The World According to the Peevish Kitty
Jan
30
So, I have been lax in posting while on my vacay. Let me tell you a little story.
The Story of Why I Was Not Posting
by Me.
Whenever we travel to Grammy and Grandad’s house, Stinkerbelle takes some time to get acclimatized. She plays shy with everyone, but warms up soon enough. She gets familiar with the house really quickly, enough so that she likes to roam around and asks to climb the stairs and knows where the toys are in the kitchen and runs round and round the kitchen island. And she thinks Grammy and Grandad’s yard and deck are THE GREATEST PLACE IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE.
But she is not so sure about her bedroom.
The first night, after travelling all day, she takes some time to run off any excess energy and eat and then, generally, crashes. She sleeps pretty hard that first night, waking and crying occasionally, but normally it’s just a bit of fussing and she’s so tired she quickly dozes off again until morning.
The second night is when she is NOT HAPPY WITH THIS ROOM. AT ALL.
Every time we visit, the second night, when she is overtired and overstimulated and just generally wigging out, is a bad night. Sometimes it is the third night, but usually it’s the second. It happened her first Christmas, when she was up all night Christmas Eve, which was, coincidentally, the second or third night we were here. It happened when we drove down. It happened in the Summer of Cold and Discontent when we visited and spent 10 days indoors to avoid the cold and bugs.
And Thursday night? Was no exception.
That Baby crashed early, rocked by her Grammy, and that gave us a great opportunity to enjoy the last of the mild weather and go for a walk, because a storm was due to blow in overnight and into Friday morning. So we took advantage of that, and walked to get our exercise in. It was a beautiful evening, and the snow was only just starting, so we were out for quite a while. We got home and carried Stinkerbelle up to bed, and we sat up and watched a little TV, and then went to bed sometime after 11:30.
Only to have the Second Night Not Sleeping Festivities begin about 15 minutes after we got to sleep.
Stinkerbelle screamed and wailed and cried. She was scared of her new room and the new noises and the new crib. She was only content enough to sleep when she was being held. She fussed and asked for milk and tried to stay up.
She was successful. I got about an hour and a half sleep while BDH spelled me off. But then at around 4:30 her hysteria was reaching a crescendo, and BDH was tired and frazzled to the point of being really upset and so I strongarmed him off to bed. I took That Baby into her room, and calmed her down, and managed to sing her to sleep. And she had worn herself out enough that I was able to get her into her crib without waking sometime around 5:45.
I snuck back to my bedroom and got ready to crash. But then I looked outside.
There was supposed to be a storm coming in. But this was not a storm. It was beautiful.
I looked out at trees in which every branch was absolutely coated in snow. There was fluffy snow covering the ground and the property and the land beyond. It was absolutely still and quiet. It was breathtaking.
I thought for a moment about going out and trying to take some pictures. But I have never tried night-time photography before. And it was pretty chilly in just my jammies, so I would have to get dressed. And I didn’t want to wake the house by going in and out. And, oh yeah, I was not only tired from travelling, but I had been up ALMOST ALL NIGHT.
I chose to go to bed, and would take photos in the morning.
I woke at 9, and got up to get That Baby up and back on schedule. And OMGWTFSTORM!
The storm was in full-on blowy and cold mode outside. Wind whipped in sounding like a freight train. Snow was blowing everywhere. My winter wonderland was gone.
One one hand, I regretted not taking those pictures the night before, but I was glad to have gotten a couple of hours sleep.
The rest of the day, we were hunkered down staying warm and grabbing naps where we could. And then last night, we opted to go up the road and have a little Wii fun with the family. So no photos or posts got done then either.
And then we came home and went to bed and slept hard for a billion. And now it is as cold as a freezing thing that is way below zero so I am staying in where it is warm but I am rested so NOW I can post. YOU — YES YOU — are my top priority today.
Well, you, and some wine and a crackling fire and some doro wat.
Also, I have many pictures.
The End.
Jan
27
So, we’re getting ready for a little vacation this week. We are, as usual, overpacking.
BDH and I are sharing a suitcase, and that includes my CPAP. But let me tell you, That Baby’s gear? Takes up a WHOLE suitcase and then some. If it’s not a snowsuit and boots and toys and blankies and loveys and bottles taking up a billion space, then it’s the fact that kids this age can go through 2 and 3 outfits in a day, what with the peeing and the explosive pooping and the “oops-lookit-that-if-you-tip-a-bowl-of-yogurt-over-it-DOES-run-out-all-over-you”-ness. So you have to pack for that eventuality, too.
What we need is a suitcase that is a TARDIS.
Anyway. We are going to visit That Baby’s Public, Nova Scotia Division. It will be restful. Well, except for the schlepping of luggage and time spent in airports. Oooh, and entertaining a toddler in tight quarters on a hot airplane. AND the fact that BDH can NOT take a vacation without getting sick.
Kidding aside, though, I am really looking forward to being there. It will be nice to get away, and to visit with family. I plan to read, and knit, and sit by a fire. AND WATCH A GIANT TELEVISION.
But while we are in transit, photography may be hit and miss, what with the sherpa-ing of That Baby and her attendant bags through airports. So if you are looking for my 365 photos, you will just have to be happy for a couple of days with some pictures I took in preparation of our trip until we get where we are going and get my crap unpacked.
(But they are a TREAT.)
Also, you may remember, we have a server named Fred. Fred has a penchant for dying at the most inconvenient of times. So if you come here looking for me and you find yourself staring into a giant “oh holy hell you can’t connect to that website” error one day… well, that’s why. (Look, most times BDH has to McGyver this stuff back together to get it to work. Now, while our cat-slash-house sitter is a lovely fellow, we’re certainly not going to ask him to perform any miracles of computer resuscitation on old Fred. And goodness knows, he would not know what to do anyway. His expertise is more in the fields of house sitting, cat entertainment, and Duncan spoiling.)
So yeah, if you come here looking for me and I am not here… whoops! SNAFU.
But potential technological and photographical (yes, I made that word up) hiccups notwithstanding, I am pretty excited about our little getaway. It will be a lovely time for us to visit with family and unwind. And watching them fuss all over Stinkerbelle for a few days. She will be in her glory.
We’ll see you later in the week. Probably after a glass of wine. Or three.
(Note to self: No drunk posting. You remember what happened with the librarians.)
Jan
25
Stinkerbelle still mostly drinks her milk from a bottle. Do NOT say a WORD.
Weaning her from the bottle will mostly not be a problem. It’s not like she is sentimentally attached to her bottles or anything. She could care less one way or the other, really, if she drinks from a bottle, or a cup, or licks liquids off her hands or from a puddle. But for us, it is an issue because we want her to be sure that she’s taking in enough liquids, particularly in the winter when we want her and her skin to stay hydrated. And we just don’t see that happening with a cup and/or a sippy just yet.
We’d go to a sippy cup full time, but we have not, as yet, found one that works for us. And she’s still at the stage where using an actual cup is HI-LARIOUS, particularly the part where she pours her beverage down her front and then laughs because it is all chilly and tickly. Not to mention, it’s more fun to blow bubbles in the cup than actually DRINK.
Ahem. So. The bottle is just expeditious at this point.
But we still regularly offer her drinks in a sippy because… well, to be honest, because somebody’s book of baby raisin’ rules somewhere said we should and OMG THINK OF TEH BAYBEEZ AND DONT YOU KNOW YOU WILL DAMAGE HER FOR LIFE IF SHE’S STILL ON A BOTTLE AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH.
And don’t even get me started on mommy drive-bys.
So this morning, Stinkerbelle sat down in her little purple fuzzy Dora armchair like a very good girl, and very sweetly asked and signed for “milk, please”. It was not her normal time to have a drink, so she must have been thirsty. So I thought, well now, here is as good a time as any to offer her a sippy.
She sat down with her sippy and had a bit of a drink.
And I turned back to my laptop to continue my planning for our upcoming vacation.
And then, a few moments later, I looked over at That Baby, who was happily pouring her milk in drip-drip-drips from the mouth of her sippy ALL OVER THE ARM OF HER CHAIR. A big puddle of milk and purple plushy fleece.
Oh sure… the sippy is leak-proof… UNLESS YOU SQUEEZE THE FRIGGING VALVE THING AT THE TOP. Or put the cup sippy-spouty-valve part down on a hard-ish surface and PUSH.
Which any toddler with a little initiative, AND CERTAINLY MY TODDLER, could figure out in a millisecond.
Who the HELL designed these things, anyway? I hate them. With the fire of a thousand burning nuns, I hate them.
And as far as that goes, I hate sippy cups. And I hate baby books.
And right now? Not so much a fan of purple plushy fabric, either.
Jan
22
It is a known fact that, most weeks, I am not in the running for the Mommy of the Week Award.
I know, you are shocked.
So, yeah. Not winning any Perfect Parent awards anytime soon.
Jan
19
Well, That Baby had swimming class again today. And the score is:
Abby – 2
Other Kids in Swimming Class – 0
Abby bit another kid, Ben, within moments of arriving on the pool deck for today’s class. Now, there are only three kids in class, and Abby’s taken a chunk out of two of them. Next week, either she’s going to have to bite herself, or the instructor better watch out.
I’ll tell you what, though: I did not let Stinkerbelle go anywhere NEAR Abby today. If Abby was on the ground, I picked That Baby up. And I only let That Baby walk about when Abby was up in her grandmother’s arms. Stinkerbelle STILL has a bruise on her little cheek, a week later. I’m not taking any chances that Abby wants to make a matching set of bruises on her.
I’m beginning to really dislike that kid.
Jan
18
Okay. So. I made bread today. With a bread maker, so you know, it’s not exactly “making” so much as “preparing and dumping ingredients” but whatever.
And I think I have discovered the secret to making good bread. Are you ready? Okay. Here it is.
HORMONES.
When I was doing my infertility treatments, hopped up to the hilt on every baby-makin’ hormone known to man, I baked. A LOT. I made all kinds of stuff. Ask Kelly, she can tell you. She was often on the phone with me as I measured and kneaded and cut. Every day, the more hormones got coursing through my system, the more I would bake. I was up to my elbows in flour and baking up a storm.
And I made good bread. Oh yes. So much tasty delicious bread-y goodness it was not to be BELIEVED. My house smelled like… well, like a BAKERY, to be honest. And it was wonderful.
But now, I am a perimenopausal lump of infertile personhood. I am not making babies, no way no how, and no amount of science could make me. The hormones? I don’t has them.
And OHMYDOG THE BREAD DISASTER.
I am currently staring at this doughy lump. Some would call it bread. I mean, if you were starving, you would call it manna and be very grateful thankyouverymuch. But it does not look like any bread that I remember from my salad days of bread. It is a knobby, dense, baked disaster of a loaf. It is not so much a loaf as a mound or a knob or a stump of bread-like substance.
It tastes fine. But it is not what I wanted to make when I set out to make bread.
I wanted a nice smooth loaf of well-risen, well-kneaded yeasty goodness. And this? Is what I did not get.
And I have decided that it is because of the hormones. Or lack thereof.
There is a correlation, I know there must be. Because this is not the bread I remember. Could it be the yeast was dead? Maybe, but it rose some, and the yeast was good well into the summer of 2011 according to the package. So maybe some of it was dead. Was the recipe bad? Perhaps. I got it from a BHG classic cookbook, so you’d think it would be tried and tested. And I followed it closely, so you’d think it should go according to plan. Is it the breadmaker, for those of you who pooh-pooh the notion of making bread in a machine and not fully by hand? Well, the recipe was specific to a breadmaker, so I took that into account. Possibly the breadmaker needs replacing? Maybe, although at least the lump is cooked, and the timer seems to have worked, and so did the kneading bit at the bottom of the pan…
And yet…? Bread lump.
So I have to blame SOMEONE. Or in this case, someTHING.
The obvious culprit is hormones. So I am blaming them. Which works perfectly fine for me, because it gives me an excuse for being extra crabby as well.
Jan
18
We’re trying to enjoy a little quiet time here these days.
This morning, that means that I’ve got a loaf of bread preparing in the bread maker, and a cup of coffee by my side as I sit and watch That Baby, who is puttering around in front of a Wiggles video. We both are kind of enjoying the down time.
It’s been a flurry of activity these past couple of days. We had play dates and swimming and appointments and visiting to do. That Baby had lots of fun, played hard, met new people, and spent a lot of time in the car. I drove a lot and spent a lot of time out of the house, visiting friends, socializing, getting my hair done (YAY!) and having a good time.
But with all that fun comes a down side. And when you are a toddler, that down side is that your schedule gets disrupted.
That Baby is tired. She’s been up late, and waking a bit early. Her afternoon naps came as we drove around in the car. And one that WAS spent at home was not very good because of an angry molar making an appearance. And all the activity makes a person tired.
Yesterday, we took a down day. That Baby played, mostly quietly, and watched some TV, and we got her back on schedule. She slept like a log, despite the aforementioned molar disrupting her naptime, and we actually had to go wake her up this morning. BDH spent his day, despite a few hours of work yesterday morning, mostly relaxing and napping and playing WoW. And me, I did a lot of nothing, looking for recipes, cooking a bit, and futzing with the camera and some pictures, followed by parking my butt in a chair and watching Our Friends In The North last night.
We’re good with that. A person needs a little down time every now and again. As much fun and as exciting as being out and about is, I think that Stinkerbelle is happy for the break in the action, to just putter around in her own playroom for a little bit, with her own toys and her own stuff around her. And me, I am a creature of habit, so I am happy to be in my own environment as well. I might make some more bread, or throw in a few loads of laundry. Or I may grab a bit of knitting and do that while Stinkerbelle plays. It’s hard to say. But it will definitely be something around home.
It’ll be a quiet week for us, which suits us all fine. Quiet time is restful. And next week, we’re going on a little holiday, so it will be nice to rest up before we travel and head out for more fun.
Jan
13
Yesterday was swimming class with That Baby.
She loves her some swimming class, as you might recall from the backstroke incident of last week. She loves to splash, and she loves to backfloat, and she loves to toss a ball and “swim” after it, and she loves to jump in off the side of the pool.
She loves it.
And it is nice, because there are only two other kids in the class, so she gets lots of time to do the things she enjoys.
Ben and Abby are the other two kids in class. They are both a few months younger than That Baby is. But they seem to hit it off well. Ben comes with his mom or his dad, depending, and Abby comes with her grandparents, but her grandmother is usually the one who gets her dressed and ready to go.
After yesterday’s class, Abby’s grandmother and I brought the girls into the dressing room to change. It was cold, so we got the girls dressed first, and let them run and play while we dressed. And while they were playing, Abby started kissing That Baby, as 18 month olds are wont to do.
It’s so cute. But That Baby, for all her busybodiness and intrusion into other people’s conversations and shoutiness, is actually quite reserved when she is NOT the initiator. She also does not get the opportunity to play with a lot of kids, so she is still learning the whole social interaction thing. So it was funny to watch Abby get into Stinkerbelle’s personal space, and see that Stinkerbelle was not entirely sure how to respond.
Abby laid one or two kisses on That Baby. And then her grandmother walked towards her and told her it was time to go.
Just then, Stinkerbelle began to cry. Now, lately, whenever there is an interruption in That Baby’s funtime, she begins to cry. So I went to comfort her and commiserate a little with her about how sad it was for her friend to be leaving.
Only that wasn’t it at all.
As it turns out, moments before, Abby had laid a bite on That Baby’s cheek, so hard it left deep teeth marks for hours afterward. (She was bruised all day today, and even still her cheek bears red marks that show clearly the outlines of a set of toddler teeth.)
I was unsure as to what to do. I grabbed That Baby, who was sobbing her heart out, both in pain and, I think, in shock that her friend would hurt her so, and after I checked to see that her skin was not broken, I held her close.
My heart was breaking for her.
I told Abby’s grandmother that Abby had bitten Stinkerbelle. She was, rightly so, quite mortified, and gave Abby a talking to. She tried to make Abby apologize. Abby just stood and grinned.
I was feeling fairly forgiving. After all, this is what happens with toddlers, right?
And then Abby’s grandmother said something that changed the entire situation. She said to me, “I was so surprised that she was kissing That Baby. Usually, she’s a biter.”
WHAT? EXCUSE ME?
So, you’re telling me you LET your granddaughter who is prone to biting other children get all up in my kid’s face, and did nothing to A) stop any potential biting situations, or 2) warn ME that biting might happen?
I was dumbfounded.
And then it got worse.
“I guess when she was kissing That Baby and she didn’t kiss back, she bit her.”
Okay, WHAT? Now you are BLAMING THAT BABY for this?
I was stunned. I did not say anything. I just held my sobbing baby and snuggled her close and tried to kiss away her pain.
I had no idea how to respond. But my gut reaction was to say something very inappropriate, not to mention smack little Abby’s grinning blonde self.
(I did not. I only WANTED to. Note I FOUGHT THE URGE. Because I KNOW BETTER.)
Abby’s grandmother apologized several times, and on the way past as she ushered her little biting grandchild to the lobby. I just continued to cuddle That Baby, until I could get her ready to go.
I packed up my poor baby and got into the car. And I lost it. I cried. It’s the first time I have had to deal with something like this. And I just had no idea what to do.
I could not think of the marks on my poor sweet child’s face, or the pain she felt, or the sadness. It just broke my heart. I felt so sad for her. I felt sad that I could not protect her from this. And I felt sad that I could not make it all better.
I know there will be many such situations in her life, and I know that I am going to have to man up and learn how to deal. Certainly, I will have to learn how to deal better than I did yesterday.
My darling innocent baby was hurt by someone she thought of as a friend for the first time yesterday. And I was hurting for the pain she was in.
Love hurts on all kinds of levels, doesn’t it.
Jan
11
What’s a girl to do when she has to feed a family and has little money? This is the question that has plagued stay-at-home moms — not to mention working moms, single women, their male counterparts, and just about anyone else who finds the month lasts longer than their money — since time immemorial.
Of course we’re not completely broke. And doG knows, with the size of us, we won’t starve any time soon. But money is tight in these times, like it is for everyone, particularly since it’s just after Christmas. So it’s time to start looking for some budget friendly meal options.
I’ve been on a bit of a kick today, checking out sites like the Broke Ass Gourmet, Cheap Healthy Good, A Year of Slow Cooking, and of course the ever-present Epicurious, to find some options. I love recipe sites. I get all sorts of creative urges when I go through recipes.
But it’s challenging looking at them from a budget-minded bent. Old standby items, like chicken for example, are no longer as affordable as they once were. Vegetables are tough to buy fresh because they’re out of season and are also expensive. And some of the other budget standby items just don’t work for us for various reasons.
Still, it’s a fun task if you like recipes like I do. We love food, there’s no denying it, so the prospect of discovering and cooking up something new is always interesting to me.
And ohmydoG, I collect recipes like a fiend. I have an addiction. It’s not pretty. I need to get some sort of efficient way to catalogue these things. I have software, it’s just the time to go through them and enter them into the software that I lack.
But I am game to try some new things. Soups, vegetarian options, things cooked in wonton wrappers and pastry parcels — I’ll give them a go.
But you know what the biggest issue is for me? Bear in mind that I am as cheap as cheap can be. So it’s not the seeking-out of budget recipes that bothers me. Nor is it the planning menus, or the shopping for these items.
It’s the looming “OMG WHAT IF IT SUCKS OR IF BDH HATES IT AND I HAVE TO THROW IT OUT” possibility. He has no problem letting me know (nicely of course; more as a way of learning from things than anything) when something we (or I) have made is not to his taste. Which happens occasionally.
For a cheapwad like me, perish the thought of throwing out perfectly good food! So what if BDH hates it? I’ll eat it all myself!! So what if it’s inedible?? I’ll choke it down!!
Or, the worst of all: “I’LL JUST HAVE IT FOR LUNCHES, JUST LET ME PUT IT IN THE FREEZER…” Where it sits. Untouched. FOR YEARS.
Yeah. I can’t throw it out. Even if I can’t eat it.
So I really have to learn to not only choose recipes that are easy on the budget, but with little possibility of failure. Therein lies my challenge. A fun challenge, but one that’s going to take some time and energy.
At least That Baby is easy to please. When all else fails, puree some frozen veggies and follow that with some yogurt and she is as happy as Larry. But you just know, when she starts really and truly eating what we eat… the rules of the game are going to change again.
Better get those recipes organized sooner rather than later, methinks.
Jan
8
You know what I will be glad to see the end of, what I will NOT MISS when Stinkerbelle is grown, a few short-ish years from now?
No more blunt force trauma to my face.
Not a day goes by where I am not smacked in the teeth or mouth by something she’s wielding in her flailing little hands. Not a day goes by where her cement head does not impact the bones of my face in such a way as to cause pain, if I am lucky, or a fat lip or bruising or some sort if I am not.
Earlier, I went to snuggle my daughter, and my cheekbone met her skull with epic force as she writhed and squirmed and did kid-type things. Hey, at least it wasn’t my eye socket. (Oh yeah. That was yesterday.)
Gah. Is there danger pay offered with this job?
(And if one single earth-mother-happy-lovey-touchy-feely Mama comes along and gives me the “oh, in a few years all those memories will just MELT AWAY and you’ll just FORGET ALL ABOUT THEM!!” like they used to say about the adoption wait, I swear, as doG is my witness, I will show them what blunt force trauma to the face can REALLY MEAN.)
Jan
8
Okay, since Kelly asked, here is our recipe for doro wat. (Goodness knows I got this from somewhere, it’s not like I came up with it by myself — but I don’t remember where, so it will have to be uncredited.)
Doro wat is a traditional Ethiopian chicken stew that is usually served on special occasions with a sour, tangy sort of flatbread/pancake called injera. We don’t like injera much, so we serve it over rice instead. Also, we are not fans of meat with bones in this house, so our recipe is done with boneless skinless cuts of chicken, whereas it is traditionally done with bone-in chicken.
Also, it requires an Ethiopian spice mix called berbere. It’s something we had to hunt around for, living as we do in the wilds of whitebread southern Ontario, but we ended up finding it at an African restaurant in the city where BDH works. But if you live near some ethnic foodstores, you could start your quest there.
It’s very hot — as in, spicy hot. We love spicy. So if you don’t like spicy food, move along… or try experimenting by cutting back on the spices.
Doro Wat
1 lb boneless skinless chicken thighs, cut into smaller pieces
1 lb boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into smaller pieces
3-4 tbsp lemon juice (myself, I just grab a bottle of lemon juice and use a big healthy squirt or two)
2 tsp salt
1 tsp pepper
2-3 onions (If you like onions, go for more. If they make you farty — hey, it can be a problem! — maybe 2 is enough.)
3+ cloves garlic
2 tbsp fresh grated ginger
1/4 c butter
2 tbsp paprika
2 tbsp berbere powder
1 ½ tsp cayenne pepper
1/4c red wine
3/4c chicken broth
8 hardboiled peeled eggs (optional)
Sprinkle the salt and pepper on the chicken pieces. Put the chicken in a large ziplog bag with the lemon juice. Let the chicken marinate in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.
Put the onions, garlic and ginger in a food processor. Blend into a paste.
In a large pot, heat the butter over medium heat. Add the paprika and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Add the berbere powder and cayenne and cook, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. (This step can be a little smoky, so put the range fan on.)
Add the onion puree to the butter and spice mixture and cook on medium heat for 5 minutes. (This step will make your eyeballs fall out of your head from whatever it is in onions that makes your eyes water and hurt, so leave the range fan on, for the love of doG!)
Add the wine, chicken broth, and chicken. Stir everything together. Bring the mixture to boil, then cover and simmer on low heat for 1 hour. Remove the lid and simmer uncovered for 15 minutes or until thickened. (By this point, your chicken should be tender and falling apart into bits of tender chickeny goodness. Yum.)
If desired, add the hard boiled eggs to the pot 5-10 minutes before serving. (BDH’s favourite part is the eggs. It’s no secret. It’s supposed to be one per serving, but it doesn’t always work out that way…)
Serve over rice.
Enjoy!
Jan
7
Melkam Genna! Merry Ethiopian Christmas everyone!
It’s been a busy day, but a lovely day to celebrate Ethiopian Christmas. We woke to big, beautiful, fluffy snowflakes falling, making it a pretty Genna morning.
We also had a playdate today with That Baby’s buddy Austin and his mom, Stinkerbelle’s Auntie Sandy. The kids played hard, running and dancing and having a grand old time. Both were pooped right out by the time naptime came along. The adults were pooped too, mostly from chasing after busy toddlers and eating giant sammiches from Vincenzo’s.
Stinkerbelle is also learning about Emotions (Which Are Good And Healthy) today, in that every single time Auntie Sandy picked Austin up, That Baby cried, overcome with Teh Sad that somebody was taking her playmate away from her. (She also cries whenever we have to stop playing or dancing or watching her shows to go for a diaper change these days, because she never wants to break from playing. But that is OKAY, BECAUSE EMOTIONS ARE GOOD AND HEALTHY.)
*ahem*
Good times.
And right now, there’s a big batch of doro wat simmering on the stove, and a dozen eggs waiting to be peeled and added to it. My eyeballs are fit to fall right out of my head from the fumes from a few diced onions, but it will be well worth it come dinner time. All that remains to be done is to put on a big pot of rice.
When BDH gets home, we’ll settle Stinkerbelle in her highchair for dinner, and give her her present — traditionally, in Ethiopia, it’s clothing, and so we bought her some jammies. After that, we’ll tuck into our doro wat and try not to stuff ourselves as there is still exercise to be done (we’re on day 7 of our 100 Day Challenge, v. 2.0, for those of you keeping score).
I think I will crash into bed and sleep well tonight.
So Melkam Genna to one and all!
Jan
5
Somebody once told me, “People always get the kids they deserve”. What they meant was that when you have a child, your child will in all likelihood teach you the same lessons your parents learned when they parented you. If you were saucy, your child will teach you what it was like to parent you by being just as saucy. That sort of thing.
If that’s the case, then BDH and I must have been a barrel of monkeys as kids.
Stinkerbelle is hilarious.
I say that with equal parts pride and wonder. I mean, I love that she’s as funny as all get out. But sometimes her capacity for cracking up a room — or maybe just us — impresses me to no end. Like all kids, she goes for the laugh if she can get it. But she somehow seems to know how to wring the comedy out of a situation like nobody I’ve ever known.
Last night, we were all sitting around the table at dinner. That Baby had her jammies on, and she fusses with her sleeves sometimes, if they are long and I forget to roll them up. I had forgotten, and she was fussing with her sleeves.
She pulled on one sleeve with her left hand, and started pulling her right hand inside the sleeve. I said, “OH!”, and was moving to reprimand her, while at the same time, BDH asked, “Where’s your hand?”
She looked up, and said, “OH!”, waved her left hand in front of her, and then popped her right back out of her sleeve. “Ta da!”
We laughed.
She laughed.
She repeated it. Her “Oh!” became one of those magic trick calls — “Nothing in HERE!” And then a wave of her left hand and “TA DA!” Out pops her right with a flourish.
We laughed more. And that evoked a belly laugh in her that set us off.
Several repeats of her magic trick ensued, each one escalating in magical drama and hilarity until we were all sore from laughing. I had tears running down my face. BDH was almost falling on the floor laughing.
And Stinkerbelle? She was guffawing for all she was worth, and just soaking up the love of her audience.
That Baby loves her an audience.
This morning, we went back for our second term of swimming lessons. There are only 3 kids in her class, which means lots of attention, little teaching, and a whole lot of free swim time. It rocks.
After some time in the big pool, we all climbed into the nice warm teaching pool and put the kids in life jackets to let them float. Stinkerbelle was in heaven, because there’s little more she loves in swimming than doing a back float.
So she was floating along, as Zen and relaxed as could be. I let her float freely. She was blissed out.
The parents and the instructor marvelled.
And then That Baby discovered paddling.
Her little arms and hands flapped in the water. It propelled her forward. She flapped some more. It propelled her some more.
Soon, we were all backed up toward the edges of the pool, while That Baby motored along, right up the middle of the pool. She’d done almost one length of the pool before I caught up to her.
The parents were in hysterics.
She started motoring back to the other end of the pool. It was like a tiny red and brown motorboat was going by, feet and legs periodically sticking straight up out of the water like a little sail.
I just let her go. I was laughing too hard — we were ALL laughing too hard. Parents from the next class came over to see what was going on, and THEY began laughing.
And in the middle of it all was Stinkerbelle, grinning and paddling, paddling and grinning. Back and forth, back and forth. Feet held aloft, legs ramrod straight up in excitement.
I finally caught up with her and got her out of the pool to much laughter and praise from Her Public.
She was grinning from ear to ear.
She cracks us up on a regular basis. It’s wonderful. It’s one of the many reasons we count ourselves so lucky to be blessed with her.
I don’t know what I did in my youth to deserve this little firecracker, if, in fact, you get the kid you deserve. But I am sure as hell glad I did it, whatever it was.
Jan
4
I love my email spam. I really do. It offers no end of amusement to me.
Lately, my favourite thing is to watch the spam come in that offers me deals on Viagra. You know the ones — the offer you XX% off Viagra! A special offer just for you! Or whatever.
I treat it like there’s an auction going on over the course of my day.
“Rhoda Corona is offering me 72% off today! Should I buy now, or wait? Oh, decisions, decisions…”
“Oh, look, Mika Fink is offering 79% off! SEVENTY-NINE! Oooh, that’s tough to pass up…”
“76%? Come now, Rolando Abbott… really? ONLY 76% REALLY? I think you have been outbid, Rolando. Thanks for playing.”
“Hey, looking good, there, Susannah Stringer and your 80% off. Looking GOOD!”
“Woohoo! WE HAVE A WINNER! Trent Martinez is offering 87%!! SOLD, to the man in the PLAID SPORTS COAT!”
It’s true. Ask BDH. I regale him with tales of spam throughout the day.
He just shakes his head at me and says, “Why the HELL won’t you set up EMAIL FILTERS, for the love of DOG!!”
Jan
4
It’s important to know your limits.
There are times when I wonder if I have taken on too much. This year I have taken on two challenges, to post photos every day and to exercise every day for 100 days. And it was fine, when it was all new and it was a Shiny New Year and we were feeling optimistic. But today, we got up and it was MONDAY, and it was BACK TO WORK, and the holidays were over. And reality sets in.
Whoa. How do we fit everything we want to do into our schedule?
I had the luxury of having BDH home for the last 3 days — coincidentally, the only days where I have added both these new things to my routine. And it was easy, because I had him to help out. The other reason it was easy was because we SAT ON OUR ARSES FOR 3 DAYS and just vegged out. So we sort of neglected things in the everyday maintenance of the house department.
But this morning, I got up and realized — I have a lot to get done.
There is a pile of laundry that would make the Prussian Army proud. Dishes need to be done. I have to make a pot of soup. I want to clear a path through the boxes of baby clothes and folded laundry in my bedroom so I can, you know, SEE THE FLOOR. And let’s not forget, I have a blog or several that I really should update each day, or at least, as frequently as I can. And then, there are things to do during the rest of the week, like get out and get groceries, and sort through Stinkerbelle’s wardrobe and put away the stuff that is too small, and do whatever paid work comes my way, and start swimming lessons again, and have play dates. And that doesn’t even get into whatever bits of housework that crop up. On the face of it, it can be a lot.
Add to this some daily exercise and photographs, and suddenly one’s head starts to spin. I begin to wonder, “Am I over-planning my days, here?” Realistically, though, I think it’s just a matter of sitting down and re-thinking the way I do things. I have to adjust my schedule, and make sure I know my limits about what can be done in a day.
The biggest job of all, though, is chasing after That Baby, who is QUITE busy of late. There is much running and marching and dancing to be done in a day, not to mention making sure toys are strewn about every square foot of floor space as often as possible. There are dance parties to be had. There are loud, raucous games of Foyer Soccer to be played. And there is SO MUCH TO LEARN.
Stinkerbelle is also learning her limits. We are trying to teach her these limits, like not to open cupboards and drawers that she should not get into, and not to play on the stairs, and not to open and close doors willy-nilly and with great force. And teaching her these things is a full time job. For if you are not at it all the time, you turn around and she has gotten into a cupboard and dragged out a pyrex bowl and smashed it on the tile. Or she has climbed the stairs to the second floor while you are sitting at the kitchen table. Or she has hit herself in the face with a door that unexpectedly rebounded.
Something tells me that I am not the only one who still has work to do about what her limits are.
So yeah — that’s REALLY my full time job right now. And everything else I want to do is kind of fit in around it.
But we’ll get there. We just need to re-think the way we do things in the course of the day, and let things go if need be. It’s a good exercise, because the demands of this job change from moment to moment sometimes. And you can cry and moan and rush around like a chicken with its head cut off and hit yourself in the face with doors… or you can just go with the flow and try to learn some reasonable limits.
I expect rushing will still be done and faces will still meet doors from time to time. But I also have hopes that a lot of good stuff will get done too.
Jan
3
Three days into my Project 365 challenge, and I am learning already. It hasn’t been much, but I am picking up the odd thing here and there. And the camera I am using is one that BDH bought and learned to use well over a year ago, so he has been giving me tips and teaching me a few things as I go along. That’s been nice because reading the manual? Not my best thing.
(Yes, I was a writer of manuals in the past. And I complained that users never RTFM — “read the f—ing manual”. Yes, I see the irony. Shut up.)
So I have been tinkering and trying things. Some successes, and some epic fails. But it has been fun.
Here’s what I have learned so far.
It has been a good experience so far. I like taking pictures, although so far they’ve all been things in my immediate sphere of daily life. I know that one day I am going to have to branch out and try taking pictures Out There In The World.
But Out There In The World will have to wait until I am more confident. And when I don’t have Stinkerbelle on the loose. And also when it’s not so frigging cold out there.
I don’t mind staying in and taking pictures of the things around me. It’ll be a bit boring after a while, perhaps. But at least it will be warm.
And it will give me time to RTFM — read the f—ing manual.
Jan
3
(click to embiggen)
I never could resist breakfast.
Starting tomorrow, I’ll be posting all my shots and posts about them on my Project 365 page. You’ll find the link in the top menu.
Jan
2
(click to embiggen)
It was tough to choose today. I mean, it took an hour and a half to narrow it down and make a choice.
I went with colour.
Designed by Tim Sainburg from Brambling Design
