So, mommyhood can be hectic. Hence the last post on here having been so long ago. Let the updates begin.
Madam says "mama". A lot. And thinks it's particularly hilarious when I say "no, say da-da". She laughs, looks me straight in the eye, and mouths "mama" with intent. She also eats. A lot. Himself's sister and her husband were up for a visit yesterday, and that means cinnamon roll pancakes. Madam had bits off everyone's plates. Then we went for a roast dinner at our local pub. We got an extra plate, upon which I put a little bit of everything from my dinner. She ate corn, peas, carrots, green beans, mashed swede, broccoli, and cabbage, all of which went down with alarming speed. Let's just say, today's nappies have been a magical mystery tour through everything she's eaten in the last couple of days. Her other favourites include avocado, rusks, black olives, and I'm currently feeding her bits of a banana while I type. It stops the yelling.
Let's take a moment to catalogue the additions to the growing "Things I Never Thought I'd Do Because They're Totally Gross or Make Me Look Crazy" list.
1. I kiss her right on the mouth, even if it's spitty.
2. If it falls out of her mouth onto her shirt, her face, or my hand, I eat it. And lick my fingers.
3. I have been known to sing while walking down the street because it makes the yelling go away.
4. Sometimes nappy changing can be a bit like an extreme sport. Sometimes poop gets on my hands. Most of the time, I wash my hands straight after the change. Sometimes I don't. I'm pretty sure I've never eaten anything before the next handwash, but I couldn't be certain.
On the "Gabs the Person" (versus the other Gabs, "Gabs the Mama") front, I'm still blazing through the house trying to get things liveable in the long term sense. I've done everything from sorting through Madam's ever growing too-small pile of clothing to replacing the showerhead and hose and painting the downstairs bathroom. Bright blue. Without permission from Himself. It looks awesome.
Anyway, all is well in the House of Gabs. Thus, we go to bed (where Madam STILL sleeps like a starfish). G'night, one and all.
Madam says "mama". A lot. And thinks it's particularly hilarious when I say "no, say da-da". She laughs, looks me straight in the eye, and mouths "mama" with intent. She also eats. A lot. Himself's sister and her husband were up for a visit yesterday, and that means cinnamon roll pancakes. Madam had bits off everyone's plates. Then we went for a roast dinner at our local pub. We got an extra plate, upon which I put a little bit of everything from my dinner. She ate corn, peas, carrots, green beans, mashed swede, broccoli, and cabbage, all of which went down with alarming speed. Let's just say, today's nappies have been a magical mystery tour through everything she's eaten in the last couple of days. Her other favourites include avocado, rusks, black olives, and I'm currently feeding her bits of a banana while I type. It stops the yelling.
Let's take a moment to catalogue the additions to the growing "Things I Never Thought I'd Do Because They're Totally Gross or Make Me Look Crazy" list.
1. I kiss her right on the mouth, even if it's spitty.
2. If it falls out of her mouth onto her shirt, her face, or my hand, I eat it. And lick my fingers.
3. I have been known to sing while walking down the street because it makes the yelling go away.
4. Sometimes nappy changing can be a bit like an extreme sport. Sometimes poop gets on my hands. Most of the time, I wash my hands straight after the change. Sometimes I don't. I'm pretty sure I've never eaten anything before the next handwash, but I couldn't be certain.
On the "Gabs the Person" (versus the other Gabs, "Gabs the Mama") front, I'm still blazing through the house trying to get things liveable in the long term sense. I've done everything from sorting through Madam's ever growing too-small pile of clothing to replacing the showerhead and hose and painting the downstairs bathroom. Bright blue. Without permission from Himself. It looks awesome.
Anyway, all is well in the House of Gabs. Thus, we go to bed (where Madam STILL sleeps like a starfish). G'night, one and all.
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