Re-emerging from the 1960's

Our internet has been out for over a week.  Since our cellphones don't have any service without the signal booster attached to our internet, we also haven't had 3G, 4G, bars, cell service or any of the other lovely "necessities" that come along with the 21st century.  No phone, no email, no facebook, no instagram.  Probably anyone under the age of 25, feels my pain.  Anyone in my grandparents generation (rightfully) should play me a tune on a tiny violin.   I mean, I had to actually pull Joy of Cooking off the shelves (the real, physical, cookbook) in order to make homemade sausage the other night.  The absurdity. 

This week I've hung the laundry out on the line.  Had homemade meals every night.  Spent way more time reading books to my kids (since we had no netflix).   Jim commented more than once on the cleanliness of our house.  I ironed and mended (I know, I know...).  But all good things must come to an end.  Jim found the culprit (a switch underground), and fixed the problem like hero he is.  So we are back in the 21st century, and I'm gobbling up my missed blogs, forums and news sources like a backslidden addict. 

Robbie stands now.  He's hilarious because he hates to fall, so he lowers himself to and from the standing position like he's doing workout squats.

 He's officially making the transition from babyhood to toddlerdom.  His walking skills are a few weeks behind his emotions though.  The last week he's been acting more like a kid than a baby.  This morning, he wanted the nail clippers and when I told him no, he threw himself on the floor wailing.  When he turned and saw I was talking to Charlie and not paying attention to him.  He threw his pacifier at me, waited for me to turn my head and then re-threw himself on the floor wailing.   I foresee good times ahead in the Ramsey household.   Teaching a small biped to act like a reasonable member of the human race is never boring. 

Co-sleeping is also coming to an end.  Jamie wanted nothing to do with co-sleeping.  He just wailed until we would put him in his crib, where he'd curl up with a "thank goodness these idiots finally figured out what I wanted" and then promptly go to sleep.    We co-slept with Charlie until he was 10 months.  I don't remember what prompted the move from bed to crib (although it's hopefully recorded in this blog somewhere).  It took a couple of weeks to get him used to the crib, and then he was fine.   I had no plans to move Robbie to his own crib any time soon.  Because we're so busy during the day, he gets the majority of his breastmilk during the night.  It's a win win.   But the last few nights he just won't sleep.  He plows all over the bed like a mini bulldozer.  Snorting, growling, giggling and otherwise just being obnoxious.  He's exhausted, but won't settle down.   Each night I finally give up and put him in his crib, where he repeats his oldest brother's look of, "thank goodness these idiots are finally letting me get some rest".

I'm sort of heartbroken about it.  But my cousin just had a baby last week, and my sister-in-law is about to have a baby, so I'll just have to steal their offspring for some blessedly simple newborn snuggles.   No pacifier throwing or temper tantrums.  Just tiny little scrawny legs, scrunchy little faces and that delicious newborn smell...

Yeah, I should stop, before I talk myself into wanting another one. 
.