Jeremy and I have been watching Grace and Emmy learn to love each other. It's so comical and sweet and endearing. They shriek with joy at each other morning, noon, and night. I had to go back to having them nap separately because they would just stand in their cribs and laugh at each other until they got cranky and overtired and started screaming. If either one is hurt and cries, the other one usually starts crying, too.
The other night in the car, after we'd stayed at the restaurant a little too long, Emmy was working herself up to a rage fit on the way back to the hotel. Grace leaned over, stretched out her hand, and said, "Hey hey hey," the same way I do when Emmy falls and bumps her head, and I'm bending down to pick her up.
I've made up bedtime songs for both girls. Not really intentionally. They just sort of happened. Neither one is sophisticated or even terribly original, but each daughter has one of her own. Grace's is markedly more interesting and melodic. If we have a child or two more, the last one will be stuck with grunts and jazz hands.
But it goes like this: "Emmeline, Emmeline, I love you, Emmeline, you're so sweet, Emmeline, I love you."
Tonight Emmy was fighting sleep harder than usual. There was more fussing after we put her down than there has been in a while (they mostly just laugh until they pass out an hour or so later). Jeremy came running into our room a few minutes ago and gestured me over. We leaned our ears against the door to the girls' room to hear Grace singing (tunelessly), "Emmeline, you're so sweet, Emmeline, Emmeline, you're so sweet, Emeline, love you, you're so sweet, Emmeline," over and over. She kept it up for at least twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.
They say kids don't learn things like (real, unselfish) love and empathy until they're much older, but I don't buy it. These two are nuts about each other.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Let me count the ways
Dear Utah:
I love you. I love you so much it borders on *idolatry.
I love mountains.
I love the grocery store one block from my house that has a produce section the size of the one in Woodman's and a bulk foods section the size of the produce section back in Jefferson. I love that a pound of ORGANIC raw sugar costs half what REGULAR raw sugar costs there.
I love that the city planners were geniuses, and I can get almost anywhere in the city within 20 minutes. Also, the grid system. Brilliant!
I love that this weather is considered unusually cold.
I love the millions of good consignment stores here. Thrift stores JUST for kids' stuff. Barely-used high-quality cloth diapers for $4.
I love this apartment. Just about everything about it, so I won't bore you with my mile-long list.
What don't I love?
Smog.
Stompy upstairs neighbors (we'll get used to it).
Our mailbox is across the complex.
As is the recycling dumpster.
And the regular dumpster.
Feh.
I suppose if Utah were perfect, I'd become spoiled. It's close enough to perfect for me.
*Dear church ladies, and maybe my dad: Not really! Hyperbole!
I love you. I love you so much it borders on *idolatry.
I love mountains.
I love the grocery store one block from my house that has a produce section the size of the one in Woodman's and a bulk foods section the size of the produce section back in Jefferson. I love that a pound of ORGANIC raw sugar costs half what REGULAR raw sugar costs there.
I love that the city planners were geniuses, and I can get almost anywhere in the city within 20 minutes. Also, the grid system. Brilliant!
I love that this weather is considered unusually cold.
I love the millions of good consignment stores here. Thrift stores JUST for kids' stuff. Barely-used high-quality cloth diapers for $4.
I love this apartment. Just about everything about it, so I won't bore you with my mile-long list.
What don't I love?
Smog.
Stompy upstairs neighbors (we'll get used to it).
Our mailbox is across the complex.
As is the recycling dumpster.
And the regular dumpster.
Feh.
I suppose if Utah were perfect, I'd become spoiled. It's close enough to perfect for me.
*Dear church ladies, and maybe my dad: Not really! Hyperbole!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Today is ever so much better
I would love to take the girls swimming during the day, but doing it by myself kind of scares me. Emmy would happily drown herself if I didn't duct tape her to my hands, and Grace is terrified of water any deeper than six inches. Might as well be acid. I'm going to take her swimming a lot next summer. Our pool is open 24 hours, and one-on-one, I'm not worried. I just can't imagine keeping track of both of them in such a dangerous place. I know I probably sound overly paranoid, but I almost drowned as a kid, and despite my love of swimming, I've never completely gotten over my fear of water, either. Especially not when my kids are involved.
We went and saw our new apartment last night. Well, it was a different apartment, same floor plan.
THE KITCHEN OH MY GOSH.
As much counter space as the kitchen in our house, lengthwise. But it's about a foot deeper. And granite. And the microwave is mounted over the stove, so that's an extra 4-5 sq feet (because our microwave sat in the corner on a diagonal, and that whole corner was unusable for any practical purpose, not because we had a microwave the size of a Panzer). A dishwasher! A pantry! A refrigerator that will hold more than a carton of eggs and a turnip! Drawers that roll easily! Cupboards that shut! No blasted radiators to lose peas and onion skins under!
If the rest of our apartment were a garbage heap, the kitchen alone would still make me happy.
The master bath has a gigantic tub. Okay, I've seen bigger, nicer tubs, but for an apartment, it's pretty spacious. I could fit in there sideways while pregnant with Grace, which is more than I can say for most other tubs (and doorways and grocery store aisles) in existence.
Walk-in closets in each bedroom.
Directly across the street from Jeremy's work and within walking distance of one of the best grocery stores in the area (or so I'm told--it's WinCo).
The girls have been sleeping like little champions since I last wrote. And I think they may just be good enough to nap in the same room together. I think I'll try it tomorrow. I've been skipping Emmy's morning nap. She's on the verge of giving it up, and while she might be a little crankier toward afternoon naptime, she sleeps much better and longer, and is happier overall. Plus, if they nap in the same room, it may buy me a few extra minutes while they cackle at each other after waking up.
Right now Emmy is awake in there, talking to herself and blowing bubbles and thumping around the crib. I suspect she's practicing walking. She takes a step or two at a time all day long, but I still wouldn't call her a walker. She's so, so close, though. Earlier today, she walked halfway across the living room before face-planting, but I haven't seen that feat repeated.
I should get her up soon, but it's too much fun to listen to her.
We went and saw our new apartment last night. Well, it was a different apartment, same floor plan.
THE KITCHEN OH MY GOSH.
As much counter space as the kitchen in our house, lengthwise. But it's about a foot deeper. And granite. And the microwave is mounted over the stove, so that's an extra 4-5 sq feet (because our microwave sat in the corner on a diagonal, and that whole corner was unusable for any practical purpose, not because we had a microwave the size of a Panzer). A dishwasher! A pantry! A refrigerator that will hold more than a carton of eggs and a turnip! Drawers that roll easily! Cupboards that shut! No blasted radiators to lose peas and onion skins under!
If the rest of our apartment were a garbage heap, the kitchen alone would still make me happy.
The master bath has a gigantic tub. Okay, I've seen bigger, nicer tubs, but for an apartment, it's pretty spacious. I could fit in there sideways while pregnant with Grace, which is more than I can say for most other tubs (and doorways and grocery store aisles) in existence.
Walk-in closets in each bedroom.
Directly across the street from Jeremy's work and within walking distance of one of the best grocery stores in the area (or so I'm told--it's WinCo).
The girls have been sleeping like little champions since I last wrote. And I think they may just be good enough to nap in the same room together. I think I'll try it tomorrow. I've been skipping Emmy's morning nap. She's on the verge of giving it up, and while she might be a little crankier toward afternoon naptime, she sleeps much better and longer, and is happier overall. Plus, if they nap in the same room, it may buy me a few extra minutes while they cackle at each other after waking up.
Right now Emmy is awake in there, talking to herself and blowing bubbles and thumping around the crib. I suspect she's practicing walking. She takes a step or two at a time all day long, but I still wouldn't call her a walker. She's so, so close, though. Earlier today, she walked halfway across the living room before face-planting, but I haven't seen that feat repeated.
I should get her up soon, but it's too much fun to listen to her.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The rest of the story... so far.
Okay, so. Saturday morning. We woke up an hour later than planned. Oops. It worked out fine, though; I somehow got everything organized and ready to go in the time it took Jeremy to take a shower. All he had to do was pack the suitcase.
A friend from the Internet very kindly offered to come help us get from the hotel to the airport. She called my cell phone while I was in the middle ofwrestling with feeding Emmy, so Jeremy answered. Friend was a little shocked; turns out she had thought I was by myself with two kids.
Oops. Again. I felt like a jerk, but it was still nice to meet her. And she really was a big help--both in helping us get stuff loaded, getting the packed luggage cart through the tiny doorways of the Marriott ResidenceInn in Rosemont (which, by the way, is not as nice as it sounds; broken door handle in one room, and wireless you have to pay extra for), getting everything loaded on the shuttle, wrangling children, and putting my mind at ease after the ordeal of our first trip through O'Hare. We made it to our gate an hour and a half early.
Almost no screaming on the flight from either child, very little crying, but a lot of whining from The Child. Rationally, I know that all this was extremely hard on her, but it's hard to keep a hold on that thought when your kid is driving you up the wall. Emmy slept half the way and laughed the other half. Both of them charmed the flight attendants, who were, by the way, the nicest flight attendants ever in history. We sat at the very back of the plane. The bathroom traffic and smell was a totally acceptable tradeoff for the engine noise that lulled Emmy into a deep, deep sleep and drowned out Grace's whining.
Speaking of which, she refused to sleep on the plane for even a minute. But she was sound asleep in the stroller by the time we got to the baggage claim. Poor thing. I walked her in circles for half an hour while Jeremy got the rental and loaded our luggage. My calves are still sore (I had Emmy on my back, too).
The kids have taken pretty well to sharing a room. Emmy screams vehemently for a few minutes, then passes out, and Grace has hardly peeped. The first night, Emmy screamed off and on for an hour. Maybe more. The same for her naps yesterday. Last night, she screamed halfheartedly for about 32 seconds and passed out. For her afternoon nap today, she kept it up for only 20 minutes (though I was certain it would be 45 minutes).
Yes, I know it sounds horribly cruel. But this baby is stubborn. She's not actually distressed and unable to sleep. She's screaming in order to keep herself awake. She did the same thing as a newborn, even when I was holding her in my arms. I would watch her hold out for half an hour or better sometimes. Eyes drift shut, head shake, maybe some crying, over and over again. I didn't even know newborns could do that.
Today has been much better than yesterday. Yesterday both kids were still terribly sleep deprived and disoriented. Today they're pretty well-rested and getting used to the hotel room. It's been pleasant.
Right now I'm starving but too afraid to order food, lest it wake the beast. Emmy finally gave up fighting sleep, and I have only a few minutes before Grace wakes up from her nap. I love this hotel room, except for one thing: the doors to the bedroom aren't like real doors. They're narrow double doors that swing together. And there's a quarter-inch gap between them and between them and the floor. So you can hear everything from room to room. Genius.
It's probably just as well. Ruby Tuesday delivers here (there's no room service), and I would order a ribeye every other hour if I could.
Tonight we're going to find a mall and walk around for a long time. We didn't pack warm enough clothes to go for walks outside (too bulky and too many other necessities for such a long stay). I also want to check out more consignment shops. I am now bent on getting Emmy a booster chair. And we need something to put on the carpet under our table, since I don't think the apartment owners will appreciate Emmy's penchant for knocking anything and everything off her tray (for such a physically adept child, she's awfully clumsy).
Also, we just found out that we'll definitely be here at least until the 7th. As happy as I am about ordering ribeyes to my ever-growing heart's content, being trapped in a hotel room all day is hardly on my list of favorite things ever. It would be different if Jeremy were here, but he has to go to work (we both decided it would be better if he dove right into work this week--both to save his days off and to make a good impression). So, any of you have any brilliant suggestions on what to do with two very small children in a hotel room all day?
A friend from the Internet very kindly offered to come help us get from the hotel to the airport. She called my cell phone while I was in the middle of
Oops. Again. I felt like a jerk, but it was still nice to meet her. And she really was a big help--both in helping us get stuff loaded, getting the packed luggage cart through the tiny doorways of the Marriott ResidenceInn in Rosemont (which, by the way, is not as nice as it sounds; broken door handle in one room, and wireless you have to pay extra for), getting everything loaded on the shuttle, wrangling children, and putting my mind at ease after the ordeal of our first trip through O'Hare. We made it to our gate an hour and a half early.
Almost no screaming on the flight from either child, very little crying, but a lot of whining from The Child. Rationally, I know that all this was extremely hard on her, but it's hard to keep a hold on that thought when your kid is driving you up the wall. Emmy slept half the way and laughed the other half. Both of them charmed the flight attendants, who were, by the way, the nicest flight attendants ever in history. We sat at the very back of the plane. The bathroom traffic and smell was a totally acceptable tradeoff for the engine noise that lulled Emmy into a deep, deep sleep and drowned out Grace's whining.
Speaking of which, she refused to sleep on the plane for even a minute. But she was sound asleep in the stroller by the time we got to the baggage claim. Poor thing. I walked her in circles for half an hour while Jeremy got the rental and loaded our luggage. My calves are still sore (I had Emmy on my back, too).
The kids have taken pretty well to sharing a room. Emmy screams vehemently for a few minutes, then passes out, and Grace has hardly peeped. The first night, Emmy screamed off and on for an hour. Maybe more. The same for her naps yesterday. Last night, she screamed halfheartedly for about 32 seconds and passed out. For her afternoon nap today, she kept it up for only 20 minutes (though I was certain it would be 45 minutes).
Yes, I know it sounds horribly cruel. But this baby is stubborn. She's not actually distressed and unable to sleep. She's screaming in order to keep herself awake. She did the same thing as a newborn, even when I was holding her in my arms. I would watch her hold out for half an hour or better sometimes. Eyes drift shut, head shake, maybe some crying, over and over again. I didn't even know newborns could do that.
Today has been much better than yesterday. Yesterday both kids were still terribly sleep deprived and disoriented. Today they're pretty well-rested and getting used to the hotel room. It's been pleasant.
Right now I'm starving but too afraid to order food, lest it wake the beast. Emmy finally gave up fighting sleep, and I have only a few minutes before Grace wakes up from her nap. I love this hotel room, except for one thing: the doors to the bedroom aren't like real doors. They're narrow double doors that swing together. And there's a quarter-inch gap between them and between them and the floor. So you can hear everything from room to room. Genius.
It's probably just as well. Ruby Tuesday delivers here (there's no room service), and I would order a ribeye every other hour if I could.
Tonight we're going to find a mall and walk around for a long time. We didn't pack warm enough clothes to go for walks outside (too bulky and too many other necessities for such a long stay). I also want to check out more consignment shops. I am now bent on getting Emmy a booster chair. And we need something to put on the carpet under our table, since I don't think the apartment owners will appreciate Emmy's penchant for knocking anything and everything off her tray (for such a physically adept child, she's awfully clumsy).
Also, we just found out that we'll definitely be here at least until the 7th. As happy as I am about ordering ribeyes to my ever-growing heart's content, being trapped in a hotel room all day is hardly on my list of favorite things ever. It would be different if Jeremy were here, but he has to go to work (we both decided it would be better if he dove right into work this week--both to save his days off and to make a good impression). So, any of you have any brilliant suggestions on what to do with two very small children in a hotel room all day?
We're here*
*Don't worry; all is well now! The girls settled into the new room well last night, and we all got some good sleep. And even the chaos of the last couple of days wasn't that bad. I was too excited to get too down about anything.
Wow, it's been a while. Again with the Full Brain Syndrome.
But we are safely on the other side. One last hurdle: moving in and unpacking. Right now we're staying in a hotel while Jeremy's job pays for meals, our room, rental car, and gas. Once the movers are here and our apartment is ready, we are good to go. I'm not sure I want to leave, though. I like not having to cook.
Friday was not fun. It was supposed to go like this:
I spend the night at my friend's house on Thursday with the girls. I stay there, keeping them to their regular schedule as much as possible, until the movers are almost done.
I go back up to Jefferson around 2. That's when the movers are supposed to be done, and that's when the tow truck is supposed to arrive for our cars. That's also when our van driver is supposed to get there to take us down to Chicago.
No. Here's how it really went:
After a late night with the girls, who would NOT fall asleep (since when have either of them been so sensitive to their surroundings?), I get a call from Jeremy at 8. The tow truck driver was there for our cars.
So I got ready as fast as I could, got the girls up, gave Emmy a bottle, and threw some Cheerios at Grace on the way home. The van driver got there around noon. The movers didn't have our stuff packed until almost 6. We and the girls spent the entire day standing around in a cold house while strange men hauled away our stuff into a gigantic truck. You can imagine how Grace felt about this. She handled it better than I would have expected, but it still wasn't fun. Emmy passed out on my back for about twenty minutes, but Grace didn't sleep at all until we got to the hotel.
Oh, the hotel. The girls slept in the same room for the first time ever and did pretty well after the first hour or so.
It was New Year's Eve. People were lighting off fireworks. I heard the police knock on the door across the hall once. People ran up and down the halls half the night. Jeremy snored blissfully through all of it, as did the girls. Me? I laid in bed getting angrier and angrier at Jeremy for breathing and moving and EXISTING. It's a good thing I have the ability to recognize when I'm being irrational and should just move to the couch.
Shoot. Need to go. Children need tending.
Wow, it's been a while. Again with the Full Brain Syndrome.
But we are safely on the other side. One last hurdle: moving in and unpacking. Right now we're staying in a hotel while Jeremy's job pays for meals, our room, rental car, and gas. Once the movers are here and our apartment is ready, we are good to go. I'm not sure I want to leave, though. I like not having to cook.
Friday was not fun. It was supposed to go like this:
I spend the night at my friend's house on Thursday with the girls. I stay there, keeping them to their regular schedule as much as possible, until the movers are almost done.
I go back up to Jefferson around 2. That's when the movers are supposed to be done, and that's when the tow truck is supposed to arrive for our cars. That's also when our van driver is supposed to get there to take us down to Chicago.
No. Here's how it really went:
After a late night with the girls, who would NOT fall asleep (since when have either of them been so sensitive to their surroundings?), I get a call from Jeremy at 8. The tow truck driver was there for our cars.
So I got ready as fast as I could, got the girls up, gave Emmy a bottle, and threw some Cheerios at Grace on the way home. The van driver got there around noon. The movers didn't have our stuff packed until almost 6. We and the girls spent the entire day standing around in a cold house while strange men hauled away our stuff into a gigantic truck. You can imagine how Grace felt about this. She handled it better than I would have expected, but it still wasn't fun. Emmy passed out on my back for about twenty minutes, but Grace didn't sleep at all until we got to the hotel.
Oh, the hotel. The girls slept in the same room for the first time ever and did pretty well after the first hour or so.
It was New Year's Eve. People were lighting off fireworks. I heard the police knock on the door across the hall once. People ran up and down the halls half the night. Jeremy snored blissfully through all of it, as did the girls. Me? I laid in bed getting angrier and angrier at Jeremy for breathing and moving and EXISTING. It's a good thing I have the ability to recognize when I'm being irrational and should just move to the couch.
Shoot. Need to go. Children need tending.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
My head is too small
Remember the "My Brain Is Full" entry a ways back? Yeah, that's what's been going on. People to see One Last Time, chipped paint to take care of, children to keep alive, et cetera. It also means my funny bone is mostly gone, but I'll update just because a few of you have asked. Once I'm less overwhelmed, I'm sure I'll have all sorts of things to say. Probably more than you want to hear.
Emmy is thisclose to walking. Grace was thisclose to walking for months, but she's certainly more cautious than Emmy. I don't think Emmy will wait until she can walk perfectly. She's perfectly happy crashing into sharp objects all over the place. I catch her halfway up the stairs several times a day. Blockading them with chairs doesn't work anymore. She just slides right under. I'm so glad we're moving soon. Carrying her on my back all the time is good for me, but it's also tiresome.
Speaking of Grace, she is suddenly... normal.
She's still shy, but she smiles at and flirts with anyone and everyone so long as one of us is close at hand. She asks for vegetables. She picks up mushy food. She doesn't throw a fit if I wait until the end of breakfast to wipe the yogurt off her face and bib. Screaming during hairwashing has gone from Psycho to barely a yelp. She ate seven large, weird-looking mushrooms (in sauce!) at dinner today. I don't know what happened, but I'm not going to question it.
We found a good home for the cat. Jeremy dropped her off today. Huuuge weight off our shoulders.
That's all. I'm kind of fried. I'll be back soon. We move in two weeks, and then I'll never shut up.
Emmy is thisclose to walking. Grace was thisclose to walking for months, but she's certainly more cautious than Emmy. I don't think Emmy will wait until she can walk perfectly. She's perfectly happy crashing into sharp objects all over the place. I catch her halfway up the stairs several times a day. Blockading them with chairs doesn't work anymore. She just slides right under. I'm so glad we're moving soon. Carrying her on my back all the time is good for me, but it's also tiresome.
Speaking of Grace, she is suddenly... normal.
She's still shy, but she smiles at and flirts with anyone and everyone so long as one of us is close at hand. She asks for vegetables. She picks up mushy food. She doesn't throw a fit if I wait until the end of breakfast to wipe the yogurt off her face and bib. Screaming during hairwashing has gone from Psycho to barely a yelp. She ate seven large, weird-looking mushrooms (in sauce!) at dinner today. I don't know what happened, but I'm not going to question it.
We found a good home for the cat. Jeremy dropped her off today. Huuuge weight off our shoulders.
That's all. I'm kind of fried. I'll be back soon. We move in two weeks, and then I'll never shut up.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The grass is greener
Please don't take this personally, but I hate all these Facebook status memes floating around. Even the funny ones. I don't know why. They make me so crazy. I think maybe it's because the "serious" ones made me so irate in the first place that even when the satirical ones came along, I only had space in my cold little heart to put them on the same shelf as the serious ones. But every time a new one pops up, I want to kick a puppy.
The more I think about this apartment we're moving to, the more I think I may never want to move again. Washer and dryer included, ground floor, single level, attached garage, open kitchen/dining/living area, no yardwork. I HATE our setup now, even though it's one of the things that attracted me to the house in the first place.
I wanted a kitchen separate from the rest of the house. Now that I have it, I hate it. Our old apartment had a tiny kitchen right in the middle of the unit. Now, it was a very efficient use of space; instead of putting a useless hallway to the bathroom and bedroom, they put a kitchen in. But it took forever to get anything done in there if there was anyone else there, and it heated up the entire apartment. So I thought I wanted a kitchen separate from the rest of the house.
Now that we have one, I know better. Our kitchen is not conducive to play time. It's always cold (or super hot) in there, and the floor is always freezing. So the girls prefer to be out in the living room and dining room. This is kind of nice; I can get things done in the kitchen without small people under my feet, but it also makes me feel a bit isolated. If Jeremy's home, he's stuck in the living room with the kids while I'm cooking. If he's not home, the girls are playing by themselves in there or long stretches of time. I'm all for independent play, but sometimes I spend a loooong time in the kitchen cleaning, cooking, preparing snacks or meals ahead of time, whatever. It just seems so neglectful.
Speaking of Facebook and bad parenting, a friend posted this:
I don't know why it bugged me so much. I don't typically take other people's parenting choices as an attack on my own. I really don't care what other people do with their kids, so long as they're not abusing them.
I'm not a "babywearer"; I mean, I tote Emmy around in the Ergo a lot, and I did the same with Grace in the sling (which Emmy loathes with every little muscle in her body), but it's purely utilitarian. My children are too heavy to babywear all the time, even with a good carrier. I breastfed, but when it wasn't working anymore... meh. We're switching to cloth diapers, but it's almost entirely to save money.
And I'm enthusiastic about the things that have worked for us, too. Early sleep training, swaddling, to name a couple. Both of these are things some people strongly dislike. That's fine. It's worked for us, and it doesn't have to work for them.
But it was sounded so smug, as if to say, "I'm a superior parent because I do X, Y and Z!" Even if X, Y, and/or Z are better for kids, that doesn't mean that the other millions of parenting choices we make every day don't even us all out. I know someone else who does all these things, but the house is filthy (we're not talking just clutter and unvacuumed floors; it's much worse than that). It is, in my opinion, a horrible environment for a child to grow up in.
Feh. This is not a person who is typically smarmy and judgmental about such things, so I should probably just let it go.
My sister dear is expecting another baby. I am positively giddy about this news. I am excited to have a cousin in the family who will be close in age to my own. And I'm excited that it will be the branch of the family that's closest to us. Not close close, but at least Colorado and Utah share a border.
Speaking of which, I need to call her.
The more I think about this apartment we're moving to, the more I think I may never want to move again. Washer and dryer included, ground floor, single level, attached garage, open kitchen/dining/living area, no yardwork. I HATE our setup now, even though it's one of the things that attracted me to the house in the first place.
I wanted a kitchen separate from the rest of the house. Now that I have it, I hate it. Our old apartment had a tiny kitchen right in the middle of the unit. Now, it was a very efficient use of space; instead of putting a useless hallway to the bathroom and bedroom, they put a kitchen in. But it took forever to get anything done in there if there was anyone else there, and it heated up the entire apartment. So I thought I wanted a kitchen separate from the rest of the house.
Now that we have one, I know better. Our kitchen is not conducive to play time. It's always cold (or super hot) in there, and the floor is always freezing. So the girls prefer to be out in the living room and dining room. This is kind of nice; I can get things done in the kitchen without small people under my feet, but it also makes me feel a bit isolated. If Jeremy's home, he's stuck in the living room with the kids while I'm cooking. If he's not home, the girls are playing by themselves in there or long stretches of time. I'm all for independent play, but sometimes I spend a loooong time in the kitchen cleaning, cooking, preparing snacks or meals ahead of time, whatever. It just seems so neglectful.
Speaking of Facebook and bad parenting, a friend posted this:
I don't know why it bugged me so much. I don't typically take other people's parenting choices as an attack on my own. I really don't care what other people do with their kids, so long as they're not abusing them.
I'm not a "babywearer"; I mean, I tote Emmy around in the Ergo a lot, and I did the same with Grace in the sling (which Emmy loathes with every little muscle in her body), but it's purely utilitarian. My children are too heavy to babywear all the time, even with a good carrier. I breastfed, but when it wasn't working anymore... meh. We're switching to cloth diapers, but it's almost entirely to save money.
And I'm enthusiastic about the things that have worked for us, too. Early sleep training, swaddling, to name a couple. Both of these are things some people strongly dislike. That's fine. It's worked for us, and it doesn't have to work for them.
But it was sounded so smug, as if to say, "I'm a superior parent because I do X, Y and Z!" Even if X, Y, and/or Z are better for kids, that doesn't mean that the other millions of parenting choices we make every day don't even us all out. I know someone else who does all these things, but the house is filthy (we're not talking just clutter and unvacuumed floors; it's much worse than that). It is, in my opinion, a horrible environment for a child to grow up in.
Feh. This is not a person who is typically smarmy and judgmental about such things, so I should probably just let it go.
My sister dear is expecting another baby. I am positively giddy about this news. I am excited to have a cousin in the family who will be close in age to my own. And I'm excited that it will be the branch of the family that's closest to us. Not close close, but at least Colorado and Utah share a border.
Speaking of which, I need to call her.
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