Circus Clown in Training

Every day is a new creative venture of trying to find techniques that deter crying fits. Each method expires quickly and seems to lose its effect within a day or two, so the need for new anti-cry defenses is a constant void needing to be filled. At each successful attempt, I give myself Supermom Points, highly cherished and full of kudos. Oh, and each Supermom Point also comes with a handful of candy out of the M&M's jar.

Don't get me wrong, she's a very good child in general, and doesn't really cry that often. She spends most of her day sleeping, eating or pushing out farts that rattle the house like a nuclear explosion followed by a 3.0 earthquake. Note to self to see if our home warranty covers drywall repair due to natural disaster from baby bottom.

She is, however, getting to the stage where when awake, she wants to be entertained. But is not yet at the stage at which she can hold and investigate things, watch things further than about 18 inches away, or move by herself. She therefore gets a little frustrated during the awake times.

Enter Mommy.

Yesterday we had a rousing game of romping around the house to "Paul Has a Head Like a Ping Pong Ball." By the time we got to the first chorus of "ping-pong-ping-pong-ping-pong-ball," teary eyes had morphed into wide open eyes which stared at me with a look of "Are you completely insane?"

Success. 1 Supermom Point for me. If I keep this up, they're going to have to name a pacifier after me or something.

Twilight Zone

It's fascinating how babies can completely defy the laws of nature, day in and day out.

For instance, how is it physically possible for someone so small to produce so much laundry? Blankets, bibs, onsies, gowns, booties, sheets, cloths, towels...I have been trying for a week and a half to get some of our clothes washed, but can't seem to get it done because of the neverending pile of baby laundry that needs washing, folding and putting away. I once thought there was no possible way we could go through the 2,021 blankets and onesies we have for her, but alas...I was wrong. Our washer seems to be in constant cycle.

And have you ever noticed that the amount of waste product expelled by a baby seems largely disproportional to the amount of nutrition taken in? Where does it all come from??? I wonder the same when she spits up approximately half a gallon of white gooey stuff, when I have just witnessed the fact that she only drank 3 oz of milk. Isn't there some scientific law that says you can't produce something out of nothing? Obviously they haven't tested it on infants.

And how is it that even though she sleeps 16 hours a day, I still can't find the time to get things done? Where does the time go?

What is this 6th sense that KNOWS, no matter how deeply asleep she appears, the exact moment when I have stopped rocking her and placed her in the crib...and then insists that she WAKE UP? And that she be DECIDEDLY UNHAPPY ABOUT IT. WHY??? WHY???

And why does she have to be SO DARN CUTE that half the time after I've spent an hour trying to get her to go to sleep so I can get things done, once she drifts off I find myself unable to put her down and sit staring at her little nose and chin for unreasonable periods of time.

Sometime today I will find time to brush my teeth, and take this ridiculous bun out of my hair so I can dry it. Sometime. But in the meantime, just so you know, she's adorable when she sleeps with her mouth open.

Along came my Little Button

Once upon a time, I had this idea that Stay-At-Home-Moms had more time on their hands during the day than any person really needed.

Once upon a time, I understood that showering was the first priority upon waking in the morning.
Once upon a time, I completely underestimated the value of being able to pick up blankets, tissues and nail clippers off the floor with my toes.
Once upon a time, the idea of washing dishes and tying shoes with one arm was absurd.

Once upon a time the notion of "sleep when the baby sleeps" sounded so simple.

Once upon a time I had time to blog at least once every few days and looked with scorn upon those who let their blogs slip into dormacy for weeks at a time.

Once upon at time, I remembered what 8 hours of continuous sleep felt like.

And then one day, I became a mom. And all the rules went out the window.

And were replaced with one beautiful face and a never-ending appetite.