Katrina has been grouchy and not sleeping well these past few days. And, she has a red-dot rash all over her torso, front and back. It's not bumpy, and it comes and goes, but now it's been here for over 48 hours. It so happens that she has a weight check pediatrician appointment tomorrow, so I can ask about it then.
Today in swim class, Katrina went under the water and came back up without a peep! Indeed, she was making goofy happy faces. I let her stay under a little longer this time, and again, no problem. I have to remember that she's older than when her brothers started; this was old hat to them by this age.
She cried when the teacher came over though, showing all signs of separation anxiety. This ultra-un-cuddly baby almost wraps her arms around my neck then! I guess I can thank him for that! But she calms down quickly enough, especially if there is a little boy around to see. It could be my imagination, but it almost seems as though she is calmed by seeing the activity and mayhem of little boys, a very familiar thing to her.
Once again this afternoon, I didn't want to spend a single baby-nap minute getting Julian down for a nap. As it turned out, I had a lot of baby-free nap minutes: 2-1/2 hours' worth, in fact. Boy, was she tired. I love swim class days!
But, even better, after playing fairly well together in the backyard all afternoon, the boys came inside and then sat quietly in the living room, watching me dance and attempt to re-create "Hip Hop Abs." to disco. Turns out, I have no hidden skills as a video instructor. But, loud music, flailing limbs and crusty dance maneuvers were enough to put both boys to sleep, voluntarily and simultaneously. They each crawled sleepily onto a couch, pulled a blanket over themselves, and faded away.
So I quickly snuck into the office to get in some scrapbooking. Heeheeheee. My guilty pleasure. Like hiding in a closet for a quick swig of cooking brandy. But my substance of choice is Hermafix.
This is what happens when at 6:30am, you groggily beg a man to grab the long-sleeved flowered onesie sitting on the dresser and then pick any pants out of baby's drawer. Just dress the little critter so I can snooze a few precious more minutes, thank you sooo muccchhhhh...zzzzzz.... What are the odds he'll pick the one striped pair of pants out of at least 6 or 7 solid-color ones?
The result is this fashion faux pas.
Vintage-toned floral with bright-pastel stripes! Oh, the indignity! To make matters worse, Mom didn't bother changing me!
Dinner was prepared tonight for the first time with Katrina sitting up in the family room! Still, she needs a Boppy backup to prevent...well, a head Bop, in the less-and-less likely event of a tumble.
Of course, the fallacy in thinking I could chop vegetables in peace while she happily munches on toys was quickly revealed. Oh, but for those pesky brothers!
Every few seconds, I had to crane my head around the corner to bark yet another contrary order: "stop that!" "not allowed!" "one more time and....". I can't wait to attend a "positive discipline" talk in a few weeks. Just how are you supposed to be positive when your baby is in constant peril from zealous love?
At least I got a few photos, and these were not staged. But it was mere minutes later that I had no choice but to carry her around again, for her protection from her brothers. And for their protection from me.
The boys begged me tonight for squash -- yes, squash. "But only the mushy kind," clarified Gabriel. Meaning, baby food. Fine, boys! They willingly polished off pureed butternut squash that I didn't feel like freezing anyway. Another good reason to make your own baby food: quantity. And getting your 3- and 5-year-old to gorge on vegetable puree like it's pudding. Suckers!
5/2/07
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