Wife-dar

not sure why husbands think wives have a special radar for all things.

"Where is the sunscreen?"

"In the diaper bag."

"Where is the diaper bag?"

"In the foyer."

"Where IN the diaper bag is it?"

"The side pocket."

"Inside side pocket or outside side pocket?"

"JUST LOOK WITH YOUR >>>EYES<<<"!!!

First day of daycare...

So Monkey started daycare today.

I expected tears and wails and uncontrollable sobs, but I managed to control myself. Monkey was more than fine.

She forgot I existed the moment another baby dragged an empty yogurt container over to her. Me, her mother, her guardian, provider of love, nurturing, care and comfort was replaced by an empty 1% MF tub of vanilla dairy product.

After coming to terms with the idea that I was completely disposable, I turned to see Monkey accosting a little boy and now I'm pretty sure they are boyfriend and girlfriend.

3/5 of the other babies had runny noses, coughs and/or were sneezing. I had to stop myself from grabbing Monkey and running out the door when she actively sought out THOSE kids to put her fingers in their mouths. 

One of the daycare instructors started to describe to me a system of weaning called 'baby linguini.' After I stopped laughing I managed to let her know it's actually called 'baby led weaning.' I have yet to come across a system of weaning that involves a diet consisting of only linguini for 6 month old infants.

All in all, it went remarkably well. Not sure why I was up till 330am last night worrying about it! I know today was the easy part though; I was there the whole time (though I tried to be out of sight for a while). Tomorrow the real test begins. I have to leave her there alone for 45 minutes out of 3 hours. Then on Friday she's all by herself for 3 hours! We'll see how this goes...

You know you're a mommy of a young baby when...

You're at a nice restaurant with your friend and WITHOUT your baby and you mindlessly start cutting up your food into teeny tiny pieces.

Post-partum bod

There are days when I feel really good about my post-pregnancy body...like the three days after that horrible bout with norovirus that left me svelt and chiseled-looking.

Then there are the days when Monkey grabs one of my belly rolls to help her stand up.

Elliptical, here I come!

Blah blah blah

My husband has incredible filters. In his ears.

I start talking and I can practically HEAR the filter "snap" as it turns on. It's a very special filter that allows him to hear only key words so if I accuse him of not listening, he can regurgitate most of the key ideas all the while thinking about the NHL draft.

Sometimes the filter fails.

Yesterday we were driving up to the Tim Horton's drive-thru and I told him: "I want a small iced cap with REGULAR milk because I'm tired of CHOCOLATE milk and I'd like 3 TimBits but not the raisin ones."

What he heard was: "I blah blah blah blah blah chocolate milk blah blah 3 Timbits blah blah raisin."

And that's what he ordered: a chocolate milk ice capp with 3 raisin Timbits.

As we pulled away from the drive-thru (so there were no witnesses) I ripped him a new one and accused him of never listening, to what he of course said, "what?".

This was all very reminiscent of when I sent him to buy me slippers and I said "ANYTHING BUT WHITE" so, of course, I got white slippers.

I find that if I start talking and his eyes glaze over and the filter snaps on, I just have to be a bit creative to snap him back and throw in some key words to get his attention. "Sweetheart could you take out the trash... BOOBIES...and I also need you to finally hang up those shelves...PIPA MIDDLETON...and lastly the recycling could go out...MORE BOOBIES!" Never fails. Thank you Pipa.

Why don't they sell baby strait jackets? - edited

Some Monkey-related tasks are easy: entertaining, feeding favorite foods, going for walks.

Some Monkey-related tasks are hard: getting her to sleep, getting her to STAY asleep, feeding her, changing her, dressing her, bathing her ...you get the gist.

One of my least favorite tasks for the Monkey is getting sunscreen on her. She wiggles, squirms, she crawls away, she tries to lick it off herself, she tries to eat the bottle...

I figured out a solution.

Monkey aka "Baby Houdini"...swaddling never lasts very long.

I swaddle the heck out of her.

Arms pinned by her sides I can actually apply sunscreen to her face (which is generally the hardest part). Now not sure how to get her to stop licking it off her arms...

Substitutions aren't appreciated by everyone...

Some people are very picky about things. I usually just roll with it. My husband...doesn't.

I'll give you an example.

This morning I was doing laundry. I discovered that I was out of our regular laundry detergent so all I had left was the Purex Baby detergent.

  

I thought that stuff was pretty heavily scented when I first bought it (before Monkey was born) so I never really used very much.

I realized that Monkey was pretty much out of clean clothes that actually fit so if I didn't do laundry, I'd be cramming her back into her 6-12 month sleepers which she outgrew months ago.

So into the wash went the sleepers, onesies, socks and pants. I still had tonnes of space in the washing machine. I don't like to be inefficient so I tossed in husband's underwear, socks and a couple of his shirts and away the laundry went.

Husband put on a freshly laundered shirt this afternoon and freaked out that he 'smelled like an infant.'

Apparently men have a strong preference for smelling like sweat, horses, and Old Spice to something that came out of a bottle with a cow jumping over the moon. Who knew?

When husband goes out with Monkey for their 'dates' (almost always to Home Depot, cause I'm sure she LOVES that) he refuses to carry my girly diaper bag. Something about it robbing him of his masculinity or something...*eye roll*

In any case, what he does is pick through said diaper bag, get out what he wants, throws it into a plastic grocery bag and takes that along.

I have no problem with this. In theory.

I do, however, have a problem with the fact that he never puts anything BACK. That means, I'm going out with Monkey and I can only locate her left shoe (he left the other one in the car...cause why would shoes need to be together?). That means I'm out and about with Monkey and it's hot, and there's no sippy cup. Or her diaper explodes, and there's no change of clothing. Or she's throwing a tantrum that only a baby crunchie will quell and they're at home, in a plastic bag, under the coffee table.

I'm not sure how I can finally get it through to him that things need to be where I expect them. From this day forward I will be hiding one of each of his shoes. His underwear will now reside in a secret location. His cereal will be living in the (unlit) fireplace. It will be a delightful daily treasure hunt. Much like mine!