Mother of the year so far: Let your baby chew on her nasal aspirator (the snot blaster). She is obsessed with that thing. I think it's the bright blue. Or maybe she's just trying to conquer her fears by becoming intimately familiar with her torture devices. Or maybe she just likes to chew on anything and everything in her path. Like a puppy. I gave birth to a puppy.
Baby fever has passed. Thank goodness. I still want another one, but I don't WANT another one. For a week or so, though, it was pretty much the only thing I could think about.
Also, I have not eaten the baby. Yesterday turned out not to be One of Those Days. But have you seen those cheeks? It's still pretty tempting.
I woke up this morning with a wicked headache. This actually happens a lot, but it's usually just tension in my neck and shoulders that goes away a few minutes after I start moving around. I've tried everything to fix that, including sleeping in uncomfortable turtlenecks to keep my neck warm, but it doesn't help. Anyway, this wasn't a tension headache. And it wasn't a migraine, either. It felt like my brain was six sizes too big for my skull; every time I moved my head, it just throbbed. I popped three ibuprofen, drank a ton of water and coffee, got the baby and hoped and prayed she'd take forever to eat so I could just lie there while my headache went away. If only I could be so lucky. She chowed in record time and then started playing with my face.
It finally went away after about 45 minutes. I wish I knew where it came from. I don't often get inexplicable headaches like that; they're either migraines or from tension. They're actually a lot like the headaches I got when I was first pregnant with Grace. No, I'm not pregnant again. I already thought of that.
The house is a total pigsty. I spent hours the other day picking up, doing laundry, cleaning toilets, and everything was shiny and wonderful. How can it possibly be so messy in just a couple days' time? It's not like Grace is tearing around the house yet. And James is very neat. So that leaves me. Or Cat. I think I'll blame Cat.
James was gone last night. I made the mistake of reading some Stephen King short stories before bed. In my haunted house. Alone.
That was bad enough before we had Grace. I'd lie awake in bed, planning how best to defend against disgruntled ghosts (To fellow Supernatural fans: I don't own a shotgun. Or rock salt. Must get on that.). Now I imagine myself tearing out the eyeballs of a crazed serial killer before he can get to the nursery or distracting the ghost in the attic long enough to keep it away from Grace until the sun comes up. I'm such a dork.
I always forget how much I hate this time of year. Wisconsin teases us with a few spectacularly beautiful days, and then craps all over us for the next month. I just have to keep reminding myself that warmer climates have terrifying insects and spiders the size of my face.
A few days ago James brought up the Yellowstone Caldera. I'm not a fearful person, but now I'm obsessing just a little bit about the demise of North America under sheets of ash and liquid hot magma. I alternate between being scared and a little excited about such a spectacular natural disaster. I keep thinking, "This would make and AWESOME movie." And it would, if it were done right. If it ever is a movie, though, I'm sure some idiot directors and screenwriters will cheese it up like Volcano from the late '90s. I must admit, though, that I loved that movie. I think it was Tommy Lee Jones that did it. They better just not make it as bad as The Day after Tomorrow.
Oh, I just checked. There IS a movie about it: Supervolcano (tagline: "Scientists know it as the deadliest volcano on Earth. You know it...as Yellowstone."). But it's a docudrama. Blah. I want a movie with over-the-top special effects and a thin plot and fun actors. Docudramas bore me.
I'm off to write a really bad screenplay.