When I win the Mother of the Year award...

...it won't be for letting darling C. roll herself halfway under the couch and get stuck while I was putting laundry in the dryer. I could hear these little frustrated grunts, then her heels slamming on the floor and then terror in her voice as she began short, staccato screams. When I poked my head around the corener and didn't see her in the center of the room where I left her, my whole body shook. And then there was her little flailing arm sticking out from under the couch. It was easy enough to get her out, but she was freaked out and a little dusty (I swear, we just mopped under there on Saturday--where the hell is all the dust coming from?). It's a good thing she doesn't have a diary in which to record these incidents.

Last night we were women alone in the world, and let me tell you I don't know how single parents do it with little babies, especially when they're cranky. Clementine did not want to be put down at all (perhaps traumatized by the couch?), so I had the joy of trying do laundry and cook with 15 pounds of love strapped to me. It's a miracle I got anything done, but she was much happier doing chores than just playing on the floor with me.

Nate got home from his interviewing adventures after Clementine's bath and bedtime (things went well, but we won't know anything for two weeks or so), and I forced him to watch Olympic ice dancing with me. I don't really care about the event one way or the other, but it's fun just to hear the way he cranks on and on about whether or not it's actually a sport. Darling C. was a sound sleeper, so Nate and I just hung out together on the couch folding laundry, laughing and watching T.V. Sounds boring and lame, and certainly a year ago we would have hit the movies or a show downtown, gone for ice cream or a beer (actually, I was pregnant, so ice cream for sure) or some other such outing instead of sitting at home, but this is our new world. I'm not complaining. In a way it kind of felt like when we were in college trying to study late at night. Instead of the task at hand, we would tease each other, make jokes and dream about the future. When I look at it that way, not much has changed.

Leaving the house this morning was an adventure as always. I have my laptop, my breast pump, the diaper bag, my purse (don't know why I still carry that!) and the baby bucket with a wiggly little C. Usually Nate helps, but from time to time I struggle out the door and to the car with all that shit on my own. The other day the diaper bag slipped down my arm and hit Clementine on the head. A crying baby only completes the experience. This morning, she topped it all off with a tremendous blowout that soaked the outfit it took Nate ten minutes to pick out and get on her. Oh the glamour that is my life.