1. the importance of easy-to-remove winter shoes
tell me, do these even exist? because turns out they are a necessity that i have yet to embrace. remember how hard it was to tie your shoes toward the end of the first pregnancy? and then remember how impossible it is to carry a sleeping baby from her happy sleepy slumber in the car to her crib on the second floor while keeping the floor clean? combine the two now. impossible.
if you’ve managed to turn off the rockabye baby pandora station, haul in two loads of groceries, let the dog outside so she doesn’t bark or do that horrendous collar scritch-scratch ‘i’m going to wake up the baby with fun jingling sounds because i can’, and then slide baby out – ever – so – very – gently without waking her, you’ll already be patting yourself on the back. but then, flash forward to: you’re at the door and realize there is mud all over your paige tall frye boots. is it worth the labor of busting out the mop for the wooden stairs and putting the baby at risk of toxic chemical fumes from the resolve triple oxi advanced carpet stain remover you’ll have to use? no, you decide. so you bend over, grab your ankle. baby’s head thrashes back. you hop several times. that’s soothing to the baby, right? you finally walk over to the couch even though it means a few steps on your white living room rug (because that was ever a good idea) and sit down. baby immediately starts crying. no longer in motion, she knows she must be in great danger. baby opens eyes; sees toys still scattered about the living room because you don’t bother to pick them up before a quick errand to fred meyer that turned into a two-hour let baby roam the toy, baby clothes, and beer (this i surprisingly find to be the safest of the grocery sections for a toddler who refuses to sit in a shopping cart like every single other good toddler i see in the store – nothing’s reachable) aisles while you check your pinterest for machine-washable stylish winter sweaters because spit up and your closet full of cashmere, it turns out, do not mix; and she’s ready to play.
so, baby’s up. a 10-minute nap seems to have done the trick until about three hours later when it’s too late for a second nap and too soon for bed-time and you are left with a monster for two more hours, including dinner-prep time. so it’s time to call husband and order him pick up pizza, again. because life is just too hard to bear. and those ever-so-well-intentioned collard greens, kale, and chioggia beets will spend yet another day in the fridge…probably to their demise.
so, not to go on complaining too much about my leather boot collection (i know, fwp), but there must be another way. tell me if you’ve found it. i refuse to sit in the car listening to hours of kiddie music just so bee can finish her sleeps uninterrupted. and if i can use this to justify a shoe purchase, well then, i will.
and on a totally unrelated note, this is a series i like to call, ‘torture’.
oh ya, and if you’re counting, that was only one. bee woke up. so it goes.