I’m writing this from the JFK Airport in New York, while on a layover before continuing on to LONDON and then to ROME.
Because J is JUST. THAT. COOL. Merry Christmas indeed! Will share details later.
Hope you’re all having a great holiday, though I’m betting it’s not as cool as mine (insert maniacal laughter here)…
Everything is in the laundry again, including Button’s favorite Monkey Dude, several changes of clothing (both hers and ours), all her bedding and various other items unlucky enough to be caught in the fire.
Monkey Dude has survived one spin cycle and we’re hoping that he’ll be just as resilient through the next one, as we have discovered that the toy has apparently been discontinued so there are no replacements to be had.
We have discovered that soy milk is not a good thing, particularly when combined with Clementine oranges. A shame, really, since she quite enjoyed the consumption of said oranges and imitation milk substance (aside from tasting terrible, does anybody else think that the idea of milk made out of soy is just…wrong somehow?).
Fortunately, she was not bouncing on my tummy this time, so the projectile spewing was not aimed directly at my face. This is a tremendous improvement over the last pukefest episode.
My goal was to get all of our laundry done before the inlaws left (since I was obviously unsuccessful at getting it all washed before they got here). This incident has put me behind by several days at least.
One of the words that is now gracing my daughter’s vocabulary is “hot” (or “Ott). She understands the concept of “hot” insofar as she is not, under any circumstances, to touch something that is “hot.” If I label the oven “hot,” she’s pretty good at keeping away from it. She does not, however, fully understand the meaning of “hot” beyond the fact that it has to do with temperature. Nor does she understand that food which was once “hot” becomes “cold” and “yucky” after a prolonged period of time.
Me: (placing a glob of her favorite delicacy, macaroni, in front of her)
Her: (gently touching a single macaroni with her index finger) Ott.
Me: It’s not hot.
Her: Ott.
Me: Button, it’s not hot. It’s warm.
Her: (refusing to have anything to do with the macaroni) Ott.
Me: Warm. Warm is good. You can eat warm food.
Her: Ott.
Me: Look, I’ll show you. I’ll eat some too. See? Not hot. Warm…ish. Can you say “room temperature?”
Her: Ott.
Me: No, not hot. Lukewarm.
Her: Ott.
Me:Â It’s not hot.
Her: Ott.
Me: Ok, now it’s cold.
Evidently, cold macaroni is acceptable. Because, you know, it’s not hot.
The in-laws are coming today and staying until January 5th. Which means I have approximately 4 hours to do 25 pounds of laundry.
Yes I weighed it, shaddup.
Am I the only person who has relatives stay for extended periods of time? Every time I tell somebody that my in-laws stay for 2+ weeks at a time each time they come down from Seattle, whoever I’m talking to invariably looks at me as though I’ve just grown a second head.
Having my mom ready and willing to care for Button on the 2 days every week that I work is great.
Unfortunately, it also comes with some downsides … such as when I have to remind her which of us is the parent.
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