Friday

Howdy there. How are you? 

So many changes with a baby are monumental, and then also kind of mundane. 

Take today. It's Friday. We're upstairs in baby Evelyn's bedroom instead of downstairs in the kitchen, trying to work on our homeschool lessons for the older girl. I decided to grab my laptop and relax up here in this different space. We have the radio tuned to NPR, like usual, and Evelyn is enjoying a blanket-covered floor with the toys that stay upstairs. The older one is cleaning her room. At least, she is supposed to be cleaning her room but it's awfully quiet in there. It sounds more like she's reading books than cleaning. It's like a whole new thing, except for girlie's book-reading, but without all the effort of actually leaving the house.

This little house. It's small, but at around 1,600 sq. ft. it's not small at all. It is cozy, our house built for elves. In 1945, post-war, people must've been shorter? I don't know, but I love the low ceilings, the built-in shelves (WE NEED MOOOORE), and the steep stairs that were made, I can only assume, for the teeny little people that used to live here. They didn't bonk their heads on the doorframe that we do when we walk down the stairs. Or bonk their heads on the sloping ceilings on the second floor. But it's a romantic kind of ceiling, so the goose-egg that it leaves on our heads is cute. One of these days, we'll probably  move. I just wish we could find a house with as much cuteness - some people call it character - as this one. But character in one built for not-elves, like us.

Evelyn is enjoying her room. She is much less screechy this morning than usual, even though her tummy has been giving her trouble. She's had several poops during the day, whereas her normal routine is to have just one... or two at the most. Aren't you glad you asked?

It's just a normal Friday. My teeth are not yet brushed. Both children are clean and dressed. We will probably go to the library, if their mom can get it together enough to clean her teeth to a socially acceptable level, that is.

It's a good day.

The World is a Magical Place

Remember the child from the box? Well, she's taking her afternoon nap. And this morning, she had a morning nap. And last night? Last night, she slept in her crib for the first time. Her father and I took turns sitting with her until she fell asleep. When she woke during the night, I was prepared to soothe her but not feed her. She mostly self-soothed before I could go in there and muck things up, except for that 2 - 3:30 am stretch where I went into her room LIKE A MORON. See: previous part about SELF-SOOTHING, dumdum.

There is a reason why sleep deprivation is a torture device, people. Think about it.

Holy sweet Baby Jesus, today is a marvelous day!!!! The world is a beautiful place!!!!!!!! 

Meanwhile, there's the other one. The older one. She is running cross-country this fall for the first time.

She's the blondie in black shoes. I screamed maniacally for her as she ran by. I think she loves that.

Kids. There's nothing like them. Sometimes you put them in boxes in a vain attempt to hang onto your mind and get through the next few minutes, and other times you shout out loud your support for all the world to hear. Much to their dismay. I'm not sure which is the truest indicator of a loving parent. 

Probably both.

The Baby at Nine Months

Yesterday, I put my kid in a box. She was screaming and unhappy everywhere else I put here, might as well go for broke. It kept her happy for a surprising amount of time. I think I washed dishes.

She still won't crawl, eat solid foods, or allow any teeth to come through her gums. I'm trying not to panic, which means NOT going to the internet and googling "eight month old doesn't crawl". Because I did that and the results range from "crawling is normal at 9 to 10 months" to "it could be the result of central nervous system damage...". Good old internet.

Today Evelyn turns nine months old. To mark the occasion, she took a nap with the cat. The cat jumped in her bed as I was feeding her in preparation for her afternoon nap, when he pointedly looked at me  before settling down as if to say, "you're stuck under the baby, so watch this."

I shook the bed and tried to get him out, but he just looked like he was enjoying his free massage. So, I put the baby in on top of/next to him. I think I made my point.

Who know what tomorrow will bring? Maybe crawling, and the minute she pulls out all the books from the bookshelf and gets into my purse to rip out all the checks, I know I will wonder why I wanted it to happen so badly in the first place. Immobility is not so bad.