yes, month. It's been a slow winter, what can I say? And we authoritarian folks make a point of learning as little as possible, lest it remind us that we actually have that which we might learn. shudder.
* while you might let your partner sleep through some of early labor, the same courtesies don't apply when the baby's febrile and cranky. Share the joy!
Note: letting one's partner sleep during early labor allows a certain heroic aspect to gild the lily. Plus, admittedly, it is one of the few remaining private moments between mama and internal passenger. Those are to be cherished - especially before the roaring pain hits. There aint nothin' special about a febrile, cranky kid in the wee a.m.
* nobody, but nobody can rush the Oven Guy. He worketh in his own time, despite the desperate woman who raileth at him from behind. But a Mama scorned is one who leaves grumpy reviews on Angie's List... and calls to complain about the broken glass oven window. For it all makes work for the workingman, hey?
* neighbors who live in glass houses...will grow trees that scrape up your own. And then play dumb when this is pointed out. But the Mama, she is cunning, and knows a good lawyer - who will tell her that a tree limb that hangs over on her side of the fence, lo it is her own. Oy.
* she who purchases the bulk diapers is not guaranteed that they will fit by the time you finish the box. But she who makes dinner for a new family will have someone to give the diapers to... Chesed or good move? You be the judge.
* dare to nibble, oh-so gently on your partner's ear, and the baby will awaken. What is that, sonar?
* dare to share a blog with the uninitiate and they will assume that you have oodles of spare time. Wazzup wit dat?
*Support your wonderful, impossible to find nanny and she will feel like you also support her attempt at a career move. Consider sitting shiva.
For those of you who have read this far, I offer a vignette as reward:
squeal, gurgle, gnaw, THUMP. Bweaaah! (maternal sigh)
I look up from my post at the dryer to see the baby, face flaming brighter than his hair as he roars his fury over whacking his head on the floor. I cuddle, soothe, then replace him on the floor. He balances on his bottom, and reaches for the toy I've set between his legs. Happy gnawing, drippy drooling, and I give in to temptation and carefully set cushions around him, in anticipation of another impact.
I return to the dryer and the unfolded laundry. Sure enough, soon the baby begins listing to starboard, as he attempts to reduce his toy to a flattened remnant. Swish, THUMP. Bweaah! And I look over to see that Murphy's Law of Hemophilia* holds true for the clotting, as well. I pick up the indignant young sir and soothe him again. And I wonder.
At what point will he give this sitting thing up as a bad job, bound only to cause headaches? (literally - he falls in such a way as to reliably whack his head) An adult would walk away after two or three attempts, writing the skill set off as a potential pyrrhic victory. But babies are absolutely determined. Just as, I suppose, he really feels that he might just manage to flatten that hard wood rattle into pulp. I recall his older brother, when as a new crawler, he crawled into the couch and spent some time trying to crawl through it. Surely the immovable object will yield to the irresitably cute force? Um. Perhaps we adults are already too pulpy, having lost that absoluteness, that stubbornness somewhere along the line. But when did we trade fear, reluctance for determination? Today, I feel like I want a do-over. Tomorrow, however, I may have relapsed into my habitually maturely mushy state.
*Murphy's Law of Hemophilia has two elements: 1. if two boys are on the sofa, and one is reading a book and the other is climbing up to the back, then leaping off, laughing and doing it again, which has hemophilia? 2. if you pad every hard edge and corner in your house, the kid will find the one minute spot you missed and whack his head on it. Hard. Preferably right before/during a family gathering, or, if he's particularly talented, right before picture day at school.