I was so busy bitching about missing the roller derby last night, that I didn't say a word about our play date, the first we've ever hosted. Now you may be wondering what the heck a baby can do at a play date, and if I were at all smart about these mommy things I would have wondered as well. As it turns out, not much. At this age, it's basically an excuse for moms to get together and pump each other for gossip or information, whatever they need most, I suppose. Our young guest Maya is a year and a half old and seemed to have had a grand old time playing on Clementine's fabulous swing, chasing Kitty and rolling around in the dust balls and tufts of cat and human hair that I swear we cleaned up last week. How do those things multiply and who was more horrified: Lisa, watching her darling daughter ingest her weight in hair and dust or me, knowing Lisa must have had to bathe her daughter the instant they got home? At one point Maya even seemed to be taunting me for not cleaning enough by licking--literally licking--my stairs. I was happy to report that she was not in danger of ingesting any harmful cleaning products by doing so.
Hanging with Maya gave me a glimpse of things to come: the nightmare that will be darling C.'s mobility. Only if I had a floor made of knife points, bowls of poison in every room and an ignition button inside the walk-in fireplace would our house be less baby friendly than it is now. Sharp corners, multitudes of choking hazards and breakable everything abound in chez Clementine--we'll have to see if she's tough enough to survive. Or...yeah... I guess we could work on the house a little.
C. was in a terrific mood today, and we had a lazy Sunday morning enjoying her new effforts at crawling. We took her to the grocery store where she was the belle of the ball. Nate wore her in the Snugli, and everyone thought it was the cutest thing ever. When they approached to smile at her, she squacked and smiled and laughed. We couldn't have hired a better baby for the outing. Tonight, she worked on her mobility some more and perfected her army crawl, dragging her body behind her super-strong arms. From time to time she can get up on her knees and get those working, but when she tries to work in the hand movements, she lands flat on her face. It's kind of one or the other.
Nate's ironing his clothes for his big job interview tomorrow. Karen and Dave helped him with his wardrobe, and the whole damn world wants to help him with his facial hair. Strangers, my mom and his dad have all weighed in, thinking he should shave his goatee in order to make a better impression. Nate is of the opinion that if the place doesn't like his facial hair then he doesn't really want to work there. While I get it that we sometimes have to do shitty stuff to get jobs, I like that Nate has his limits. Sure, selling out completely could help him climb the ladder, make more money, maybe even let me chill out on my work schedule to focus more on Clementine. But that doesn't mean a lot if he feels compromised or unhappy, and I like that we're of the same mind on this.
I'm off to help him get his shit together. He is getting nervous, and I need to go give him a hug.
1 comment:
I never thanked you for the info on that killer swing. I found it online after you told me the brand and you are right, waaaay out of my price range. Even though the site was in a foreign language I could still tell it was too expensive for me! But man it must be worth it b/c it's one cool looking swing.
Licking the stairs? That's too funny. If you need to feel better about the state of your house, stop by mine.
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