Wednesday, July 2, 2008

We'rew Crackin Up Around Here...In More Ways Than One

The latest pictures from the super talented and super awesome Meghan McSweeney

I don't know how other Moms keep up with their blogs. As a matter of fact, I don't know how other Moms keep up with anything at all. I feel like if I've either a) showered b) made something vaguely resembling a meal or c) clipped the LFM's super bionic fingernails that grow like a chia pet on steroids then I've really accomplished an amazing feat for the day. Before having a baby, I thought that I would have so much extra time, being a stay at home Mom, that my home would be sparklingly pristine and all of my meals gourmet. With fancy folded napkins. Maybe even cloth napkins. Fast forward to the present, where if any part of my home sparkles its probably because something was spilled there once upon a time and its better that no questions are asked. My definition of gourmet meal has expanded to include haphazardly thrown together quesadillas filled with all sorts of mysteries from the fridge and if we were to even attempt cloth napkins, we'd probably end up using somewhat questionable cloth diapers while waiting for the original napkins to be washed at some unspecified future date and time. I may be exaggerating a bit, then again, I may not all depends on how deep our friendship goes and how much you're willing to forgive. The point is that when given 20 minutes of nap time at a stretch and the choice between scooping cat litter and blogging, the cat litter usually wins, even if the blog smells so much sweeter.

The LFM is now over 5 months old, and despite all efforts to slow down time and simply enjoy the present moment (at the expense of productivity and cleanliness) I can't help feeling like father time is robbing me blind- sneaking in the back door while I'm distracted by a poopie diaper or an adorable coo and cleaning the place out. How could my sweet little monkey already be 5 months old? If I wake up tomorrow and he's off to college, I'm gonna be super pissed. I mean it. And that feels entirely possible at this point- our sweet boy is growing up and developing just that fast.

He now rolls over both ways, sometimes spinning faster than a whirling dervish on crack, and can now roll across the bed or floor by executing consecutive rolls in the same direction. I'm trying to teach him how to roll into the kitchen and fix Mama a sandwich, but so far he just laughs at that idea. As a matter of fact, he laughs at pretty much anything and everything these days, and we've spent up to a half hour just laughing back and forth at each other. Its utterly adorable. The Little Funky Monkey can also scoot across the floor or bed on his back, though luckily he is less adept on his stomach...for now [insert ominous music here]. He has so much of an awareness of the world around him, and his favorite toys by far are those two freaks and weirdos he lives with who make all sorts of ridiculous faces, songs, and dances to amuse him. He also still loves his play mat and we just picked up this used exersaucer from craigslist...jackpot! I call it heaven in plastic. Not only does he go apeshit for this toy, but this little gem let me sweep the kitchen and the bathroom today. Not that I enjoy housework, on the contrary sweeping is about as fun as file folder paper cuts, but the dust bunnies were demanding dinner too, and they don't eat quesadillas. So thank you, dear exersaucer people, you've made my son scream with delight and you've made walking through my kitchen a possible feat once again.

He is also becoming such a Daddy's boy, though the true test is about to be undertaken. I'm doing a little one performance short play, and have rehearsals for 3 hours every night next week. I'm actually more worried about my milk supply suffering than I am of the LFM suffering; WB is a great father and I think they'll so just fine. Me, on the other hand...I'll be the one shaking from withdrawal, certain that my baby is being eaten alive by hungry dust bunnies while I become the Sahara desert of breast milk. But I will be a Sahara desert doing what she loves, and that's important too. I'll just be surgically attached to the pump the other 21 hours of the day and breast milk will be fine.

I hope.

The LFM is giving me the best little smile and laugh right now, so if you'll excuse me, I think we have a crack up party in the making.