Okay, so I just posted a while ago about how Mary was being a model baby and playing in a well-behaved, easily-cared-for way?
Well, I got up to put a load of dishes in the dishwasher. I left the laptop open, but asleep, on the couch in the living room. Mary was in the dining room playing with her blocks.
I opened the dishwasher. This sound announces to Mary, every time, that I am–however momentarily–in the kitchen and therefore Not Watching.
She bolted for the living room. I said, “Mary–what are you doing, honey?” I put away a few cups and then followed her to the living room.
She was standing in front of the couch. The laptop was awake. Indeed, it was busy: there were three new e-mail message windows, addressed to “MS WE,” “RTS,” and “JJJJJ.” A new Yahoo window was open, and she had searched the web for “DS CW.” The Clash was singing “London Calling.” And a TextEdit window containing–to all appearances–my credit card number was open.
Clearly, she is practicing for being a teenager.
I am grading papers quietly on the couch. Mary is playing quietly on the floor, having a delightful time with her puzzle pieces, needing nothing and doing nothing bad/dangerous/expensive/messy.
Makes it sort of easy to forget the fact that this afternoon I had to perform an emergency baby-clothing-removal operation because she got an entire pear inside her diaper somehow. While wearing, mind you, a onesie.
A number of things I’ve been meaning to tell you:
a) Yes, I can tell that you’re surfing the internet on your iPhone in my class. And I can tell that you got your answer to one of my questions from Wikipedia. How, you ask? Well, normal people don’t use the expression “in a controlled scientific study” in casual discussion. And they don’t say “hegemony.” Unless they’re grad students (which, come to think of it, means that they are not normal people anyway).
b) Please eat some vegetables before you catch some sort of plague and give it to me, as students always do during midterms. Please!
c) Contrary to what you may think, physical presence in the classroom is not enough to pass the course. Not even with a C. Especially if you get drool on the desks–the staff just hates that.
d) If you e-mail me at 1:56 a.m., and I don’t respond by 6 a.m., you may safely wait to send another e-mail until, say, an hour when a reasonable person might actually be up. You know, like maybe noon. Or you might write an e-mail that actually tells me what you wanted in the first place; that would cut down on the back-and-forth.
e) I love your enthusiasm for the books we’re reading. Thanks for reminding me why these texts are exciting.
f) I think you might need a haircut.
You know what makes me feel smug? Walking past the disposable diaper section of the store and not ever buying any because Mary wears cloth diapers. That’s what. We’ve spent a grand total of maybe $300 on diapers (not counting electricity, I guess, for washing) since we switched to cloth. That’s about a third what we would have spent on disposables. Amazing.
Also (and this is probably more than you need to know, but I’m spreading the word for any of you ladies who also want to feel smug but currently lack a baby), I bought a Diva Cup and now I will never buy another feminine hygiene product. So there. It’s awesome–I feel like we’re shrinking our environmental impact all the time. And again I’m cheap and it saves me money.
Of course, I haven’t been able to give up paper towels, so I can’t feel totally superior. I cannot imagine how anyone ever raised toddlers before paper towels. I use them to clean up anything disgusting that Mary gets on the floor or her face, etc.–and that’s a lot. But I have a hard time reducing my use because, well, things are gross and who wants to deal with that again in the form of laundry? But it’s progress.
Plus, Mary’s diapers are SO much cuter than other diapers.
I leaned over to pick up something from the couch. A Cheerio fell out of my bra. Without thinking, I picked it up and ate it.
So, Mike and Sandy came to visit us for a week (see below). Here are a few photos, etc., from the rest of their trip. Mary had a lovely time being spoiled by grandparents; she received bites of unsuitable foods and napped very little (which is just how she likes it).
On Saturday we had a party so that Mike’s family could come visit them.
John came to the party and played with Mary.
Grandma came to the party and played with Mary.
Mary hung out and watched the festivities.
Luke carted some of the empties.
Mike provided some entertainment.
Eventually, everyone went home except for Mike and Sandy. By the next day, Mary needed a bath in the worst way–not just any bath, but a bubble bath. She loved it.
What happened to my last post? It’s gone! And it was witty, too (of course it was).