And then one day we did stuff

I've noted a few times on this blog that I pretty much do nothing except look at, talk to, feed, and change my baby these days. I’m really not exaggerating. Baby Grady really detests sharing my attention. He is particularly irked by productivity. It's two hands on the baby at all times around here. So, I count it a good day when I accomplish one task or activity that is not nursing, diapering, baby-playing or very light housework. And I mean light! As in, carrying my used mug to the kitchen or putting a dirty burp cloth in the hamper. Maybe picking up a wad of Reese fuzz. Like, if it’s right in my path. Something so ambitious as doing a load of laundry? That would totally count as my one thing. Yeah, these are the standards I’m working by. I’ve been telling myself that the cuddling and gazing and soothing and playing (to the extent that Baby Grady can really play)... those are the things I’m getting done, even though they are not to-do list types of tasks. Thing is, I believe myself. It may be lazy, but it’s also right.

So one day earlier this week, out of the blue, without intending to or making a list or having a big build-up in my head (which is something that precedes almost all of my accomplishments, great, small, and imaginary), we accomplished so much more than just one thing. These are the things we did:

1. Loaded and ran one dishwasher.
2. Did one load of laundry (not the folding).
3. Talked to Granny J.
4. Wrote one thank-you note.
5. Got dressed! In jeans! And sneakers!
6. Applied mascara. Using the little mirror in a cloth baby book.
7. Brushed my hair, delighting Baby Grady. Having a baby really leads you to question your act. I can make faces, read stories, and tell jokes, only to be met with the blankest of baby stares. Then I brush my hair and it’s an absolute scream?
8. Emptied the diaper pail.
9. Walked across the neighborhood to mail several thank-you notes and another thing.
10. Walked to the market and purchased salad greens, corn thins, and a six-pack. By the way, I really like corn thins. They are like rice cakes, except made of corn. And also thin. They are really, really well-named.
11. Ate a salad. (I made the salad ahead of time, which was clever, because it meant that I managed to eat something that was not dry cereal, an apple, or a spoonful of peanut butter.) Go me.

Baby's wardrobe #13: Fighting Owl Edition

This onesie came from a dear lifelong friend, a reference to our school mascot -- the fighting owl. In fact, I'm pretty sure the "fighting" part was an add-on in our later school years to make us seem more competitive. Really we were just the owls... because owls are wise. (But they suck at soccer.)

With Dad #3

Of note: Baby Grady's cheeks are red, because this was before I discovered (with Granny J's help) that Grady doesn't like when I eat tomatoes. Well, it doesn't actually seem to bother him, but it does give him hives. And he's so much cuter without hives! But it turns out that, left to our own devices, we eat a fair amount of tomatoes. (Italian and Mexican cuisines dominate our quick-and/or-make-ahead repertoire.) So, any suggestions for quick and easy meals without tomatoes? Bonus points for things that can be made in quantities to provide multiple meals. Put them right down there in the comments, please!

Fanboy

So today, this happened:

Because, this:

My baby is the neatest.

My Mobyish is not as scary as I thought

There are a lot of things about babies that are scary. Even before they get here! First, there’s the possibility of miscarriage, then there’s will-they-find-something-bad-on-the-ultrasound?, and then of course labor. All genuinely scary. I also recently learned that breastfeeding is scary! Like, for a lot of people. Breastfeeding! Who knew! (I’m glad I didn’t.)

So, confession. I’ve been intimidated by my Moby wrap, which I will refer to as my Mobyish, because it is actually a knock-off, handed down from my sister-in-law, and I can never remember what she told me it is actually called. So, my Mobyish. Scary!

In case you don’t know, a Mobyish is just a long (like, REALLY long) piece of stretchy knit fabric that you wrap around yourself multiple times to create an origami baby-carrier right there on your person. The first time my sister-in-law showed me, as she was gifting me her well-adored strip of fabric, I was thinking, “That’s bananas. But thanks.”

So it sat for a bit, due to the intimidation and all. Then one day I checked out the instructions online and became a fabric origami-master right then and there. It was a lot more than I usually accomplish in a day, so I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I slid my baby into his pouch and went to make some oatmeal. Until I realized we were all wet -- all of us! Baby Grady, me, and the Mobyish. My one and only diaper leak took place approximately 12 seconds after I became baby-wearing. This led to laundry, as most things do.

Finally, yesterday, I decided to give that gigantic piece of fabric another chance. I wrapped and tied like an origami ninja and slid that baby into my pouch. He was all cozy for a minute or two until his pouch-inhabiting led to hunger, as most things do. The only reasonable choice at this point was to wrangle a boob out through all the layers and try to connect it with Baby Grady. And wouldn’t you know, it worked. And I felt so rustic and Earth-motherish. Like a skilled tribeswoman ready to pound some grain while wearing and feeding my offspring. Tomorrow I may try carrying the groceries in a basket on my head. Because apparently maybe I can.

With Dad #2

Smiling!