It officially happened. I went out in public with shiz on my shirt. I had to know this occurrence would be likely pretty soon, as Mabel's shizzes have become more plentiful and, um, powerful, let's say. She has managed to ruin a couple of her onesies, and a few pajamas have fallen victim as well. Generally speaking, though, we do a good job around here of keeping everything contained and clean. The occasional poop- through is inevitable with a baby, but what was strangely surprising was seeing poop on my lovely hunter- green top when I was already in the car-- too late to do anything about it. The only remedy at my fingertips was a pack of pacifier wipes; I tried vigorously to remove or lessen the mark that the Mighty Shiz God had bestowed upon my clothing, but the weak, organic, baby- safe paci wipe was no match. Its poopy foe had won the battle, and there I was with its emblem, right smack on the middle of my shirt while speaking with a woman whom I don't know all that well. What does one do-- make a joke? I went with "Don't say anything at all and maybe she wont notice." I'm sure the sweet lady did, in fact, notice, but maybe she could have convinced herself it was a sauce from cooking or something. I'm still a little befuddled because on this particular day, and with this particular shiz, we didn't have an explosive moment. It was, rather, pretty tame. I guess, though, these things are rites of passage. Yay, me! Momhood! It reminds me of the Sex and the City episode (yes, don't mind if I do make a reference to that yet again) when Miranda edns up with baby shiz on her forehead and Steve has to tell her so. Now that'll be a fun day!
In cleaner news, Mabel is grasping at everything. She moves her teeny little fingers all over her toys and animals. It's rather sweet. And her newest move in the land of mobility is scooting around and upward in her sleep. I find her in the crib in the morning far from where I planted her. This morning she was looking up at me with a sinister little smirk, like, "Hee- hee, wouldn't YOU like to know how I manuevered this?!" At least these days she can't stand up or try to wiggle her way OUT of said crib.
She's down for a nap as I type this. We've started the "whine it out" mode for naps. I used to coddle and rock her until she fell into a deep slumber. In reading and speaking with friends, I decided she's old enough to start learning the self- soothing process. Now, Mom- police, I wouldn't let her scream- cry it out. This is just that "I'm soooo tired" whine, and within ten minutes she's out like a light. Go Mabel! You are becoming so independent, and Mom and Dad appreciate it!
No comments:
Post a Comment