Monday, January 26, 2009
I see you.
we're officially cool.
one could say we've given each other significant opportunities for growth, and, though painful, it was probably at the very least not fatal, and possibly even (at the end of the day) healthy in some respects.
and I can see that you mean what you say.
I apologize for not answering you sooner, but Wolfie's got me on the run lately. No sooner do I get used to one developmental stage but he's on to the next one and I'm left holding the onesie...
(really, if it's not covered in puke, poop or pee, I tend not to notice, whatever it is. and even if it is covered in puke, poop or pee, I tend not to notice that either.)
you know, he's coming up on his first birthday. I never ever expected to be here, man. seriously.
he's whatchacall an "easy" baby, still. "low needs", so to speak. he likes to play with blocks, chew on books (oy), fling stuff out of his playpen (or, as we call it in our house, the +2 Pen of Playing, full of Toys of Amusement). he was never colicky, or particularly screamy. he sleeps soundly, if not through the night, and he has a healthy appetite. he's appropriately appealing in every way.
and as I've been jacked up on oxytocin for the past year, I haven't noticed much else. (most of which I have noticed lately has been traumatic enough that I don't-wanna-talk-about-it.)
but I haven't been completely comatose. I discovered this site, Blue Milk, following a link offa some comment thread at Twisty's, some new skirmish in the Feminist Mom Wars. and she has a bunch of questions that look really delicious.
if I type really fast, maybe I can say everything I've learned about feminism and motherhood in the past year:
or maybe not.
what I can say, here:
when both you and the baby are covered in puke, clean yourself up first. you get to. you'll feel better. there's no extra credit for sacrificing yourself on the altar of motherhood.
of course, now that I have made that bold statement(haha), my freakishly low-needs baby decides he has a need of some kind. but I think I've said my piece for now.
and Ginmar, if I didn't make it clear before, let me make it clear now - I am honored to, internet-ly speaking, shake hands and part friends.
Good luck with the little guy. Based on what I see with my girls, brace yourself for tweenhood and teenagerhood. Yikes.
I'm waiting for some kind of massive explosion any minute now. if I survive until he's twelve, I'll consider myself lucky!
it's been really educational, following your adventures with your girls. how are they doing today?
The older one doesn't like being asked to do stuff and snaps at her younger sister, as if she's a princess who shouldn't have to do stuff. The younger one pretends to not know what to do when it comes time for chores. It's stuff I've either seen or done myself when I was that age.
I have to go referee. When they're asked to multitask they quite swiftly lose their tempers. Holy cow. It's....illuminating.