I want to share a picture of the cleanest dishes ever:
Yesterday morning I realized someone accidentally added a couple of dirty dishes to an otherwise clean bunch, so I decided to run them all through the wash a second time. The dishwasher ran its cycle and shut off, but I forgot to unload the dishes.
Later that night, I was nursing Miss P to sleep on the couch (yes, despite the advice of nearly every book, article and person, I nurse Poet to sleep every night) when I realized the dishwasher was running again. I didn’t want to disturb her by yelling upstairs to Tim, who was already in bed at this point, so I decided to try to ignore it, even though it was making me crazy knowing that these dishes where on their third whirl.
It was still bothering me about 20 minutes later, when Tim came downstairs for a drink.
“Why is the dishwasher on?” I asked.
He was still half-asleep and misunderstood me. I suppose he thought I was telling him that the dishwasher wasn’t shutting off, that it was just running and running. Thinking he was remedying the problem, he twisted the dial around to OFF before the dishes were finished.
“There, it’s fixed.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “Why would you do that?
I explained that I asked why the dishwasher was running because the dishes in it were already clean, not because it was broken and not shutting off on its own. Since the dishes had not yet finished rinsing, I asked him to turn the dial back to where it was before he’d touched it. He did, and went back to bed.
A few minutes later, I got up to put Miss P in her crib when I realized he’d, once again, started the wash cycle from the beginning, and I totally went to bed without shutting it off.
Hence the cleanest dishes ever.
We’ve been playing a new game around here, which is one of the reasons I forgot to unload the dishwasher in the first place. The game goes like this:
- Lay Poet on her back.
- Poet rolls over.
- Poet looks around at the wonderful things she couldn’t see before.
- Poet is tired of being on her belly, but doesn’t know how to roll the other way.
- Poet screams.
- Flip Poet over.
- Poet rolls over.
It goes on like this until I pick her up. Over and over and over. I’ve been trying to teach her how to roll from her belly to her back with no success. I think it’s just something she’ll learn on her own in time.
Miss P’s Grandma and Grandpa found the cutest crawl mat at the flea market, so her play area got a serious expansion this week.
I don’t know what it is about this mat, but she gets so happy every time she’s on it. She seems to get a kick out of rubbing her hands over its surface to feel the texture and scratching at it with her nails. (She also does this with the couch, blankets, her toys, basically anything she can get her hands on.)
Miss P loves to be naked, so, we’ve been giving her five minutes or so of naked play-time on her mat every night before her bath. In this time, she kicks her legs, rolls over and squeals with delight. One night, she peed.
Whew! You’d think all this excitement would wear her out, but she actually seems to be on a napping strike right now. (That’s what I get for mentioning naptime in my last post.) It’s like she’s afraid to close her eyes for fear of missing something really fantastic. I tell her she’s the most interesting thing going on in this house these days and that when she sleeps, I just sit next to her and write about all of the wonderful things she does when she’s awake, but I don’t think she believes me, because boy is she afraid to close her eyes.
Here’s my solution:
This thing has magical powers. Seriously. As soon as she starts showing sleepy cues (usually rubbing her eyes and/or yawning), into the Ergo she goes. Within minutes she’s peacefully snoozing, and my hands are free to write, clean, do laundry, unload the dishwash– wait, maybe I don’t have an excuse as to why those dishes went through the wash four times after all. Darn. Don’t tell Tim.
Lately, we’ve been on a mission to get Miss P to take a bottle. Tim used to try to give her a bottle every night after her bath as part of her bedtime routine, but she’s never consistently taken it. We’ve tried several different types of bottles and various feeding positions with little success. Since these attempts often ended with Miss P crying and Tim frazzled, we eventually gave up. I guess it just seemed like more trouble than it was worth.
Now she refuses the bottle altogether.
I keep telling myself it’s not that big of a deal that she won’t drink from a bottle, and it hasn’t been yet, but there’s a peace of mind in knowing that if, for some reason, we were separated, she’d be able to eat. It would also be nice to get to use the 45984 bags of pumped milk that are crowding our freezer.
While scouring the Internet for suggestions on how we might get Poet to take a bottle, I stumbled across what I thought was a fun idea: Momsicles! Momiscles are “popsicles” made from breastmilk. Who comes up with this stuff? I liked the idea of freezing breastmilk and offering it as a treat so much that I had to try it. (Hello logical and enjoyable precursor for solid foods!) It also seems like a great natural alternative to using ointments and such to alleviate teething discomfort.
I pumped while Miss P was napping, poured the milk into a popsicle mold, popped it into the freezer, and Viola! Momsicle in the making! I couldn’t wait for Tim to get home from work so we could try it.
She, obviously, didn’t chomp the whole thing down, but she was definitely interested. It was a bit messy, and it would probably take her two weeks to eat the whole thing, but it was fun. I will definitely be keeping these on hand when teething is in full-effect. Hopefully by then, she will be able to hold them by herself.
We still haven’t come up with a solution for the bottle. I don’t think we’re going to.
What’s Miss P’s opinion on this whole ordeal?