Wait, what was I saying?

Just when you can no longer burn 500 calories a day by exlusively breastfeeding you start burning 800 calories a day running around your house one step behind the little guy averting disaster. Even making dinner becomes and aerobic feat as you put the water on to boil, run to the family room to check on the baby, cut up a carrot, run to the living room to retrieve the piece of Tupperware you need, put the chicken in the microwave to defrost, leap over the kitchen table, sweep baby into your arms as you say firmly but calmly for the frillionth time that day "NO fireplace. NO fireplace."

(I just can't stomach becoming a hand slapper. The fireplace fascination seems to be waning so I hope I'm on the right track)

Bedtime came about thirty minutes early tonight and both Charlie and I were happy to have the rest.

Charlie graduated to the Crawlers room at church today and he didn't tell his new teachers that he usually has a nap at 10:30. At 10:45 he went for a ride in the Bye Bye Buggy with his class, which is made up of five other babies who are all older than Charlie and much more fun for him than the tiny babies in the Infant room where he was before. By 12:00 they found him standing at the music table bent at the waist, head down on the keyboard.


We went out for breakfast this morning. Ryan and I each had a breakfast taco and a donut. Nibbs had a dry Kashi hippie waffle and some water in his Man Cup.


Our coaster days are over. Tip for the pre-climbing set? Use board books as coasters. Or better yet, only drink things in the kitchen and only put them on the counter, which, thank goodness, is still out of reach.

Ryan fixed another computer problem I was having. It was a totally inexplicable problem I was having Saturday morning with software I wrote in 2002 that has been working just fine ever since then. It just stopped working on Saturday morning when I needed it, causing data not to go where it was supposed to and me to collapse on my bed in angry angry tears laced with many many threats about quitting. Ryan "fixed" it by doing exactly what I had done, only he is a man.

That last paragraph was mostly to show my Grandma P that I am working. Endlessly. On my dissertation and on keeping the house going and on all of us eating and wearing clean pants. Oh shoot I forgot to put MY laundry in.