Thursday, June 16, 2011


It worked for a couple of nights, but now, after Elliot dumped the entire contents of the toy box (including a metal lunchbox-like object and a plastic music cube and several other hefty but nonlethal toys) one by one into the crib before five in the morning...Corryn has moved back into the pack-n-play in the bathroom for her own safety. Everyone was quite unhappy with the situation, but I think, in the end, Elliot was the worst off.

Corryn is trying hard to grow several teeth (though the one on the bottom is still the only one you can see when she smiles) and is enjoying some new foods. She's nine months old now. It was at this point last time that we got pregnant again, which is baffling now. She's not quite crawling (Elliot didn't either until ten months), but she does inchworm and breakdance and roll and thus moves effectively in every direction but forward. She surprised me this morning by repeatedly pointing to my nose when I asked her to, and then pointing at her own nose. She doesn't do it every time, but it's clear that she knows what it means. She's still the sweetest baby around, and when we treated ourselves to California Pizza Kitchen last night she captured the flirtations of every single neighboring diner after bestowing her charm and smiles on them.

Elliot was intrigued last week by the idea of Corryn getting in trouble, and tried to get her in trouble by intentionally putting his head within her reach and, when she grabbed for his hearing aids, looking at me expectantly saying, "Corryn no touch? Pinch?" He's currently in a "What's that!?!" phase, even for objects he's very familiar with. Every time we go outside or look at a book or watch a show, "What's that? What's that?" And the other night, I was putting together one of those all-in-one-bag salad kits. Elliot was sort of narrating what I was doing. I opened the packet of dressing (a strawberry vinaigrette) and poured it on, and he yells, "Aaaaaaaaaand medicine!" And he was right. Totally looked like Pepto.

As for the grown-up half of this family, we're trying to figure out what to do with our summer. We're at something of a crossroads where one road is money and another road is another way to get maybe more money and another road is school and another road is a mix of all the other roads. It doesn't really matter that much, because a few dollars more or less and we're still going to be just as broke in the end. I've actually been able to work at illustration for my full hours this week (thanks to Andy having a week off from school), and in many ways being a part-time laborer and a part-time mom is much, much easier than being a full-time mom. But I'm getting the feeling that that part of me is going to have to wait for another season in life. And I'm learning to be okay with that.

By the way - my husband is rockin grad school, and he's the best.

1 reason(s) to click here:

Sarah said...

Yes! Being a FT mom is hard. But I hear ya. Being a PT laborer is too. Something has to give. Isn't it weird to think about the whole I-was-pregnant-again-when-my-first-was-this-age thing? #3 seems light years away.