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Baby update
We bought a new car seat. P. came over with baby R. on Friday afternoon, and I got out my tape measure, and P. is a labor and delivery nurse so knows how to measure - Casper is about 27 and a half inches long. Which puts her over the 99th %ile according to the chart I have. So, she's tall. (Official 6 mo. checkup is next week.)
Fad of the moment - tags. Like, the tag on the back of her piglet toy, the tag inside her hat, the tags on everything. We should get her a job at Consumer's Union, because she fondles them and stares at them like she's reading them. And then sucks on them. Amusingly, I saw a toy at a granola-y toy store a couple of weeks ago that was a triangular piece of polarfleece with tages spaced every 3 inches along the edges. At the time, I was like WTF? Now I know. I guess tag-fascination is a stage, but they don't mention it in the baby books. mr. flea suggests we show her the Mother of All Tags - on the mattress, of course.
Casper ate carrots Saturday and Sunday. She prefers bananas, but did okay with carrots. Had a tendency to store them in her (voluminous) cheeks like a chipmunk, then drool them out later. Note to self: cuisinart is a better tool for pureeing carrots and suchlike than the blender.
I had a tough weekend, due largely to sleep deprivation, due largely to the Evil Frat Boys who live next door and had talky gatherings in the wee hours both Friday and Saturday. Saturday was rather horrible at points, but thankfully I got the melodrama over by 2pm and we had a good evening. I survived Saturday night's wakefulness by saying "I can call in sick Monday." And then, I DID. I was a little sniffly, and certainly in danger of becoming sick if I didn't get more sleep, but I still wrestled the guilt demon fiercely in bed at 6:30 Monday. And won. And the nanny came, and I napped, and gardened, and took a bath, and napped more. And it was wonderful. And I have the sick time, and I should stop feeling so guilty because God knows they can do without me at work.
Fad of the moment - tags. Like, the tag on the back of her piglet toy, the tag inside her hat, the tags on everything. We should get her a job at Consumer's Union, because she fondles them and stares at them like she's reading them. And then sucks on them. Amusingly, I saw a toy at a granola-y toy store a couple of weeks ago that was a triangular piece of polarfleece with tages spaced every 3 inches along the edges. At the time, I was like WTF? Now I know. I guess tag-fascination is a stage, but they don't mention it in the baby books. mr. flea suggests we show her the Mother of All Tags - on the mattress, of course.
Casper ate carrots Saturday and Sunday. She prefers bananas, but did okay with carrots. Had a tendency to store them in her (voluminous) cheeks like a chipmunk, then drool them out later. Note to self: cuisinart is a better tool for pureeing carrots and suchlike than the blender.
I had a tough weekend, due largely to sleep deprivation, due largely to the Evil Frat Boys who live next door and had talky gatherings in the wee hours both Friday and Saturday. Saturday was rather horrible at points, but thankfully I got the melodrama over by 2pm and we had a good evening. I survived Saturday night's wakefulness by saying "I can call in sick Monday." And then, I DID. I was a little sniffly, and certainly in danger of becoming sick if I didn't get more sleep, but I still wrestled the guilt demon fiercely in bed at 6:30 Monday. And won. And the nanny came, and I napped, and gardened, and took a bath, and napped more. And it was wonderful. And I have the sick time, and I should stop feeling so guilty because God knows they can do without me at work.