Used to leave with just a purse, now with everything but

Hey all - I totally used to leave with just a purse on my merry way to wherever. I thought I was organized in leaving yesterday. Mike couldn't get home on time for me to go out senza baby, so I packed her and all of her 100-items-per-hour-we'll-be-out in my very cute vibe and forgot my own purse. Of course this resulted in me being late. Ahh... how your center of living changes with a sweet baby.

The Dr said she is of the age (6 months) where she understands how to be manipulative, and that's why she's not sleeping through the night. Where on earth did she learn this from? Couldn't have been the 10 min of sesame street she watches per day, or the nice walks we go on to the park, or her totally fun mom. =) Somewhere ingrained is that human nature to defy, to act like we want so we get what we want- not what we need. At 6 months old! She can't even say a word or stand on her own two feet, but now knows how to manipulate. Oma said, I just have to be the boss. Totally worked! She used to grab the spoon and feed herself, getting 5% of food in her mouth and the rest on floor, walls, ears, eyebrows, etc. It amazes me, that going against my instinct to please her constantly has gotten her to eat full meals with minimal mess, gotten me a full night sleep for 2 nights in a row which results in her learning how to put herself back to sleep (a life skill), and a better perspective of the long term joy verses short term happiness.

I guess it's worth a trip back into the house to get my forgotten purse.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Black Clouds and Pandemics

Being on-call is like a pandemic in our house.  There is a heated moment when you get to the middle or near-end of a strategy game, especially a game we have, which is actually called Pandemic.  In this game, the world is simulated as having a pandemic outbreak of a disease, and the players are the health team trying to stop the pandemic and find cures.  We don't have an outbreak of disease in our actual household, thank goodness, we have an outbreak of the beeper going off throughout the night when Mike is on-call. Call days are clearly marked on our calendar.  "CALL" is exactly what I write on the top of each day Mike is on call; I dread it, he dreads it.  But it is a day set aside, part of the gig, and patients do not wait until the glossy hours of 9-5 to get sick, so someone has to be available.  We both know this full well, but this does not go without taking a toll on the household. As a wife, it is almost impossible to relax until the call has been taken, the
Read more

Bleach

Image
I had some mysterious stains on a few bibs and dish towels. The first bib where I found these mysterious stains, I put straight bleach on, and then let it sit until I was ready to do a white load, and the bleach proceeded to eat holes in the fabric. Luckily, the lettering stayed in tact to say, "my daddy's a cardiologist." But now I feel bad every time I put the bib on David, because it has holes in it. I can't bring myself to throw it out, unless maybe I replace it one day. If we wear it out of the house now, it might as well say, "my daddy's a cardiologist and my mommy can't wash my laundry." Let's not do that again. So I tried again with some more bibs and dishtowels. I put them in a bucket of water, with some bleach added. (The stains were not that mysterious, they were moldy stains.) Grown from neglect and moisture, buried in either a bag, the bottom of the stroller, the car, or the bottom of a hamper. My first bib goes into the
Read more

Checking Pockets

While sorting through fresh pile laundry, I noticed a little midnight blue splotch here and there.  As I pull up more and more clothes to fold, there is not just a little splotch here and there, but streaks, huge splotches, whole white toddler collars turned to a tie-died blue-fest.  My C Wonder shirt that I wear weekly no longer has crisp thin navy lines over white, but blue and white meddled together as if to portray an overcast day's sky.  Now, rather than pulling for clothes to fold, I'm digging for the culprit while I intermittently spew out questions.  "Was there anything in your pocket from school this week? Did you happen to stick a crayon in your pocket?  Or one of those gel writers? Do you remember putting anything in your pocket? What could this be?"  The response is a stream of "no. no. no." Then, as if clarity hit, "Mommy, maybe a long, long time ago someone had something in their pocket and you forgot to check the pocket and then you wa
Read more