Admit it, you wish you could still do thisI’ve been trying to write a post for three days now, and despite my desire to avoid anything that looks like work, I’ve managed to find other things to do that aren’t work OR a semi-literate, mildly interesting, mediocre, unfunny post.
Things I’ve Done This Week That Aren’t Work or Blogging
Watch my baby roll over! Yes! She's so completely, totally awesome! A full back-to-front-to-back roll over! It was totally coaxed out of her by the always-fantastic Nanny, but still. It counts. She is a rockstar. The Nanny's baby was like, 'Whatever, I could do that if I wanted to, I just don't want to'. And he's three weeks older. So she gets a baby point (whatever that is).
Things I’ve Done This Week That Aren’t Work or Blogging
Watch my baby roll over! Yes! She's so completely, totally awesome! A full back-to-front-to-back roll over! It was totally coaxed out of her by the always-fantastic Nanny, but still. It counts. She is a rockstar. The Nanny's baby was like, 'Whatever, I could do that if I wanted to, I just don't want to'. And he's three weeks older. So she gets a baby point (whatever that is).
Booked my Christmas flight to Canada. Yes, I say ‘finally’ even though it’s only October, because I’ve been agonizing about it since Baby Fathead was born. Do I go for the slightly cheaper layover that will take a minimum of 6 hours of travel time PLUS the joy of going through customs, or do I bite the bullet (and the AMEX) and just do what every other good American is doing right now and put the equivalent of what I paid for my first car on a credit card so that I can be there and done with it in 1 ½ hours? I have a four-month old. I made the smart, expensive choice. Two exciting things about booking with Air Canada – they had a link to Zerofootprint, a carbon-offsetting group, so you could donate the equivalent of the damage you were doing to the environment by flying in a big nasty airplane. One of my resolutions when I became a mother was to try to be a little more environmental, so I thought this was nice. Also, with AC, Jelly gets to check two pieces of her own luggage IN ADDITION TO MINE. For no additional cost. So sexy! This was good news, since she officially has a different holiday-themed outfit and ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ sleeper for each day that we’re at my parents. Plus hats.
Barfed over car seats. Booking my trip meant I started worrying again about Chunks’ next seat. The internets and every single parent on the planet implied that I would be a child abuser if I did not buy a $300+ Britax for Little Precious. She needs to recline, have a cup holder, and be able to launch missiles. I guess I should be grateful I got her travel system for such a steal, because it looks like I’m going to hit the streets and start turning tricks for her next child restraint device. What was it they used in the old-timey days? Oh, right, nothing.
Put away more of Jellybean’s 3-6 mo and summer clothes. It just made me mad this time that there were so many freakishly adorable outfits that she didn’t get to wear either because of weather or freakishly fat upper thighs. I set aside a few ‘keepers’ and was distraught to realize if I do this every time she outgrows stuff I will have to convert my guest room into a closet. But seriously, how cute were those polka-dot jammies? KEEP ‘EM-CUTE, that’s what.
Synced my cell with Outlook and uploaded Jenny’s lullabies to my phone. Because, well, you never know when you’ll just HAVE to have a copy of ‘Baby Beluga’ on stand-by. I needed it last night at Ta’s when she was Super Incredible Fussing Baby – that one little song could’ve made things so much easier, although it would have been hard to hear over Tata and her visiting parents bickering. Ah, mothers and daughters, such an emotionally fraught, nerve-wracking thing. I also backed up several laptop folders to an external hard drive, which is ALMOST like work, but since I was mostly backing up the seven trazillion pics of Jelly it doesn’t count.
Go to the dentist. My trying-to-get-pregnant hygienist still hasn’t had any luck AND the new girl cleaned my teeth with horrid cinnamon polish, so it was an all-around bad visit.
Barfed over car seats. Booking my trip meant I started worrying again about Chunks’ next seat. The internets and every single parent on the planet implied that I would be a child abuser if I did not buy a $300+ Britax for Little Precious. She needs to recline, have a cup holder, and be able to launch missiles. I guess I should be grateful I got her travel system for such a steal, because it looks like I’m going to hit the streets and start turning tricks for her next child restraint device. What was it they used in the old-timey days? Oh, right, nothing.
Put away more of Jellybean’s 3-6 mo and summer clothes. It just made me mad this time that there were so many freakishly adorable outfits that she didn’t get to wear either because of weather or freakishly fat upper thighs. I set aside a few ‘keepers’ and was distraught to realize if I do this every time she outgrows stuff I will have to convert my guest room into a closet. But seriously, how cute were those polka-dot jammies? KEEP ‘EM-CUTE, that’s what.
Synced my cell with Outlook and uploaded Jenny’s lullabies to my phone. Because, well, you never know when you’ll just HAVE to have a copy of ‘Baby Beluga’ on stand-by. I needed it last night at Ta’s when she was Super Incredible Fussing Baby – that one little song could’ve made things so much easier, although it would have been hard to hear over Tata and her visiting parents bickering. Ah, mothers and daughters, such an emotionally fraught, nerve-wracking thing. I also backed up several laptop folders to an external hard drive, which is ALMOST like work, but since I was mostly backing up the seven trazillion pics of Jelly it doesn’t count.
Go to the dentist. My trying-to-get-pregnant hygienist still hasn’t had any luck AND the new girl cleaned my teeth with horrid cinnamon polish, so it was an all-around bad visit.
It's almost Friday, so have a nice weekend and remember - be careful out there.
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, crazy Canuck-style.
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