So, a funny thing happened after I lost all that weight after Em was born. I gained about five back. That's not a lot, but I have NO IDEA how it happened. I am going, going, going all day--none of it really hard, but I almost never stop moving, except for when I sit down to nurse Fleshloaf. Picking up the house, doing laundry, dishes, cooking, playing with a toddler, going for walks, *ellipticalling (which I've only been doing for three days, so I guess it doesn't really count), not to mention burning an extra 500 calories a day feeding an infant. So where did this five pounds come from? I MUST KNOW.
*What do you call it? "Working out" sounds so braggy, not to mention false, given the extreme low intensity of whatever it is that I'm doing. It's not running or jogging. There needs to be a word. "Ellipticalling" is just too much word. Hm.
Spawn has been, well, SPAWN the last two days. I can't make up my mind whether to discipline her or comfort her because I can't tell if she's whining from the 85 teeth she has coming in or if it's because she's a toddler and needs to learn impulse control. Well, some situations, it's obvious which is which. But most of the time I have no idea if she's acting up or if she's in pain.
I think it should be illegal for children to get any teeth until they're fluent in their native language. I also think it should be illegal for children's arms to be long enough to reach their diapers until they're old enough to potty train. I have several other ideas waiting in the wings if those ever pan out.
I have noticed lately that anything in our upstairs bathroom always ends up smelling like onions. I have no idea why. Our bathroom doesn't smell like onions. There isn't a vent or anything coming from the kitchen cupboard where I keep the onions. And while I cook with onions almost every day, all the cooking smells seems to concentrate in the stairwell and nowhere else.
I do not appreciate toweling off in the morning with the equivalent of a giant, fuzzy onion skin. This mystery must be solved.
Finally, I must tell you about the Miracle Blanket that arrived in the mail today. I've put off getting this thing because I already know how to swaddle, and it's $30. I also wasn't sure if it was made for a child as robust as Emmy. Girl has some meat on her. And she grows about an inch a week.
But... swaddling is a total pain in the butt. Especially in the middle of the night when I can barely see straight, much less perform origami tricks on an angry squid.
Fleshloaf is not the kind of kid who just sits there and takes it. All these books say things like, "Once your baby gets used to the process, he will start to calm down at the mere sight of the swaddling blanket." To which I say, "Pbbbbt." Fleshloaf screams and grunts and squirms, and it's nearly impossible to swaddle her tightly anymore. For me, at least. And she keeps kicking loose, something Grace couldn't do regularly until she was almost three months old.
So I decided to try this thing out. Boy howdy, I wish I'd bought fourteen, and I wish I'd done it a year and a half ago. It's amazing. And a much less painful process than using a regular blanket. If you are expecting a baby, I command you to buy one. If your kid hates it, I'll buy it from you.