My baby just barfed ALL over me. Yet again. This time she got it in my hair too. I can tell you one thing for sure: I am SO SICK of getting barfed on by a baby all day long. At least I haven’t taken a shower yet today.
It’s better though, the barfing. She manages to (usually) wear one outfit for the whole day, so that’s an indication that she’s soaking herself less. Oh, I’m SO READY for her to be DONE with it. We’re closer all the time. Right? RIGHT???
It’s absolutely BEAUTIFUL here lately. This is not a “normal” March. It’ll be 75 here this afternoon. Honest to pete, if it were THIS NICE here every spring, I’d be much more mentally healthy. It was a short, mild winter and now an early, beautiful spring. Minnesota is clearly winning. And the baby? She approves of being outside.
Stroller rides, man, have you guys tried them? Totally a gas.
I’m finding it hard to get much blogging done with this baby under my care. I feel like every minute of our day is a carefully calculated dance, and her naps are the Mama-version of “shower shit and shave”, which basically consists of doing breakfast dishes, folding clothes, trying to shower, pump, or start dinner. Each minute of each nap is accounted for, and there are never enough minutes OR naps. When she’s awake I am interrupted so often by rescuing her from herself (she rolled under a chair! now she tipped over from sitting and is mad! who left that lego so near her reach! oops, she’s tipped again AND rolled up against the table and can’t figure out how to roll back the other way!) that I can’t seem to form a regular thought, neither in writing nor in person. I’m constantly lost for words, or unable to get out what I’m trying to say, etc.
Also? My MEMORY. Man. I don’t even KNOW. I forgot the girls’ piano lessons… um… MORE THAN ONCE. Since February. Meaning, I simply did not take them because when the time rolled around I… FORGOT. Only to remember hours or days later. That’s been my most glaring memory lapse, but there are so many others.
Oh, and my poor kitchen floor. It is disgusting! Olive is firmly of the belief that she needs FOOD, as I’ve said before. We’re doing the whole “baby-led weaning” thing, which basically means we give her real food instead of purees. So, I’ll give her a slice of apple, a carrot stick, a cucumber slice, toast, noodles, and she’ll suck merrily on it anywhere from .02 seconds to 10 minutes, at which point she tosses it to the floor (bonus lesson about gravity!). Since I’ll be only about 1/3 of the way through making dinner/washing dishes/whatever, I’ll either retrieve it or find her something else, and the whole process starts again. The only thing she hasn’t tossed to the floor was the piece of bacon we gave her on Sunday, but she was so greasy after that I had to give her a bath, so it’s “success” is a wash (ah, ha, ha!).
(Plotting what she will fling to the floor next.)
The floor in my kitchen is so gross, but you know what? I’ve started a system of having the girls take turns sweeping it. Yep, I’m delegating that shiznit BECAUSE I CAN. Being the one in charge around here DOES have its perks, at times. Minions, man. Worth every penny. May I suggest getting yourself a couple? (Which reminds of Michelle Duggar, when speaking about having a big family, said something like “well, the first six are the hardest.” Ah, ha, ha! Funny thing is, I’m beginning to see exactly what she means.) (We’re not having six kids to test the theory.)
I’m thirsty. Always. Especially at night.
I addicted to kissing chubby cheeks. Like, I kinda mean it. Honestly, truly addicted. Sometimes, when she’s asleep, I even miss snuggling her and smootching on her softness.
I’m also not afraid to tell you that she’s totally in love with my thighs. Mothers are weird.