It has been a long while since I posted, and it took me two weeks to jot down this little number. It has also been a long while since I slept more than 1.5 hours in a row or ate slowly enough to taste. I’m assuming that when the sleep situation improves, I will be a regular William Shakespeare.
Since last I posted, Josie has completed her seventh month of life. And boy did she live it! It began with a half birthday party, which Miss Thing spent in the back rooms of the house — away from the guests. K and I took turns trying to keep the poor overwhelmed baby from screaming while the party went on without us. We had two very successful trips to the coast. Josie seems to love the beach. The dog won best day for sure. Poor beast has taken a figurative and literal back seat to this new creature in our lives. But once we got out on the sand and took off her leash, she ran with such manic glee that it seemed, at least for that day,
that all has been forgiven. Josie has also started eating real human food (and taking real human diaper dumps!). What started in her sixth month as disinterest in avocado has transformed into a full-blown carnivore carnival. She loves meat! The redder, the better. First it was chicken liver, but now wants steak and burgers. Did I mention she wants it NOW!? That’s another new trait… the scream of impatience. After several field studies, we’ve concluded that our daughter wants what she wants (and doesn’t what she doesn’t want — namely, naps) when she wants it. There is no warning whimper. It’s all, “Hey! Is that your cup? I want your cup… gimme your cup why isn’t your cup in my mouth ahh! ahh! ahh!” It’s a lot of screaming at a very high pitch. A lovely thing Josie has begun doing is instigating a version of hide and seek that involves rolling on her side, facing away from you. You are then to ask, “Where’s Josie?” Still nothing. If you tickle her side while asking, you will see the rise of her cheekbone (impish clue #1) and eventually be rewarded with a smiling baby returning to her back. Ah, to be in love.
It’s amazing how little I knew about this world of having an infant and how quick I’ve learned. For example, I did not know that a) there is such a thing as a sleep coach and b) that there could be a real, dear-god-help-us need for such a thing. We haven’t slept for months; it’s one thing for us to be underslept, but another entirely to have a tired baby every day. We first saw how much this coaching would cost and laughed. Now, about six weeks later, we are finding a way to pay. We spoke with the coach and will officially start the training when we get back from our trip. Yes, we are traveling for the first time with our baby. I tend to be afraid of things, but this stress has been building and has taken on ulcerative proportions.
Beginning Tuesday morning, we are traveling to three Midwestern states in 12 days. Three flights, three long car trips, and three chunks of family total. The flight is scaring me the most. The diapers, the screaming, the constant off-and-on nursing, the dirty looks… And thankfully, the Xanax (for me) and liquid Benadryl (for her). Don’t judge; just wish us luck!
And, now… For your Moment of FoG (Funny or Gross):
Today was a first in poopy business. Nothing seemed amiss, at first. There was clearly the need for a diaper change. But as I walked to the diaper changing table, I noticed poop on my forearm. I called out to K for backup in a slightly panicked voice. She came to assist with what appeared to be your average huge, nasty diaper. But then, after the clean up, I went back to what I was doing, which involved carrying Josie. After I put her in her excersaucer and took a seat at the table, I looked down and saw a big streak of her poop on my skirt. I tried to rinse it out and went upstairs to change. It was while using the bathroom upstairs that I noticed the stain soaked through to my underwear. OK, no problem; I’m up here anyway, so I’ll just change those too. I went back down and continued with my day. Some time later, I was carrying Josie around upstairs and my foot slipped — like a cartoon character on a banana peel. Yes, my friends. It was poop. More poop from that same diaper, though I’m not even sure how since we changed it downstairs.
Basted 