June 9, 2012

Overheard at our house

"Should I ask why you're beating eggs in the bathroom?"

June 8, 2012

But it's summer and dishes are boring

Friday's seven quick takes, hosted by Conversion Diary.

1. I finally have a name at work, which came about a few days ago when Goober started calling me Mama. Uh, no, sweetheart. Not your mama. "Christine" is mega-hard for little mouths (especially little mouths with expressive language delays) and so we've compromised on Nana. Goobrette says Nanny, but Goober has rejected that option soundly... so Nana I am.

2. I dreamed last night that tiny black-and-yellow spiders were nesting under all of my finger- and toenails. Oddly enough, in the dream I wasn't so much concerned with that fact that this is supremely disgusting, but with the mild social embarrassment whenever one of them crawled out. Apparently tiny spiders were akin to acne; everyone's been there, so it's not a big deal, but you still don't want people to notice.

3. I realised a funny thing with how I got the job working for La Saucisse's parents. I didn't hand in a resume, or references, or anything like that, and I think it was only on my first day there that her mother grabbed my cell number. But in the neighbourhood I work in, I am my own reference. Parents see me at the park every day. If they want to know if I'm good with children or if I'd be a good fit for their family, they can just watch me and decide. This is both convenient and daunting.

4. I went to a women's retreat with my church last weekend. The speaker, Jane, was probably only around the age of my parents -- older, but not yet old -- but her face was very deeply lined. I saw when I looked closely, though, that every one of her lines was a laugh line. It was amazing to see someone who had been so marked by joy. When I am wrinkled, I hope they are laugh lines.

5. At the retreat I ended up a few times telling the story of how Stan and I got together. Our first date involved a nine-hour hospital ordeal during which he stood by my side (me being the one who needed the hospital) for six hours because emerge was so crowded. That was also the day I decided that this was the man I wanted to marry (and, lest you ask, I decided that before I had the morphine). I like telling this story; I like praising my husband in public. He's the best.

6. Sometimes commercials make me cry, because I'm a huge sucker like that. To wit:



7. Things to do today: drink morning tea, paint toenails, fold laundry, try not to eat the entire pan of bread pudding for breakfast, drink more tea with a girlfriend, go to work, come home & feel guilty because I still haven't done the dishes and we're going to start running out of glasses soon.  I could do them now but I'd rather get my nails finished. Is it bad that I'm prioritizing red toes over dishes? Probably.


June 5, 2012

Better living through mild neglect

I started a second part-time job today (on top of my full-time -- is thirty hours full-time? -- job with Goober and Goobrette). On Tuesdays I will be taking care of La Saucisse, a burbling three-month-old, and occasionally of La Fille, her three-year-old sister, as well. La Saucisse's parents are diplomats, and her mother is now using her Tuesdays to learn a very difficult language in anticipation of an upcoming foreign posting.

Better her than me!

At any rate, the day was uneventful except for the fact that La Saucisse decided that she wouldn't take her bottle from me. Her mother had breastfed her before departing, and after her nap I attempted to give her a bottle of expressed milk -- only to be met with Baby Rage. You know that thing they do where their entire tiny bodies arch backwards in fury? La Saucisse did not want her bottle and was personally offended that I was trying to nourish her.

I know, I'm a huge jerk.

So I stopped trying to feed her. I sang, rocked, swaddled, etc. We all calmed down, and I offered the bottle once more. Rage! Angst! That was about when I stuck her in the bassinet and called my mom. My mother suggested trying to spoon feed her (Rage!) and then if that didn't work, to just let her cry until she was good and hungry (Angst!).

Let her cry is a route I'm familiar with, but it always seems rather sad to me and so I try to avoid it. So I sang, rocked, swaddled, etc., and was really as attachment-nanny as you'd like... until my bladder came a-calling. Some things can only be put off so long, and so down she went into the bassinet (Rage! Angst!) and off I toddled to take care of business. Much to my surprise, when I re-emerged she had fallen asleep on her own.

She slept an hour and then sucked down four ounces like a champ, the little prima donna!