Two Hours In The Life

Another of my infamous, I mean, not-at-all-famous timelines….

1:30 pm: Finish nursing Loud Thing and attempt to put her down. In her bed.

1:32 pm: Callooh callay, O frabjous day! It works! This never happens! Dash to recliner, fire up laptop.

1:35 pm: There are ants in the dregs of my caffeinated beverage from this morning. Don’t ask how I found out. Consider ignoring ants, but then one crawls across the laptop. Cue bad joke about computer bugs.

1:43 pm: Hunt and smoosh enough ants to feel satisfied. Spray door jamb with kid/pet safe ant killer while Pink Thing watches and asks approximately 549 questions. Return to recliner.

1:46 pm: Pink Thing screaming in kitchen. Run. More ants, coming in through back door. What is this, Antville? Smoosh, kill, spray, etc.

1:52 pm: Wash hands, check on Loud Thing. Still sawing logs. Return to recliner. This time manage to open WIP (work in progress).

2:01: Pink Thing is already bored of killing ants with pudding box. And here I thought I’d taught her an endlessly fun and entertaining pastime! Advise her to play with toys in room; Mommy’s working.

2:12 pm: Forgot to close AIM. Friend pings me, excuse myself gracefully. Disconnect laptop from Internet. Good mommy, good good!

2:20 pm: Pink Thing yelling in room. Trot. It’s that damn Wayne Johnson again, harassing her Care Bears. Help find the Care Bear Wayne Johnson “trapped” in the “dungeon” under the bed.

2:31 pm: Check on Loud Thing. Still sawing logs. Good baby! Has been approximately 1 hr. since putting her down. Guestimate have 30 min to 1 hr. left. Vow not to quit writing for hell or high water until she wakes!

2:39 pm: Not hell, but Pink Thing. Does not want to play Care Bears. Or watch TV (bad Mommy, bad bad!) Suggest new educational computer game.

2:41 pm: Pink Thing cussing in room. Walk. She can’t get the computer to turn on.

2:55 pm: After much clicking and kicking, realize computer is not plugged in because the cable modem and wireless router are hogging the outlet so conveniently hidden by the desk. Router/modem normally upstairs, but DH is experimenting with network issues. Find power strip, rearrange, turn on computer, pop in new game, and….

2:56 pm: New game will not play without downloading Windows Crapdate. No time, no time! Suggest old educational computer game.

3:09 pm: Pink Thing’s disappointment with failure of new game requires an infusion of milk and two-bite brownie. Return her to old educational computer game, myself to recliner.

3:19 pm: Oh God Look At The Time! How Can It Nearly Be Over?? Quit typing. Listen carefully. Don’t hear Loud Thing. Start typing.

3:22 pm: Pink Thing wailing in room. Ignore her.

3:23 pm: Pink Thing calling for me with a desperate edge. Yell, “What?” She repeats my name. Start to put laptop down.

3:24 pm: Pink Thing comes out of room, naked and upset. “It was an accident,” she says, sniffling pitifully. “I am going to get dry clothes now and then play my game.”

3:25 pm: Pink Thing so engrossed in educational game…ok ok it was Scooby Doo…she peed in the floor beside the computer. As this is unprecedented and she’s upset, punishment shall be listening to me complain.

3:26 pm: Fetch Pet Stain Remover, old rag to clean carpet. Misestimate how very much pee there was since carpet hides the vast under-shag reservoir and accidentally splash pee on self. Pink Thing laughs, jumps on my back (am crouched), and yells, “I’m sorry, Mommy! I won’t do it again!”

3:27 pm: Weight of Pink Thing propels me forward into pee puddle. Splash wall. Pee soaks into my snazzy yoga pants.

3:29 pm: Finish mopping up pee (with yoga pants — very absorbent). Pink Thing wants to play more Scooby Doo. Say no.

3:30 pm: Pink Thing follows me into my bedroom where Loud Thing is sleeping. Pink Thing’s piercing whines must be stopped!! Baby stirs. I hustle Pink Thing out of room under threat of time out, change clothes in complete silence. Baby stops stirring.

3:35 pm: Return to recliner. Fire up laptop. Type whole sentence

3:36 pm: Baby passed the two hour mark! Turning point alert! She will sleep through the night! She will nap twice a day, in her own bed! For three hours! She will…

3:37 pm: Wake up. With a diaper full of pee.


Typing Slave

Things You Never Thought You’d Hear

Dinner was insufficient, so I gave Pink Thing a piece of cold ham left over from the other night. As Nanny Slave was changing Loud Thing’s diaper, Pink Thing decided to help. This is what I heard:

NS: Quit touching me with your ham.

PT: Why?

NS: Because I don’t want to be hammy.

PT: Why?

NS: Because… Quit touching your sister with your ham.

PT: Why?

NS: Because she doesn’t like ham. She’s not supposed to have ham.

PT: Why?

NS: I said, stop that. Quit touching me with your ham.

PT: Are you hammy?

NS: I am now. Quit touching me with your ham hand or I’ll….

PT: (does something)

NS: (grabs remainder of ham; eats it)

PT: Mommy! She ate my ham!

Me: Wash your hands before you touch anything else. They’re covered in ham.


Typing Slave

TS – Ten Things I Want To Do

Loud Thing’s other nickname is “She Who Cannot Be Put Down”. Because she’s not old enough yet to let her lay and scream, somebody has to hold her at all times, except for brief stints on the changing table. Which she screams through. However, if you’re holding her and if you nurse her on demand, she doesn’t cry or fuss much at all. Very different from Pink Thing, who had colic. Foodslave and I do not miss the 4 hour stints pacing the floor with a screeching infant.

The Top Ten Things I Want To Do But Cannot Because I’m Holding Loud Thing:

1) Go to the bathroom.

2) Cook food and eat it, not to mention feed it to the rest of the family.

3) Update Meankitty’s website (blogging I can do with one hand; photoediting, coding et al not so much).

4) Pick up all of Pink Thing’s toys, which have spread throughout the house like kudzu and function as a definite walking hazard.

5) Go grocery shopping (not quite as necessary as it used to be considering item #2).

6) Go for a brisk swim in our backyard pool to work off the pregnancy pounds (Can you guess which of these items is a TOTAL LIE?).

7) Take a shower, though Loud Thing and Pink Thing do not seem to mind the funk. Foodslave wouldn’t dare comment because then he’d have to hold Loud Thing and sleep on the couch. Come to think of it, if he got his heiney booted to the couch, he wouldn’t have to help with the baby during the wee hours, so I hope he doesn’t come up with the idea to diss me independently. Or I can think of other, more suitable punishment, like permanent catbox duty (Another big laugh! He already HAS that! Although my “I could be pregnant” excuse is at an end, because, uh, after barfing for 9 months a second go around, I got myself spayed.)

8) Go upstairs in the attic and find that damned baby mirror so I can prop it beside Loud Thing during diaper changes and maybe it will fool her into not screaming long enough to get through the process without blood trickling from my ears. I tell you, visitors, this girl is LOUD! Hence the name.

9) Finish converting the bonus room, also upstairs, into a workable office space. Everything is in 18 gallon tubs, so when we need envelopes, stamps, paper, packing tape, cute little notebooks and crayons to occupy Pink Thing for ten minutes, the hole punch (don’t ask), the computer backup cds, (really don’t ask, I might cry), my stash of Realms of Fantasy magazines to see if I have them all or if my mail is disappearing again, that damn book I was reading and didn’t finish because SOMEBODY otherwise known as Foodslave packed all my stuff up and took it upstairs, the booklight so I can use it at 3 am when Loud Thing is nursing for about 45 minutes and I want to read but don’t want to wake my dear Foodslave, snoozing happily, and last but not least Pink Thing’s baby book I never finished and now that we have #2 I feel really guilty about it, not that I’ve gotten a baby book for #2, but maybe there’s a way I can convert Pink Thing’s book into a double-decker book and put both their crap in there and be done with it, man.

10) Change into clothes that don’t have spit up on them. I guess it’s kind of a moot point, considering item #7. Let’s just hope nobody comes to visit unexpectedly, shall we? They would open the door and smell the funk and see nothing but a battered landscape of toys, spit rags, empty dvd cases, the “sick bed” from when Pink Thing had a stomach bug this week-end and slept in the living room floor where the spew would do less damage, shoes, blankets, the Elmo chair, the empty tubs the toys are supposed to be in, crumbs (happily hidden beneath all the other detritus), and half my sister’s wardrobe where she’s been trying on dresses in hopes of finding something appropriate for a June wedding–not hers, my cousin’s, and the hard part is she also has to find something for Grandma to wear, as Grandma refuses to go shopping and has been insisting she’s going to wear this black dress from the early 90’s that is more appropriate for a funeral.

So those are the ten things I’d most like to do but cannot because…got this baby.



TS — The Playdate

I’d tell you all about how Pink Thing went for a playdate next door today that came to an abrupt halt when she allegedly whacked the other girl in the head with a stool, for reasons we have been unable to determine (“She thought she was bigger than me, but I was bigger.”) However, the smaller child is in my lap, where she resides full time, and I can only type with one hand, so it would have to be a very short post.

Which it was, so I guess I told you about it. How’s this for an inaugural momservation? Maybe next time I’ll describe what it feels like to humor your infant when she wants to cluster-nurse at 3 am, and you will be highly thankful I’m typing with one hand and it’s a very short post.