I'm working in the lab today. And I get 30-60 second spans of time where I am just waiting on things. It turns out this is too short a span of time to do anything that needs to be done. If I attempt to do anything that requires real thought I end up forgetting something in the lab that really shouldn't be forgotten. So I am going to make you a list. Of... I'm not sure. Things I'm thinking.
1. Our daycare tells us how absolutely joyous MJ is. How she's never upset. I feel like I don't get to see that, and it bums me out. So it means one of two things: either I have unrealistic expectations of what a joyous child looks like, or she takes out all her frustrations on us.
2. I wonder if MJ has seasonal depression. The wind chill on my walk into school today was -25 degrees. That's Fahrenheit, for all you Canucks, and very cold. So, needless to say, MJ hasn't been outside for more than minutes at a time since we returned from Oregon, over a month ago. I would think this could give a person seasonal depression.
3. Despite the cold, I love Minnesota. As I was climbing into bed next to DH last night, I realized how the cold makes marriages stronger. We'd been fighting a bit before we went to bed. But it was really cold, even in the house with our heater set to 68 degrees. So we were forced to cuddle. And cuddling makes you happier, even if you're grumpy with someone. And when you wake up, after a night of forced cuddling, your relationship is in a better place.
After my realization (these are the things I think about when I'm trying to fall asleep) I googled divorce rates by state. There is some correlation between climate and divorce rate. Not a strong one, mind you, but
Wisconsin, Minnesota and North Dakota (three of the coldest states I know) rank 39th, 41st and 44th, respectively. It would be easy to find flaws in my logic (such as the fact that domestic abuse is higher in colder months) but I stand behind it in my own relationship.
http://pewsocialtrends.org/2009/10/15/marriages-and-divorce-a-50-state-tour/
4. We've been thinking about our domicile. Someday, maybe in the not too distant future, we'd like another kiddo (or 2 or 3). Our house is 800 square feet. If you live in NYC, you may be salivating at the thought of that much space. But for the rest of us, it is tiny. It currently works just fine, but if we add another child to the mix, I simply don't know how we'll all fit. I know families have fit in such spaces in the past, but this boggles my mind. Where do you put the children? Do they share a room? I can conceive of this from about age 2 onward, but before that it seems like the baby would just wake the toddler all-the-time. Or the baby sleeps in your room, which is fine in theory, but if baby #1 is anything like baby #2, my children are loud, rambunctious sleepers that keep me up.
So the questions have been flowing like wine: Are we suburb people? Is it time to move to a place with a bigger lot, and the possibility of deer wandering through? But that means a commute. And seeing isolation. And seeing our friends less. We actually really love where we currently live. Location, neighbors, property lot. Maybe we renovate? But that's expensive, and we have no equity in our house to pay for it. And our marriage would have to surrive a renovation. oy. So maybe we buy a new house. But where? What kind of life do we want? What would we do with our current house? Can we possibly be landlords? This is the constant dinner time conversation of late. So we continue to save our pennies for a possible downpayment or renovation, and still have no idea what we want. I take that back - what we really want is for the house we're currently living in to magically double in size. Anyone know how to make this happen?
Alright, I think that's enough rambling for now.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Square peg, round hole
MJ hasn't wrapped her head around the fact that she can't fit into the same spaces she used to be able to. Which is probably why she keeps trying to squeeze through my neighbor's cat door.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thanks for listening to me complain.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The inner workings of a toddler
I am tired today. So tired that I find it hard to concentrate on those things I should be concentrating on. On the way in this morning, my husband told me he thinks it's bogus that when I'm tired I suck at thinking critically. But that's how my head works. And so you get a blog post.
A blog post about me wondering why my child won't sleep. It's been a rough month. We travelled out west, and the time change and festivities messed with MJ's sleep schedule. So be it. Then we returned, and she started back at daycare, and did really well. Not waking up much at all, sleeping until 7 in the morning.
And then she got sick. Puking. Lots of puking. Puking in my hair. Puking in our bed. Poor thing, I felt bad for her. She still slept pretty good, considering. Then husband went away for a week. As soon as she got over the puking she picked up some sort of cough-hack-virus. Husband says to me "But she just got sick!" as though that should insulate her from getting sick again. So I said to the virus "Virus, she just got sick, give her a break." Funny how Mr. Virus didn't listen. And she coughed, and my Mama-Brain feared she would stop breathing in the night. So if she cried, I brought her into our bed.
And she barely slept.
Go to sleep late. *cough* Wake up. Move to Mama's bed. *cough* Wake Up Early. *cough* Wake Mama Up Early. *cough* Refuse to nap. *cough* She is now over the virus. And she is still up all the time. She wants to play! We get her to sleep, put her in her crib, and an hour later she is awake again. *cough* *Play!*
So I am tired. I would like to blame this on a cognitive change. The number of times I have googled "cognitive develoment of a ___ month old" is somewhat embarrassing. I fear this is the beginnings of a fussy toddler. There is much shrieking and flailing happening, day and night alike. We tried a bit of cry it out last night. But we have a very determined little child, and I don't think I have a night of screaming in me. How do you reason with a toddler?
A blog post about me wondering why my child won't sleep. It's been a rough month. We travelled out west, and the time change and festivities messed with MJ's sleep schedule. So be it. Then we returned, and she started back at daycare, and did really well. Not waking up much at all, sleeping until 7 in the morning.
And then she got sick. Puking. Lots of puking. Puking in my hair. Puking in our bed. Poor thing, I felt bad for her. She still slept pretty good, considering. Then husband went away for a week. As soon as she got over the puking she picked up some sort of cough-hack-virus. Husband says to me "But she just got sick!" as though that should insulate her from getting sick again. So I said to the virus "Virus, she just got sick, give her a break." Funny how Mr. Virus didn't listen. And she coughed, and my Mama-Brain feared she would stop breathing in the night. So if she cried, I brought her into our bed.
And she barely slept.
Go to sleep late. *cough* Wake up. Move to Mama's bed. *cough* Wake Up Early. *cough* Wake Mama Up Early. *cough* Refuse to nap. *cough* She is now over the virus. And she is still up all the time. She wants to play! We get her to sleep, put her in her crib, and an hour later she is awake again. *cough* *Play!*
So I am tired. I would like to blame this on a cognitive change. The number of times I have googled "cognitive develoment of a ___ month old" is somewhat embarrassing. I fear this is the beginnings of a fussy toddler. There is much shrieking and flailing happening, day and night alike. We tried a bit of cry it out last night. But we have a very determined little child, and I don't think I have a night of screaming in me. How do you reason with a toddler?
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Still thinking about cave women...
I had a lovely visit to my homeland over Christmas. I went home for nearly 2 weeks. Home has no snow, is tropical by comparison to Minnesota, and has terrain. And there were 2 grandmothers to help wrangle MJ.
I also had an interesting conversation with my brother one evening. In the course of the conversation I came to realize how often I ponder "what would cave women do?" It turns out I think about this a lot. It also became clear that my brother fantasizes about aliens landing on earth, and that he's convinced (only half-jokingly) that this is the year it will happen. But I digress.
And then I read this article in the NYTimes about the Opt Out Revolution. The article's from 2003, but it rings very true for me. I know there's been a lot of discussion about it, about the accuracy, etc. But as an educated woman who can afford the choice of whether or not to work, I frequently ponder how much I am no longer lured by the business world. Or whatever world this is.
I know there's a lot of discussion about nature vs. nuruture in the parenting world. And I'm not talking about the children. Is it because women truly, deep-down want to stay home with the children? Or is it caused by external factors? The reality is that there are ALWAYS external factors, so how important are they?
I find it fascinating (and frustrating) that the men I encounter don't seem to have as much interest in their children as the women do. They enjoy them, don't get me wrong, but they don't seem to feel as drawn to them as their wives do. I'm guessing the men I know will object to this statement, which is a testament to the fact that they truly are great fathers.
But when I'm away from MJ for too long, my heart just aches. My husband? Misses her. But it's not the same. And it doesn't seem to be as intense. I blame this on biology. And here's where I think about cave women, again. Babies used to NEED their mothers for survival. That's how humans evolved. So doesn't it work out great if the mother's also WANTED to be with their children? Doesn't that seem evolutionarily advantageous? If a mother didn't want to be with her child, her child's survival was undoubtedly less likely. I realize this is crack science. But it just makes so much sense. And it gives me a handy explanation for why I spend so much time thinking about my baby when I should really be working.
I also had an interesting conversation with my brother one evening. In the course of the conversation I came to realize how often I ponder "what would cave women do?" It turns out I think about this a lot. It also became clear that my brother fantasizes about aliens landing on earth, and that he's convinced (only half-jokingly) that this is the year it will happen. But I digress.
And then I read this article in the NYTimes about the Opt Out Revolution. The article's from 2003, but it rings very true for me. I know there's been a lot of discussion about it, about the accuracy, etc. But as an educated woman who can afford the choice of whether or not to work, I frequently ponder how much I am no longer lured by the business world. Or whatever world this is.
I know there's a lot of discussion about nature vs. nuruture in the parenting world. And I'm not talking about the children. Is it because women truly, deep-down want to stay home with the children? Or is it caused by external factors? The reality is that there are ALWAYS external factors, so how important are they?
I find it fascinating (and frustrating) that the men I encounter don't seem to have as much interest in their children as the women do. They enjoy them, don't get me wrong, but they don't seem to feel as drawn to them as their wives do. I'm guessing the men I know will object to this statement, which is a testament to the fact that they truly are great fathers.
But when I'm away from MJ for too long, my heart just aches. My husband? Misses her. But it's not the same. And it doesn't seem to be as intense. I blame this on biology. And here's where I think about cave women, again. Babies used to NEED their mothers for survival. That's how humans evolved. So doesn't it work out great if the mother's also WANTED to be with their children? Doesn't that seem evolutionarily advantageous? If a mother didn't want to be with her child, her child's survival was undoubtedly less likely. I realize this is crack science. But it just makes so much sense. And it gives me a handy explanation for why I spend so much time thinking about my baby when I should really be working.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Where'd all the snow go?
Merry Christmas all! Like our Christmas card, this greeting is a little late.
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Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
You: 15 months
(a little overdue)
All your growing up seems to be slowing down. You have now checked off all the major milestones - rolling over, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking. All the changes you go through now seem much more gradual. But then I stop and think about it, and realize you haven't slowed down at all.
At 15 months you are 20.5 lbs, 29" tall. Still a peanut, but a perfectly height-weight proportionate peanut. And who doesn't love a well-proportioned peanut? Your head circumference is still 80+%, while your height and weight are still ~15%. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that when we play and you throw your head back in laughter it gives me a bloody nose.
That bloody nose makes me feel a little less guilty about all the bruises on your forehead. Those bruises are hard earned. You love to climb on chairs, dressers, boxes, step stools, bath tub ledges, dogs, other babies, and Mom, just to name a few. It is hard to keep tabs on you.
Your vocabulary is pretty typical, I think. "Mama", all the time, for everything. And you manage to say it in a very demanding, Italian accent. You know "Dada" but use it less, though the other morning when you called for "Dada" instead of "Mama" I earned myself an extra hour of sleep. You're working on "nose", though every time you say "No" you jab your little finger up my nose. And "eye" earns a similar gesture. Your favorite food, bananas, causes a constant request for "Nana". A recent, random addition, is "Bubble", which you can actually say correctly. Other words.... ball, night-night, hi, bye-bye. You say "moo" and "baa" for cows and sheep, though I don't think you really grasp the meaning; but it's a fun party trick. And, of course, "NO". Also said in an Italian accent. Always said to mock us when we are trying to get you to stop doing something. We are guilty of frequently laughing in response, definitely teaching you bad habits.
Up until, oh, about 12 months of age, I felt like I was pretty free to do and say what I want. You didn't seem to be paying much attention. But now you most definitely are. If you see me putting on deodorant, you make the same motion. You find a q-tip (we're not clean people) and automatically stick it in your ear. You wander into the bathroom, find dad's shaving cream (capped, thankfully) and pretend to use it as shampoo. You blow on your food to cool it down, just because you've seen me do it. You grab my cell phone (any chance you get) and pretend to talk into it. Only, goodness, I hope I don't sound like that on my cell phone.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be a good role model. I used to avoid doing "bad" things around you, like watching TV, playing on my laptop, or fiddling with my cell phone. I made a point not to always "entertain" you, and you're great at entertaining yourself, but I wanted to model good behaviour. That was easier, though, because you weren't paying attention or were asleep for most of your first year. I now find my efforts to model good behaviour exhausting. I'm a techno geek. I have a blog, after all. And my efforts to shield you from technology are hard when I, myself, am so wired. My efforts to only feed you nutritious food are difficult when I, myself, love me some junk food.
Ultimately, I know I'll have to strike a balance. I think often about what I want for you. My greatest concern, I think, other than the standard I-want-you-to-be-happy-healthy-and-kind, is that you don't end with a feeling of entitlement. As someone who teaches college students, the issue of the increased sense of entitlement in today's students is a frequent topic of conversation among my friends and I. Is it the technology? I wonder. Not a lot else has changed, I don't think. I worry a lot about this. I worry that arguments between DH and I will damage you, somehow, though I like to think that the frequent hugging you see between us will trump the arguing. It seems to, because you get giddy every time you see us show affection towards each other. It makes me think we're doing something right. You know what else makes me think we're doing something right? You. You're precocious, curious, independent, smart, happy, funny, and everything I wanted my daughter to be. Turns out it's difficult to parent such a precocious child, but I think it's worth it. I love you, munchkin, and you're better than anything I could have hoped for.
All your growing up seems to be slowing down. You have now checked off all the major milestones - rolling over, sitting up, crawling, walking, talking. All the changes you go through now seem much more gradual. But then I stop and think about it, and realize you haven't slowed down at all.
At 15 months you are 20.5 lbs, 29" tall. Still a peanut, but a perfectly height-weight proportionate peanut. And who doesn't love a well-proportioned peanut? Your head circumference is still 80+%, while your height and weight are still ~15%. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that when we play and you throw your head back in laughter it gives me a bloody nose.
That bloody nose makes me feel a little less guilty about all the bruises on your forehead. Those bruises are hard earned. You love to climb on chairs, dressers, boxes, step stools, bath tub ledges, dogs, other babies, and Mom, just to name a few. It is hard to keep tabs on you.
Your vocabulary is pretty typical, I think. "Mama", all the time, for everything. And you manage to say it in a very demanding, Italian accent. You know "Dada" but use it less, though the other morning when you called for "Dada" instead of "Mama" I earned myself an extra hour of sleep. You're working on "nose", though every time you say "No" you jab your little finger up my nose. And "eye" earns a similar gesture. Your favorite food, bananas, causes a constant request for "Nana". A recent, random addition, is "Bubble", which you can actually say correctly. Other words.... ball, night-night, hi, bye-bye. You say "moo" and "baa" for cows and sheep, though I don't think you really grasp the meaning; but it's a fun party trick. And, of course, "NO". Also said in an Italian accent. Always said to mock us when we are trying to get you to stop doing something. We are guilty of frequently laughing in response, definitely teaching you bad habits.
Up until, oh, about 12 months of age, I felt like I was pretty free to do and say what I want. You didn't seem to be paying much attention. But now you most definitely are. If you see me putting on deodorant, you make the same motion. You find a q-tip (we're not clean people) and automatically stick it in your ear. You wander into the bathroom, find dad's shaving cream (capped, thankfully) and pretend to use it as shampoo. You blow on your food to cool it down, just because you've seen me do it. You grab my cell phone (any chance you get) and pretend to talk into it. Only, goodness, I hope I don't sound like that on my cell phone.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be a good role model. I used to avoid doing "bad" things around you, like watching TV, playing on my laptop, or fiddling with my cell phone. I made a point not to always "entertain" you, and you're great at entertaining yourself, but I wanted to model good behaviour. That was easier, though, because you weren't paying attention or were asleep for most of your first year. I now find my efforts to model good behaviour exhausting. I'm a techno geek. I have a blog, after all. And my efforts to shield you from technology are hard when I, myself, am so wired. My efforts to only feed you nutritious food are difficult when I, myself, love me some junk food.
Ultimately, I know I'll have to strike a balance. I think often about what I want for you. My greatest concern, I think, other than the standard I-want-you-to-be-happy-healthy-and-kind, is that you don't end with a feeling of entitlement. As someone who teaches college students, the issue of the increased sense of entitlement in today's students is a frequent topic of conversation among my friends and I. Is it the technology? I wonder. Not a lot else has changed, I don't think. I worry a lot about this. I worry that arguments between DH and I will damage you, somehow, though I like to think that the frequent hugging you see between us will trump the arguing. It seems to, because you get giddy every time you see us show affection towards each other. It makes me think we're doing something right. You know what else makes me think we're doing something right? You. You're precocious, curious, independent, smart, happy, funny, and everything I wanted my daughter to be. Turns out it's difficult to parent such a precocious child, but I think it's worth it. I love you, munchkin, and you're better than anything I could have hoped for.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Cute? Creepy? I'll let you be the judge.
Continuing in the vein of omg-it's-so-fun-to-dress-up-little-girls-in-matching-outfits. We added a holiday twist, and our neighbor donned a Santa suit. The girls were a little unnerved by this, and this is one of the few photos I snapped before MJ was over it...
ZOMG-this-toy-has-flashing-lights!!! Strange man behind me? Don't know anything about it.
Of course we tried again, but just because we tell her something's okay doesn't mean she believes it. At least she has learned the stay-away-from-weird-looking-strangers lesson early on. And now she has more pictures to add to her teenage-grudge-file.
Plotting her revenge, I suspect. That's probably what the hourly wakes up that night were all about: flashbacks to her santa trauma and her way of getting back at us.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Snow.
Same girls, same flail, but I swear they just keep getting cuter.
God, I love my neighbors. I love their babies. I love how much they have made this first year of parenthood sane (parents), fun (parents & babies) and adorable (just the babies). I think I had the best snowed in Saturday ever. There will be more pictures, don't you worry.
Friday, December 3, 2010
How can I focus on work...
When I know I have this waiting for me at home? The weekend can't come fast enough.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sometimes I just need perspective.
Tonight I found myself trying to hand MJ's sippy cup to Vito. I stared at him for a couple seconds before realizing why he wasn't taking it. Lack of opposable thumbs, mostly, because he'll happily lick milk off of MJ's face.
That has nothing to do with this post. But it is evidence of how scattered my brain is.
I just wrote a post about how stressed MJ makes me. And how I love her like flies love.... fruit. But sometimes I find it hard to focus on that love.
Then I caught up on google reader, and in so doing read about the Sartins. If it's not a blog you already follow, you might cry. Her little boy, only 12 months old, has been battling cancer. And if she can maintain her positive outlook, I certainly don't have any damn excuse. I'll probably post some version of my stressed out post when I once again lose perspective, which I'm bound to do. I'm convinced my 14.5 month old is the most rambunctious child alive, and while it may not be true, it would take a lot for you to convince me otherwise. But for the moment, I'll remember that every day she walks the earth I love her more than the day before. And every day it seems impossible that I'll love her more than I do today, and every new morning proves that's not true.
That has nothing to do with this post. But it is evidence of how scattered my brain is.
I just wrote a post about how stressed MJ makes me. And how I love her like flies love.... fruit. But sometimes I find it hard to focus on that love.
Then I caught up on google reader, and in so doing read about the Sartins. If it's not a blog you already follow, you might cry. Her little boy, only 12 months old, has been battling cancer. And if she can maintain her positive outlook, I certainly don't have any damn excuse. I'll probably post some version of my stressed out post when I once again lose perspective, which I'm bound to do. I'm convinced my 14.5 month old is the most rambunctious child alive, and while it may not be true, it would take a lot for you to convince me otherwise. But for the moment, I'll remember that every day she walks the earth I love her more than the day before. And every day it seems impossible that I'll love her more than I do today, and every new morning proves that's not true.
Tunnel vision
MJ has one of these fun Ikea play tunnels, a gift from her grandmother:
God I love this child. She never ceases to make me laugh.
though by fun I mean that I enjoy it far more than she does. For example, it served as my halloween costume.
I crawled inside and waddled around while holding a mirror.
I was a? You-tube!
Haha.
But what MJ does enjoy are tunnels that remind her of the blue tube. Turns out there are these little cat tunnels strangely reminiscent of her play tunnel:
An important question arises: what came first, the kid tunnel or the cat tunnel?
MJ seems to like the cat tunnel better than the kid tunnel.
As evidenced by her Thanksgiving performance, in which she put the hole over her head and walked around with a tunnel on her head.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
In addition to giving birth to me, I have to thank my mom for taking this picture.
MJ has learned about the playground. There will be a lot less of that now, since our morning was met with boatloads of snow. But she doesn't get that yet, and when the word "park" is spoken will run to the door, banging furiously, as though she's swearing at me in baby sign language. I tell you, you haven't even heard cursing until you've seen baby sign language cursing. That sh!znat is scary.
But I digress. She loves crawling through the tunnel, but, unfortunately, some poorly paid playground architect decided to put no rails on the far side of the playground tunnel. So that poor (30-year-old) moms would have to climb through them to keep their evil knievel offspring from jumping to their death. We look happy about it, but our knees are sadly bruised. Playground architects should really be paid better.
Baby mama becomes old lady mama
30. Sounds. Old. My mom put it in perspective by pointing out that having a 30-year-old makes you feel older than being a 30-year-old. I distinctly remember when I was 8 and my drama teacher turned 30. She was traumatized, and therefore I have always thought of it as a traumatic milestone. I dreaded it. I'm kind of a birthday primadonna. I still want the whole classroom to sing me happy birthday, and it turns out no one really does that when you turn 30.
But, in spite of the fact that adults don't get as gleeful about birthdays as little kids, I still had a great 30th. I am so blessed. I frequently become fixated on unimportant crap, but when I stop to ponder it all, I remember how blessed I am. I have a beautiful daughter. A supportive husband that always makes me laugh. A job I look forward to 90% of the time. We are healthy. We can pay our bills and have enough left to not feel stressed about money. We get to travel. And buy good beer and fancy cheese. I have friends that will drop everything to come celebrate with me. Our family supports us in every way. And I get to write all of my sentences as "we" sentences. And I get to, don't have to.
I'm not sure what I thought 30 would look like, I never really got that far in my imaginings. I thought I'd be classy by now, but being as I marked the event with a pub-crawl, that is clearly not true. I hoped I'd have met my soulmate by now, and I have. I hadn't really imagined the kid part, or family part, or happy part. But I have that, too. And did I mention I get to buy fancy cheese?
But, in spite of the fact that adults don't get as gleeful about birthdays as little kids, I still had a great 30th. I am so blessed. I frequently become fixated on unimportant crap, but when I stop to ponder it all, I remember how blessed I am. I have a beautiful daughter. A supportive husband that always makes me laugh. A job I look forward to 90% of the time. We are healthy. We can pay our bills and have enough left to not feel stressed about money. We get to travel. And buy good beer and fancy cheese. I have friends that will drop everything to come celebrate with me. Our family supports us in every way. And I get to write all of my sentences as "we" sentences. And I get to, don't have to.
I'm not sure what I thought 30 would look like, I never really got that far in my imaginings. I thought I'd be classy by now, but being as I marked the event with a pub-crawl, that is clearly not true. I hoped I'd have met my soulmate by now, and I have. I hadn't really imagined the kid part, or family part, or happy part. But I have that, too. And did I mention I get to buy fancy cheese?
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Belated halloween wishes
y c
It's shocking how behind my pictures get when I misplace the camera for a few days (or weeks?) Even more shocking? It turns out there is no greater joy on earth than dressing up babies in costumes. Better, even, than dressing up dogs in costumes.
It's shocking how behind my pictures get when I misplace the camera for a few days (or weeks?) Even more shocking? It turns out there is no greater joy on earth than dressing up babies in costumes. Better, even, than dressing up dogs in costumes.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Indecision.
Clearly I don't know what I want. All week I fantasized about being a stay at home mom, sparked, in part, by a conversation with my advisor about my lack of PhD progress. This is not new, I knew this, but I like to forget it. DH called me out when he saw my internet history, in which I had googled "how do you decide to become a stay at home mom."
But then, a weekend of hubs working and solo parenting makes me long to go back to work. I love this little girl, but she is just so exhausting. Within her first hour of being awake she had:
- Torn all the clean clothes from the laundry basket and scattered them around the house.
- Dumped a jar of oats on the floor.
- Dumped a bag of dry beans on the floor.
- Had a (oh-so-heart-wrenching) temper tantrum when I insisted her oatmeal cool down before she could eat it.
- Climbed on top of the end table.
- Fallen off the couch.
This in addition to the run-of-the-mill tear-her-books-off-the-shelf, throw-half-her-food-on-the-floor and take-everything-out-of-the-cupboards daily routine.
By noon I was ready for her to go to sleep for the night.
How do stay at home mom's do it? I know they say to set one goal a day, and that's what I do. But if I don't get her out of the house we both go nuts. Though getting her out of the house is just as exhausting since she won't sit in grocery carts or high chairs. I supposed I need to become a more patient person. And stop trying to accomplish anything, because the moment I sat down and played with her my stress (mostly) went away.
But then, a weekend of hubs working and solo parenting makes me long to go back to work. I love this little girl, but she is just so exhausting. Within her first hour of being awake she had:
- Torn all the clean clothes from the laundry basket and scattered them around the house.
- Dumped a jar of oats on the floor.
- Dumped a bag of dry beans on the floor.
- Had a (oh-so-heart-wrenching) temper tantrum when I insisted her oatmeal cool down before she could eat it.
- Climbed on top of the end table.
- Fallen off the couch.
This in addition to the run-of-the-mill tear-her-books-off-the-shelf, throw-half-her-food-on-the-floor and take-everything-out-of-the-cupboards daily routine.
By noon I was ready for her to go to sleep for the night.
How do stay at home mom's do it? I know they say to set one goal a day, and that's what I do. But if I don't get her out of the house we both go nuts. Though getting her out of the house is just as exhausting since she won't sit in grocery carts or high chairs. I supposed I need to become a more patient person. And stop trying to accomplish anything, because the moment I sat down and played with her my stress (mostly) went away.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Fancy pants
It is a lamentable fact that adults wearing patterned pants almost always look foolish. There are exceptions, clearly, but it is almost certain that you don't fall into that category. However, babies wearing patterned pants is another thing entirely. We are letting MJ get her fill of fancy pants while it is still socially acceptable. Maybe this way she won't feel compelled to wear this:
Monday, October 25, 2010
Teach them young.
For those of you who aren't up on your rock identification skillz, this is pumice. MJ played with this pumice for about 30 minutes, which is longer than she played with my cell phone (a tough act to follow).
So, although her interpration of the principle of faunal succession may be a bit off, as evidenced above, her geological understanding is still deeper than many of my students.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Before the clean
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