November 25, 2008

• It’s my fault I’m sure for calling Charlie my little sprite baby when he was just a teeny little bean bouncing around inside me, because now he’s living up to his nickname, and he looks very elfish indeed.   This is a classic Charlie look, from the wide eyes and pointy ears, all the way to the pouty lips.  He is admittedly funny looking.

  

  I tackled (and conquered) my first day and night completely on my own.  Something I’m sure mothers all around the world would chuckle and roll their eyes at, but I feel like I’ve run a marathon (except for the part where I’ve got two more days stretching out ominously in front of me).    Back when it was just Jamie,  and Jim was out of town, I’d put Jamie to bed at 8 pm, roll up my sleeves and heave ho on the house, cleaning it and getting it into ship shape every night before I’d settle down to a nice meal of soup or salad while I read a book (since that’s my idea of splurging when Jim’s gone).   Its not quite that simple anymore.   Jamie didn’t settle down till midnight last night, Charlie was up at 1 am, Jamie got up and started crying for his daddy at 3 am, Charlie ate at 4 am and they were both up and ready for the day by 6 am.  When did nights get so short?   And that’s pretty much been my entire day as well.  I had grand plans to finish sewing projects and clean the house, instead Jamie and Charlie tag teamed their naps.  Jamie is sick with a cold and Charlie is teething and the only difference between last night and tonight is that the living room is sporting an extra box of dumped lincoln logs and the kitchen has more dirty dishes in it than it did last night, because no, I have not mastered the art of washing dishes with a baby carrier.  I always bump Charlie up against the sink and spray him with greasy dishwater which makes him mad.

  I was however determined to get his four month pictures done today if it killed me.  Two blown out diapers and one feeding later, he was finally happy enough to get the above shot and then this more classic baby pose.

  

  In better news Jamie pooped in the toilet for the first time.   I had given him a bath with strict instructions that he was not allowed to poop in it (something he’s fond of doing).  He patted his bottom and told the poop to go “night night”, I did my best to stifle the sudden urge to laugh, but apparently his bowels did not indeed take a nap as they were told, because it was only a few minutes later he was asking to use the more appropriate porcelain commodity.   I was shocked and amazed.  Partly because I can’t believe human excrement deposited in a proper fashion is my idea of a wonderful gift, and partly because he’s never asked to use the restroom before.  Hallelujah, maybe the speech therapy is actually working.  (I know, I know,  I’m supposed to be patient).

  Here’s to another 1,000 nanowrimo words to crank out before I go to bed. 
  Cheers!

  • 1:58 am
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