When letting babies cry it out I thought there were only two outcomes. 1) Baby eventually falls asleep. 2) Parents eventually can't take it anymore and rescue baby. Molly, however, chose a third option. After howling nearly an hour, she was strangely quiet. Could it be? we asked ourselves hopefully. I gingerly tip toed upstairs and into the bedroom aaaand there was Molly, wide awake and grinning at me.
I bought my mom a computer game at Target. And because I knew she would want me to show her how to play, I had to open it up and try it myself. I'm kind of disappointed. It's a murder mystery game (I'm Hercule Poirot!) but instead of hunting around and figuring things out, it's more one of those Find Twelve Million Objects In This Room kind of games. With a small helping of Ask These Characters These Specific Questions and a dash of Ridiculously Easy Puzzles. I am a big fan of the Nancy Drew games where you feel like you're actually sleuthing instead of hunting for the Elephant and the Egyptian Eye and Twelve Marbles and A Suit Of Armor in a Where's Waldo-type screen shot. I wish the Wii had some kind of detective mystery game. Think of all the time I could waste!
I really want to buy this (in red) (even after I told you I don't like Pottery Barn). I think it would take care of my scary kitchen corner issue, but come on! Sixty bucks? Seriously? And that's ON SALE. Boo hiss.
I also want to buy this. In white, for my bedroom. I swear, every couple of months I think up some way to improve my bedroom and every time I think THIS IS IT. This is the piece of furniture or rearrangement or plant or curtains or duvet cover or picture that is finally going to make me love my bedroom, but it never happens. I think this bookcase thingy could be it, though. Really. It's more storage AND a way to break up my vast green wall. If only Phillip thought it was the perfect solution too. And wanted to go to his favorite store, Ikea.
Well oh my stars and garters, people, my daughter fell asleep on her own. She was up and down fourteen times tonight and on the fifteenth time I reached the place I was at yesterday, the place of There Is Nothing Left For You To Do But Cry. So I put her down, turned on her noise machine, popped in a pacifier (which, of course, she promptly spit out) and left. She didn't make any noise. At all. I waited. Read blogs. Listened to husband detail the myriad number of ways my parents' computer, which he is trying to de-virus, is well and truly messed up. Told husband to check on baby. Verdict: Asleep. I am fully expecting my 7th quick take to be: Baby awake again.
I said a bad word in front of Jack today. I was trying to get his shoes on to go outside and I didn't have anywhere to put Molly, so I propped her up in the corner, on the floor, in the cement-floored entry way. (Rotten Mommy Strike One.) Jack wouldn't sit still to get his shoes and coat on, so I yelled at him (Rotten Mommy Strike Two) and then Molly, naturally being a bit annoyed, kept arching her back and kicking her legs out and oh my goodness I was afraid she was going to scoot so far away she'd crack her head on the floor. So I said, "EXPLETIVE!", jammed Jack's extremities into their proper casings and whisked Molly off the floor, just as Jack said, "EXPLETIVE!" (Rotten Mommy Strike Three!) I said, "Jack! Don't say that!" which only made him say it a dozen more times. And the fact that he was saying it in his barely understandable toddler accent doesn't make things any better. Yeah, I'm feeling pretty trashy about this one.
I'm growing out my bangs. It is driving me CRAZY. I cut my bangs right after we got married and I had them ever since. Know why? Because growing them out makes me CRAZY. But the last time I went to the girl who cuts my hair, I let her decide. I was banking on bangs, but then she asked me a practical question: Do I have time to get them trimmed every other week? And, upon hearing me guffaw in response, suggested I just grow them out instead. HATE.
Oh, and the baby's still asleep. Shall we pop the champagne?