college. Back when Sam Adams was fancy.

Finn seems to have settled into the new situation too. He's sleeping more or less the same as he did before, but he has had a couple of longer stretches in there. Most notably, from 7:30 PM until 3 AM. Unfortunately for Kitty, at 3 AM he was pretty sure it was morning time. Luckily my shift was over by then and I was back in my room playing beer pong with the co-eds from across the street.

Here's a pic of Finn doing his best Kilroy impersonation in his crib. I think I need to lower that mattress before he starts climbing over.


1 If you guessed that I meant time spent giving nightly feedback on every outfit that Kitty plans on wearing for the next 6 years, you were exactly right.
2 As Kitty has opined, it seems unfair to assume he'll sleep through the night when we can't.
And I used to be so good at sleeping. Ask all of my former bosses.

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