Thursday, August 5, 2010

Is it July?!? Wait, what year is it....

I feel like the blog has been on hiatus, like a sitcom, through my first trimester. I feel kinda bad.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning out the medicine cabinet and I found a bottle of Tylenol that expired 05/10. I set it on the table and announced to the hubby and the MIL that "Hey peeps, we gotta finish this shit before it expires". Then I went upstairs to take a shower.

As I was loofah-ing, it suddenly hit me that OMFG IT'S JULY and those drugs expired TWO MONTHS AGO. Forget May; I had lost the entire month of June in a progesterone-induced haze of lethargy. Which is really sad because those were the cooler days of summer and now it's over 100 degrees every day with wilting humidity.

I have never been so tired in my whole entire life.

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So, the Gramma was here for three whole weeks and I changed FOUR diapers that whole time. And that counts the one that I started and then couldn't finish because my morning sickness was being a pussy and I had to yell for Gramma to "OMG can you finish this? Come quick."



Another good thing about her being here is that I can share the bewildering "what do you wanna do for dinner tonight" debate. With Stephen, it's always "I don't care" or "whatever you want" or something irrational like "peanut butter cups". But with the MIL, it's a complex debate with references to what we have the ingredients for and what commitment level we have that night. It's less of a chore and more of a problem-solving crisis-avoiding solution-finding mission.

(Which is house-wife-speak for "I don't give a rat's ass about how cool your job is and how you juggle military training and confidential knowledge and get to talk to other grown-ups and what-not. You see this house? I RUN THIS BITCH. Food and all.)

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Gramma also made E this little cloth egg and it's the simplest of designs but she loves it. The moment she laid eyes on it, she was hooked. She carries it around in her mouth, like a dog, while she crawls. It makes me really proud too because that little maneuver is a problem-solving masterpiece that I'm sure she learned from me (see above paragraph).



Now she carries all her belongings like that when she is on the move (even hard plastic toys and her sippy cup). She also likes to practice her doggie impersonations by face-planting on the table and lapping up her dinner. I don't know if it is easier or irresistibly novel or what, but she is obsessed with eating like that. I laugh so hard at that little Milk Monster. She is such a hoot to watch!



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Speaking of dog, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, someone teach me how to teach her to leave Chewie's toys alone. His favorite toys are now her favorite toys and I spend so much wasted time on prying his slobbery rubber toys from her death grip or yelling across the room for her to "GROSS! Get that out of your mouth!"

The hidden blessing in it all is that Chewie FINALLY has a playmate and it warms my heart to see her playing fetch or tug of war (or keep-away) with him. Sometimes, to us adults, that dog is a burden. He eats pacifiers and whines and sheds everywhere, but to her, he will be a childhood friend and playmate. A child and their dog. Forever friends and partners in crime.

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A few weeks ago, E finally clapped. It was right after the Gramma got here and I was starting to get worried because the pediatrician was asking us about clapping at the 9 month appointment and I totally freaked out when she seemed worried that the clapping skill was un-mastered. I had instant flash-forwards of remedial math and "summer learning camps" and panic set in.

All was for naught though because E just up and clapped in response to Gramma's cue and BAM, just like that, we're back on track for Harvard and a Ph.D and junk. Whew.

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Did I mention my boobs are two ginormous ache-sacks of suckage?

Oh? Well now you know.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...
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Karina said...

Ache-sacks of suckage?! Ajajaja. Now THAT made me laugh. :D Thank you for your blog!!! Its so entertaining [in a good way!] to read others experiences with their little ones.