Recently, we started giving The Child finger food. We started with those little star shaped puffs that Gerber makes. They melt away in your mouth really quickly, and apparently are just the right size and shape for little fingers to pick up. We're probably a little late in introducing them, but I'm paranoid, and needed the official "ok" from the pediatrician to start.
Anyways, we gave a few to The Child. She picked one up and tried to put it in her mouth. But although she got it there just fine, she didn't know what to do with it after that, and just kind of slobbered on it in her hand. Being a "fast dissolving" food, it started dissolving in her hand. Except instead of dissolving, it just got sticky, and stuck to her fingers. This presented a dilemma for her, and the hand began to open, close, open close, open close...each time moving the cereal puff to a different part of her hand. Transferring it to the other hand did not solve the problem, and trying to put it in her mouth only made it more sticky.
And so, Husband and I stood there, laughing at The Child as she tried to 1) eat the puff, and 2) figure out how to get it off her hand. She's getting better, but whenever I need a few minutes of entertainment, I give her some puffs to...um..."let her practice feeding herself," but really, for some comic relief.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Lessons Learned:
So now that The Child is mobile, I have had to re-assess where she plays, and what all is lying around when she's exploring the floor. I figured a basket of laundry was relatively benign, and posed no threat. I was right. What I didn't count on was her pulling up on said basket of folded laundry, and, piece by piece, throwing everything out of the basket while I spaced out for 30 seconds and checked my email. Point: Baby.
Lesson learned: although the basement play zone is baby friendly (except for the entertainment center....not sure what to do about that), folded laundry in that zone will not stay folded for long.
Lesson learned: although the basement play zone is baby friendly (except for the entertainment center....not sure what to do about that), folded laundry in that zone will not stay folded for long.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Is "South Park" holding auditions?
Lets just get this over with: No, I don't regularly watch South Park. Yes, I know they are offensive. But at least they're equal opportunity offenders. No one is immune from their parody/ridicule. Moving on...
The Child has been experimenting with different sounds. Mostly, its "aaah," or some sort of garbled drooly babble. A few weeks ago, she learned how to blow kisses. But only the sound, not with hand motions yet. So that has been one of her favorite sounds to make. Today she learned how to click her tongue. And she decided to combine that with her kisses/lip smacking noise . Sounds something like this "kiss kiss, click, kiss, click, click. Kiss, click." Basically, she does a dead-on impression of South Park's Starvin' Marvin, the "Ethernopian."
The Child has been experimenting with different sounds. Mostly, its "aaah," or some sort of garbled drooly babble. A few weeks ago, she learned how to blow kisses. But only the sound, not with hand motions yet. So that has been one of her favorite sounds to make. Today she learned how to click her tongue. And she decided to combine that with her kisses/lip smacking noise . Sounds something like this "kiss kiss, click, kiss, click, click. Kiss, click." Basically, she does a dead-on impression of South Park's Starvin' Marvin, the "Ethernopian."
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Reason #2 why The Child (or I) will need therapy:
I am with her all day, every day (and maybe this should be reason #3), so I see her small little developmental steps all the time. For a few weeks, she has been getting ready to crawl. At first she would just lunge at things. Then she figured out how to roll across the room. About a week ago, she learned how to sit herself up from laying down. Most recently, she's been rocking back and forth on her knees, and frequently straightening her legs...which looks like she's doing her own version of yoga's Downward Dog. But no actual crawling, unless you count a few scoots with her legs on her tummy.
Tonight, I got to go out to a baby shower for a friend. Sans baby. Wonderful husband watched The Child for about 4 hours while I was gone. 4 hours, which started with her slamming her head into the coffee table shortly after Husband took over playing with her so that I could get ready to go. Drama ensued, but having survived that, and being after distracted by a fun new book, she continued to play. So off I went to have some grown-up time with my friends. However, while I was gone, she crawled. And I missed it. Thankfully, Husband grabbed the video camera and got her to crawl a few more times while he recorded it. After I got done crying, I watched her crawl around the living room. It's comical, to say the least, because she does it with one leg bent (knee on the ground), and the other leg up (knee up, foot on the ground).
So when she's older, I'll have to tell her that I missed a major milestone because I was out at a party. A very fun, and much needed "break from the baby" party, but the guilt is still there. I guess this will be something for the "bring your parent to therapy" session.
Tonight, I got to go out to a baby shower for a friend. Sans baby. Wonderful husband watched The Child for about 4 hours while I was gone. 4 hours, which started with her slamming her head into the coffee table shortly after Husband took over playing with her so that I could get ready to go. Drama ensued, but having survived that, and being after distracted by a fun new book, she continued to play. So off I went to have some grown-up time with my friends. However, while I was gone, she crawled. And I missed it. Thankfully, Husband grabbed the video camera and got her to crawl a few more times while he recorded it. After I got done crying, I watched her crawl around the living room. It's comical, to say the least, because she does it with one leg bent (knee on the ground), and the other leg up (knee up, foot on the ground).
So when she's older, I'll have to tell her that I missed a major milestone because I was out at a party. A very fun, and much needed "break from the baby" party, but the guilt is still there. I guess this will be something for the "bring your parent to therapy" session.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Child Does Democracy
Yesterday, I took The Child to vote. Well, she herself did not vote, but I took her with me. And not just because I had to (because I have no babysitter/no where else to send her). Despite the fact that she's only 8 months old, I wanted to expose her to the democratic process, and the importance of voting.
So we took our time getting ready in the morning. I had every intention of voting, but absolutely zero intention of trying to entertain her in a voting line for 3 hours. Around 10:30, we were ready to go, and off we went. After waiting for only 10 minutes, I was in the voting booth (basically a glorified mini-folding table with a 3-sided cardboard box on top of it), filling in my ballot. Natalie was parked next to me in her stroller, sucking on...well...anything she could get her hands on.
At that point, she decided to voice her opinion of the electoral process and candidates. She began her morning poo, loud and clear, with toots and grunts, in the middle of the tense, dead-silent voting room. Charming. But I guess she made her opinion known!
So we took our time getting ready in the morning. I had every intention of voting, but absolutely zero intention of trying to entertain her in a voting line for 3 hours. Around 10:30, we were ready to go, and off we went. After waiting for only 10 minutes, I was in the voting booth (basically a glorified mini-folding table with a 3-sided cardboard box on top of it), filling in my ballot. Natalie was parked next to me in her stroller, sucking on...well...anything she could get her hands on.
At that point, she decided to voice her opinion of the electoral process and candidates. She began her morning poo, loud and clear, with toots and grunts, in the middle of the tense, dead-silent voting room. Charming. But I guess she made her opinion known!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Natalie's New Nemesis
Today was the day The Child discovered broccoli. I should have known by the look on her face before she even had the spoon in her mouth. One sniff and she looked at me as if trying to say, "Mom, are you sure about this?" Wearing a big smile and with a happy voice, I encouraged her, and she opened her mouth. In went the spoon, and about 0.18 seconds later, out came the broccoli. This was followed by what can only be described as a violent visceral reaction just slightly less forceful than when she first tried pears (which she now loves). Somehow, I managed to convince her to try another bite, and that did not go any better. It was, in fact, followed by crying and tears. Big tears. As if the broccoli had somehow maimed her soul. At that point, carrots came to the rescue, and all was well with the world.
She still won't eat peas, and eats green beans with bare minimum enthusiasm. I guess another green veggie bites the dust. I'll keep trying, but I'm not holding my breath.
She still won't eat peas, and eats green beans with bare minimum enthusiasm. I guess another green veggie bites the dust. I'll keep trying, but I'm not holding my breath.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The Child Explores Beauty Products
Well, in the form of food anyways. A particularly messy dinner led her to style her hair with blueberry applesauce, and try her hand with green-bean-bronzer. Personally, I think she's on the cutting edge of beauty design. ; )
Happy Halloween!
Natalie is ready for her first Halloween. Costume verdict was a ladybug. Sorry Kate, ladybug = cute. Chewbacca = creepy.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Motherhood Epiphany
A few days ago, I realized why people have more than one child (I concede ahead of time that this may not be the *only* reason why people decide to bring #2 into this world): the clothes. I packed up The Child's 6 month clothes, and it made me so sad! Her grandmothers have made sure she is the best dressed baby girl in our county, and now she will never wear those outfits again. That seems almost.....wasteful! All of my favorite outfits of hers are folded up in a Rubbermaid bin, perhaps only to see the light of day at a garage sale in 7 years. Tragic.
Then, the following though briefly crossed my mind: I'll need to have 4 kids. 2 of each, so that I can really do the clothes justice. Like I said, briefly.
Then, the following though briefly crossed my mind: I'll need to have 4 kids. 2 of each, so that I can really do the clothes justice. Like I said, briefly.
Monday, October 13, 2008
High Chair Crime Scene
My kitchen could have doubled for a CSI scene today. The splatter pattern was perfect, there were a few smears, and definite finger prints. Suspect: The Child. Mystery substance: Carrots. Mode of action: A sneeze. Actually, lots of them.
Mommy lesson learned: Do not feed The Child dark colored foods when she is sneezey and has a cold.
Mommy lesson learned: Do not feed The Child dark colored foods when she is sneezey and has a cold.
All bets are off
It figures. Just as we were getting the hang of the night time routine, and she wasn't "crying it out" so much as half-heartedly fussing when she woke up in the middle of the night, it hits. She has a runny nose and is sneezey. Now, I don't know if it's a cold, or if she's actually teething (I've thought she's been teething for the past 4 months, so the former is more likely), but a runny nose and sneezing indicates that something is going on. Something that's making her uncomfortable. And, knowing that, I can't let her fuss it out anymore. So everyone cross your fingers that this passes quickly, and that nights of 10 hours of sleep filled with sweet dreams soon return. In the meantime, I'm stocking up on coffee.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Reason #1 why The Child will need therapy:
After being about 30 seconds away from a complete and total mental breakdown (at 4 in the morning) about a week ago from the Sleepless Wonder (see previous post), I decided there simply MUST be something wrong with her. Why else would a baby be so completely incapable of sleeping? So off to the pediatrician we went. The diagnosis: a perfectly healthy, non-teething, non-ear-infection-having, non-constipated baby. Hooray! Oh, and this baby no longer knows how to go back to sleep when she wakes up, and freaks out....hence exhausted mom.
His recommendation: Time to cry it out. Now, before I had The Child, I was of firm mindset that babies only cried when something was wrong, and it was the Mom's duty to figure it out, and address that need. It was how they knew to trust you, know you'll meet their needs, blah blah blah. And I still believe that to a degree. But I have needs too. Namely, a good night sleep (meaning, not getting up for 2 hour stretches from 2-4 am every night....as had become our nightly ritual).
So, I talked about this with Husband. And having been convinced that this will not make me a neglectful mother, we decided to try it. Night 1 = hysterical screaming for 55 minutes (baby, not me), followed by a Pomegranate martini (for me) when she finally stopped. Each night has improved, just like everyone told us it would, but my guilt has not. She still greets me with a huge grin in the morning, reaches for me and kicks her feet with excitement in anticipation of being picked up out of her crib, so I know she isn't holding that big of a grudge.
However, I'm convinced that this has started the list of reasons why, no matter what I do, my child will need therapy. Anyone know a good pediatric shrink I can use in about 16 years?
His recommendation: Time to cry it out. Now, before I had The Child, I was of firm mindset that babies only cried when something was wrong, and it was the Mom's duty to figure it out, and address that need. It was how they knew to trust you, know you'll meet their needs, blah blah blah. And I still believe that to a degree. But I have needs too. Namely, a good night sleep (meaning, not getting up for 2 hour stretches from 2-4 am every night....as had become our nightly ritual).
So, I talked about this with Husband. And having been convinced that this will not make me a neglectful mother, we decided to try it. Night 1 = hysterical screaming for 55 minutes (baby, not me), followed by a Pomegranate martini (for me) when she finally stopped. Each night has improved, just like everyone told us it would, but my guilt has not. She still greets me with a huge grin in the morning, reaches for me and kicks her feet with excitement in anticipation of being picked up out of her crib, so I know she isn't holding that big of a grudge.
However, I'm convinced that this has started the list of reasons why, no matter what I do, my child will need therapy. Anyone know a good pediatric shrink I can use in about 16 years?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
"What I should have said was Nothing"
The quote from my favorite comedian, Mike Birbiglia, really says it best. The Child was such a good sleeper, and I LOVED it. In bed, by 9:30, up around 8:30. I was always so happy to say how well she slept when the weary moms in my parenting group asked about it. And, what I should have said was nothing. Because karma is a *****. You can fill in that blank yourself.
The past month or so, The Child has started waking up around 3 am. Sometimes just to be rocked back to sleep, sometimes for a 2 hour fussy/feeding marathon. She isn't fully awake, but she is screaming, and crying, and most definitely NOT calming down by herself. However, last night we took it to a whole new level.
The bedtime routine started off fine. A little early, but the "load up on cereal, fruit and veggies," bath, book, nurse, and sleep" routine was in tact. And by about 9:00, she was in her crib. And then she woke up at 11. Another 3 HOURS went by before she was finally asleep. And those were not pleasant 3 hours. They were filled with her screaming, fighting, refusing to do anything but nurse or sit and play with her toys. Asleep by 2 AM, and at 3:30, she was up again for her "normal" midnight fussing. Oh, and she was up for the day at 9:30, as if nothing happened.
I thought babies needed lots of sleep. Apparently not the Sleepless Wonder that is my child. Thank goodness for home brewed Starbucks.
The past month or so, The Child has started waking up around 3 am. Sometimes just to be rocked back to sleep, sometimes for a 2 hour fussy/feeding marathon. She isn't fully awake, but she is screaming, and crying, and most definitely NOT calming down by herself. However, last night we took it to a whole new level.
The bedtime routine started off fine. A little early, but the "load up on cereal, fruit and veggies," bath, book, nurse, and sleep" routine was in tact. And by about 9:00, she was in her crib. And then she woke up at 11. Another 3 HOURS went by before she was finally asleep. And those were not pleasant 3 hours. They were filled with her screaming, fighting, refusing to do anything but nurse or sit and play with her toys. Asleep by 2 AM, and at 3:30, she was up again for her "normal" midnight fussing. Oh, and she was up for the day at 9:30, as if nothing happened.
I thought babies needed lots of sleep. Apparently not the Sleepless Wonder that is my child. Thank goodness for home brewed Starbucks.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
'Tis the Season
No, not Christmas. Halloween!
I stopped dressing up for Halloween years ago, but now I get to start having fun with it again, through The Child. However, this does pose a dilemma. What am I going to dress her up as for her first Halloween? It actually seems like a kind of weighty decision. It is her FIRST Halloween, and I only get one or 2 of these to decide for her, before she decides what she wants to be for all subsequent Halloweens.
Given that she is a girly-girl (or so I have decided), I think there are plenty of Princess, Ballerina, and Fairy years to come, so those options are out. And she has her Ohio State cheer-leading outfit (thank you again Ruth!), but that is for Game Days. Obviously, her costume needs to be cute. And it needs to be girly, but not obnoxiously girly. Cool girly. But still insanely adorable for a baby of 8 months for their first Halloween.
My thought was a ladybug, butterfly, or maybe a bee. Anyone who has seen her nursery will tell you I'm not very creative with these ideas, since they are also the theme of her nursery. So I'm opening the floor to suggestions. Actually, to be more accurate, I'm begging. If anyone actually reads this blog, please send a suggestion my way. If it is something I want to attempt to make on my sewing machine (which is still in the box, untouched), I need ample time to fail, call my mom, try again, and then go buy it at Target or Pottery Barn Kids.
I stopped dressing up for Halloween years ago, but now I get to start having fun with it again, through The Child. However, this does pose a dilemma. What am I going to dress her up as for her first Halloween? It actually seems like a kind of weighty decision. It is her FIRST Halloween, and I only get one or 2 of these to decide for her, before she decides what she wants to be for all subsequent Halloweens.
Given that she is a girly-girl (or so I have decided), I think there are plenty of Princess, Ballerina, and Fairy years to come, so those options are out. And she has her Ohio State cheer-leading outfit (thank you again Ruth!), but that is for Game Days. Obviously, her costume needs to be cute. And it needs to be girly, but not obnoxiously girly. Cool girly. But still insanely adorable for a baby of 8 months for their first Halloween.
My thought was a ladybug, butterfly, or maybe a bee. Anyone who has seen her nursery will tell you I'm not very creative with these ideas, since they are also the theme of her nursery. So I'm opening the floor to suggestions. Actually, to be more accurate, I'm begging. If anyone actually reads this blog, please send a suggestion my way. If it is something I want to attempt to make on my sewing machine (which is still in the box, untouched), I need ample time to fail, call my mom, try again, and then go buy it at Target or Pottery Barn Kids.
Spider Trumps Baby
The other day, I was driving home from my parenting group (or, as Husband likes to call it, therapy). We were nearing the freeway entrance ramp, and The Child starts fussing. Now, I used to pull over all the time whenever she started to fuss, and what would have been a 10 minute drive would turn into a 30 minute drive. That lasted for about a week, and now I just sing show-tunes or silly songs, or she just has to fuss until we reach our destination.
Anyways, fussing ensues, followed my the best Julie Andrews I can muster. Unfortunately, the fussing continues, but I had every intention of just letting her fuss it out. 20 minutes wasn't going to kill her. I checked my passenger mirror to merge into the lane needed for the freeway on-ramp, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A spider. On the passenger seat, IN MY CAR. And not just any spider...this thing was so hairy, it was borderline mammalian. It wasn't huge, probably the size of my pinky fingernail, but again...the hair. And it was on the move.
Now, a fussy baby is no reason for me to pull over, but a mobile spider-mammal on my front passenger seat most certainly is. Thank goodness for the "last minute" gas station right before the entrance ramp, because I probably would have wrecked the car trying to eliminate the threat on the freeway. I can't have some furry 8 legged creature crawling around, and potentially touching me. Or The Child (I'll admit it, she was the 2nd one I thought about the spider "getting.").
So the furry beast was sent to the Great Web in the Sky, and The Child continued to fuss most of the way home. Well, until I started to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," which, ironically, is her favorite song. I'm not joking.
Anyways, fussing ensues, followed my the best Julie Andrews I can muster. Unfortunately, the fussing continues, but I had every intention of just letting her fuss it out. 20 minutes wasn't going to kill her. I checked my passenger mirror to merge into the lane needed for the freeway on-ramp, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A spider. On the passenger seat, IN MY CAR. And not just any spider...this thing was so hairy, it was borderline mammalian. It wasn't huge, probably the size of my pinky fingernail, but again...the hair. And it was on the move.
Now, a fussy baby is no reason for me to pull over, but a mobile spider-mammal on my front passenger seat most certainly is. Thank goodness for the "last minute" gas station right before the entrance ramp, because I probably would have wrecked the car trying to eliminate the threat on the freeway. I can't have some furry 8 legged creature crawling around, and potentially touching me. Or The Child (I'll admit it, she was the 2nd one I thought about the spider "getting.").
So the furry beast was sent to the Great Web in the Sky, and The Child continued to fuss most of the way home. Well, until I started to sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," which, ironically, is her favorite song. I'm not joking.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Some people go to the zoo for the animals...
The Child seems to not care about the animals at the zoo. She prefers to look at the people walking by. Kangaroos hopping around? Who cares! There's a person with a red shirt next to her. Seals swimming up to the glass right in front of her? Only mildly entertaining, when compared with the baby in the stroller next to her.
She loves animals in books, and, much to their annoyance, loves our cats. But when given the choice, she prefers to people watch. If she thinks the people watching is good at the zoo, she's going to love the State Fair...
She loves animals in books, and, much to their annoyance, loves our cats. But when given the choice, she prefers to people watch. If she thinks the people watching is good at the zoo, she's going to love the State Fair...
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Child Is All Knowing
The Child usually gets up between 8:30 and 9:30. I know....lucky me. So today, I thought I'd get up at 7 to get some things done that I really needed to get done, and was unable to efficiently accomplish with The Child awake. Husband woke me up, so there was no way the alarm would wake The Child. However, when my feet hit the ground, she started crying and was awake. I mean LITERALLY, the moment they touched the ground, at 7:03 this morning, she let me know she was up and wanted attention. She never gets up that early. Ever. Except today. Because, I'm now convinced, she knows not only when I want to eat (at which point, fussing also ensues), but also when I want to do anything not involving her. That's right, my 6 months old daughter is a psychic. Hooray.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Apparently, we have a Routine
They say kids need a routine, and in fact, do better with one. Now, I'm totally in favor of this, and had actually thought to myself, "Self, we really should put The Child on a routine sometime soon." Apparently, she's already on one, and does NOT like it when it is disrupted. As evidenced by the child that emerged this past Saturday night, and Sunday.
Saturday night, my parents came up. And while I'm thrilled that they were here, they arrived around 8-ish, which is when Bedtime Routine usually starts. It never occured to me that this might be a problem. Well, let me correct that statement. It didn't occur to me until around 2 am, and I kicked Husband out of bed to deal with The Child because I'd already been up 2 other times that night, that it might be a problem. I'm usually blessed by her sleeping around 10-12 hours (that's right, jealous?) at night. Such was not the case that night. She didn't go to bed until 10:30, and was up at 12:00, 1:15, and 2.
And one would think that everything would be "reset" in the morning when she woke up, right? Oh no, no, no. Not following our (as yet unrealized) routine = very unpleasant baby. All day. Or maybe she just didn't want me to unpack from our move 2 weeks ago. Regardless, I've learned my lesson, and have come to accept the fact that she is no longer a blob that lays on the floor (or wherever else you put her down). Although I'm not exactly sure what it is, The Routine is now a necessary part of life.
Saturday night, my parents came up. And while I'm thrilled that they were here, they arrived around 8-ish, which is when Bedtime Routine usually starts. It never occured to me that this might be a problem. Well, let me correct that statement. It didn't occur to me until around 2 am, and I kicked Husband out of bed to deal with The Child because I'd already been up 2 other times that night, that it might be a problem. I'm usually blessed by her sleeping around 10-12 hours (that's right, jealous?) at night. Such was not the case that night. She didn't go to bed until 10:30, and was up at 12:00, 1:15, and 2.
And one would think that everything would be "reset" in the morning when she woke up, right? Oh no, no, no. Not following our (as yet unrealized) routine = very unpleasant baby. All day. Or maybe she just didn't want me to unpack from our move 2 weeks ago. Regardless, I've learned my lesson, and have come to accept the fact that she is no longer a blob that lays on the floor (or wherever else you put her down). Although I'm not exactly sure what it is, The Routine is now a necessary part of life.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Things No One Tells You
1. How little you can really get done during the day with a 6 month old. It is embarrassing and I will not further elaborate.
2. How insanely efficient you become during said 6 month old's naps. Eating, cleaning, laundry, phone calls, bill paying, and catching up on Project Runway are now crammed into 30-60 minute power sessions. Oh, and blogging.
3. How much of an idiot you become. I'm not talking about actual loss of intelligence (although, some days I do think there is a loss there as well), I'm talking about making a total fool of yourself. Since The Child can't talk back to me in the form of anything other than screams and shrieks, I pretty much talk to myself all day. My internal monologue is no longer internal, and I channel Julie Andrews in Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, and The Sound of Music on a regular basis. And not just in the privacy of my home or car. People have actually turned around in the store and asked me to clarify what i just said, because they thought I was addressing them. Nope, don't mind me...I'm just babbling to myself, all for the supposed verbal/intellectual benefit of The Child.
4. How many people (total strangers) feel compelled to touch The Child, and start up a conversation with you. Especially old ladies with visibly dirty hands and fingernails. I mean, I know The Child is the most adorable child to ever grace their presence (hee hee), but is there really a need to touch? And they simply MUST touch her hands, face, toys and feet, which are now also her toys. Of course, The Child loves this attention, and smiles at them, which only further encourages them to contaminate her. Yes, I said contaminate. I haven't yet figured out a way to tell them to keep their hands to themselves, so I just Purell the goodness out of whatever appendage they grab, and put the toy in a plastic bag to be washed at home. I wish I was joking about this. Any suggestions about how to review the basic kindergarten lesson of "keep your hands to yourself" with these ladies are greatly appreciated.
5. How much you appreciate dinner with Loving Husband sans baby. When she decides nap time is when we want to eat dinner, I do a little dance of joy. That means Loving Husband and I can actually eat dinner together (like, at the same time), and speak to each other, without interruptions like picking up the toys thrown on the floor....over, and over, and over...
2. How insanely efficient you become during said 6 month old's naps. Eating, cleaning, laundry, phone calls, bill paying, and catching up on Project Runway are now crammed into 30-60 minute power sessions. Oh, and blogging.
3. How much of an idiot you become. I'm not talking about actual loss of intelligence (although, some days I do think there is a loss there as well), I'm talking about making a total fool of yourself. Since The Child can't talk back to me in the form of anything other than screams and shrieks, I pretty much talk to myself all day. My internal monologue is no longer internal, and I channel Julie Andrews in Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, and The Sound of Music on a regular basis. And not just in the privacy of my home or car. People have actually turned around in the store and asked me to clarify what i just said, because they thought I was addressing them. Nope, don't mind me...I'm just babbling to myself, all for the supposed verbal/intellectual benefit of The Child.
4. How many people (total strangers) feel compelled to touch The Child, and start up a conversation with you. Especially old ladies with visibly dirty hands and fingernails. I mean, I know The Child is the most adorable child to ever grace their presence (hee hee), but is there really a need to touch? And they simply MUST touch her hands, face, toys and feet, which are now also her toys. Of course, The Child loves this attention, and smiles at them, which only further encourages them to contaminate her. Yes, I said contaminate. I haven't yet figured out a way to tell them to keep their hands to themselves, so I just Purell the goodness out of whatever appendage they grab, and put the toy in a plastic bag to be washed at home. I wish I was joking about this. Any suggestions about how to review the basic kindergarten lesson of "keep your hands to yourself" with these ladies are greatly appreciated.
5. How much you appreciate dinner with Loving Husband sans baby. When she decides nap time is when we want to eat dinner, I do a little dance of joy. That means Loving Husband and I can actually eat dinner together (like, at the same time), and speak to each other, without interruptions like picking up the toys thrown on the floor....over, and over, and over...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Awkward First Post
First post ever
Greetings cyber-space cadets. And welcome to my blog. Not really sure what else to say. I guess lets start by saying I'm a new mom. Duh. The Child is 6 months old, and has pretty much turned my world upside down. Usually in a good way, but sometimes in a "Holy Hell, what was I thinking" way. But usually in a good way. I decided to blog because 1: all the cool people are doing it and 2: I wanted to journal about being a new mom, but never actually started one and am too tired when I go to bed to stay up for another half hour thinking deep thoughts and putting them on paper. I actually started a pregnancy journal in my first trimester, but it turned into ranting about work, and just ended up making me more upset about work. So that didn't last.
But the "work anger" is all taken care of, mostly because I no longer work there. I stay at home with The Child. Notice I didn't say "I don't work anymore." Because as any mom will tell you, staying at home is most definitely work. Completely different work than your typical 9-5 (or in my case the 7pm-7am shift), but still, undeniably difficult work. However, for me, it is much more rewarding and fulfilling. And that's enough of the mushy/touchy-feely "I love being a Mommy" fest for now.
So welcome to my blog. ta da. See Loving Husband, I'm not as technologically impaired as you (and I) thought!
Greetings cyber-space cadets. And welcome to my blog. Not really sure what else to say. I guess lets start by saying I'm a new mom. Duh. The Child is 6 months old, and has pretty much turned my world upside down. Usually in a good way, but sometimes in a "Holy Hell, what was I thinking" way. But usually in a good way. I decided to blog because 1: all the cool people are doing it and 2: I wanted to journal about being a new mom, but never actually started one and am too tired when I go to bed to stay up for another half hour thinking deep thoughts and putting them on paper. I actually started a pregnancy journal in my first trimester, but it turned into ranting about work, and just ended up making me more upset about work. So that didn't last.
But the "work anger" is all taken care of, mostly because I no longer work there. I stay at home with The Child. Notice I didn't say "I don't work anymore." Because as any mom will tell you, staying at home is most definitely work. Completely different work than your typical 9-5 (or in my case the 7pm-7am shift), but still, undeniably difficult work. However, for me, it is much more rewarding and fulfilling. And that's enough of the mushy/touchy-feely "I love being a Mommy" fest for now.
So welcome to my blog. ta da. See Loving Husband, I'm not as technologically impaired as you (and I) thought!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)