The Child. Can crawl. Mostly, it's still the zombie flop, but she crawled yesterday. Twice. She also tried climbing the bookshelf and fell sideways on her head. One of the funniest things I've seen all week. She fell over, paused, went, "EH! EH! WAAH!" and then zombie flopped over to something shiny.
This crawling is something of a problem. She often wedges herself into corner of her crib, but if I give her a couple minutes, she'll fall back asleep. This morning at 6:30, she started screaming. This is normal. She usually stops in about five seconds. Today she didn't stop. So I went in there to find her on all fours, face pressed against the foot of her crib, unable to back up or roll over without smacking her head on something.
I moved her, and she fell asleep right away, but woke up again five minutes later. And proceeded to go in and out of sleep every 15 until just after 8:00. It was so much fun. Also, her sleep-deprived grouchiness was a real trip all morning. We had such a blast, screaming, crying, clawing my face.
Short of velcroing her flat on her back, I don't really know what to do about it. Do babies eventually learn not to sleep crawl? Please tell me they do.
It's June bug season (June bugs always come in May; why are they called "June bugs"?). Every night, they buzz the window screens behind the couch. I feel them crawling on my neck, crunching under my shoes. There's a dead one in our mailbox, and I can't get it out because I'm a nancy. So it just sits there, taunting me, every time I get the mail. The first time I ever cheered a spider was the other day, when I saw a giant June bug dangling in a web. I may have done a gleeful fist-pump or seven.
On Wednesday I spent all day weeding the raspberry patch. It was completely choked with dandelions and some kind of viny violet-type plant. And bumblebees and, in my head, hordes of spiders. It was five hours of adrenaline surges, with me dancing across the yard, batting at my body and yelping every ten minutes. If the neighbors didn't think I was crazy after this incident, they certainly do now.
So, I spent five hours stooped over and pulling weeds, and by the end of the day I could hardly walk. Every muscle on the backside of my body, from top to bottom, was soup. Thursday was even worse; muscles were not just weak and shaky, but also very, very angry. Friday was a little better. But the aches weren't gone until Monday. I tend to get overzealous when I start a project. I couldn't have just weeded an hour every day for five days. No, it had to be every free minute of an entire afternoon. The same thing happens with housework.
I found only one spider in all that time. But it was a pretty horrible spider. It was hiding down near the ground, in the base of a dandelion plant that I'd ripped up. I didn't see much, just a shiny bumblebee-like body, but that was enough. The thing was enormous, for around here. The body was the size of a large marble. I think it was a garden spider.
I had a big stick. For a minute, I screamed and jumped and pounded my stick into the ground. Like an excited cavewoman. This, I think, is why the neighbors don't bring pie.
I'm starving, and all this talk of bugs and spiders has me a little leery of the couch I'm sitting on. So I should get off it.