oh, i forgot to tell you

During our holiday visit at my parent's house, I camped out with the baby overnight downstairs. This made my pillow convenient for use as a nursing pillow during the day.

One morning, Mary says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. She peed on your pillow."

Merry Christmas! I'm hoping to just get some coal in my stocking next year.

new shoes

Whose idea was it to make new shoes white? There is probably a lake in China half full of the chlorine bleach used in the shoe manufacturing process. And for what? So my kid can cry on the way home from school about how her "shoes aren't new anymore" after one day on the playground? That was sure worth the extra money to get her the Stride Rights.

Why not make the shoes gray from the start. And use recycled materials. They outgrow the shoes in 4-6 months anyway, at which point they'll be on their way to the dump. Or waiting around to be little sister's play shoes.

These are the first shoes she has had with strings. The strings are stiff and short - I can barely double tie them myself. It's going to be a nightmare if we try to teach her to tie these shoe strings. At least they're so short they won't trip her when the come untied. Apparently no part of the Stride Right surtax goes into the strings. But they did come with a magic wand which, when waved over the tongue of the left shoe, triggers the shoes to play a little song. Only top of the line stuff for my kids (when the grandparents are paying).

12 days

The baby decided to stop pooping 12 days ago. She seems happy, but 12 days? The phone calls and interventions began on day 9. I, of course, get the honor of ... it's a blog, right, Too Much Information is the whole point ... the honor of inserting things where things are not meant to be inserted. Nobody likes this. Not me. Definently not the baby.

And the result was very disappointing. Mary didn't even want to count it as a Poop. I told her that if I did that in my pants, it would count. She still wasn't convinced.

So last night and today the baby started to actually act unhappy - up until now, she seemed oblivious to the rebellion in the far reaches of her bowels. Now she was making new squeaky noises that were not cute and trying to pop her feet through the bottom of her footied pajamas every few minutes.

So off to the doctor they went. And back they came an hour later with supplies for daddy: purple non-latex gloves and some ketchup packets full of lube. Suit up daddy! Luckily for me, and certainly for the baby, there was no need for a performance of "where is thumbkin" by the purple man quartet.

"She pooped!!! Come look!!"

Just another typical dinner conversation around here.