Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Pre-interviewing



This morning we had a PRE-interview for a spot on the waiting list for a home daycare in our neighbourhood. It went really well...it's crazy - it was more about her interviewing us than us interviewing her. We really liked it though...but spots opening up are rare so I doubt we'll get in. The point is: we passed. As the Dotytron says, "you love passing stuff" - it's true. I love being validated by some kind of assessment process. She said she'd put us in her file of people to call if a spot becomes available, but I'm not holding my breath.

Today marks the beginning of sleep training for the Boobla. Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuun. The daycare lady said that sleep training is super important. We do it at night already - he seems to understand that after giant bottle, swaddle, story, song, and head pats it's time to go to sleep for a good stretch. Nap times are a different story and are pure randomonium currently. He kind of goes down whenever/wherever, averaging about 2 a day. I don't really see the point of structured naps because I'm not finding his randomonium impeding my daily life - like, I'm still leaving the house and doing my errands on my own time, and he pretty reliably falls asleep/chills out whenever he's in his stroller/carrier. But I can see why daycare providers would prefer a kid who consistently knows how to put themselves to sleep at fairly regular times of the day.

[edit: time lapse]

Well, we just had a visit from my friend in my book club C, who brought her 6 month old baby N along. This means a few things: 1) Sleep Training: Nap edition has been postponed because he's all jacked up and we're about to go for a walk to our local yarn purveyor, which means that once he's in the car seat in the stroller he's going to conk out, requiring negatory training. 2) I got all freaked out because C is part of like, 3 different mom clubs and does mom & baby yoga, mom & baby cardio, and has a tonne of friends with babies. I'm all worried that **I** should join a billion mom clubs or that the fact that I'm perfectly content to meet up with people a couple of times a week and to see friends/family on weekends and spend the rest of the time at home doing errand-y/house-y/grad school-y type stuff means that there's something wrong with me.

I mean, I don't feel like I'm lacking in social interaction. If anything, I feel like our social calendar is too busy, considering it's only the second weekend of February and we're already booking into March. And I'm really happy to hang out at home, calling our mechanic, calling daycares, working on my school stuff, going grocery shopping, going to the library, and making nice dinners...so I guess I just answered my own question. There are many models of maternity leave and motherhood and I suppose mine don't include hanging with a bunch of stranger-lady moms drinking coffee and talking about parenting styles, per se.

That being said, I do have enough people in my life who have babies. Some are good friends from work, some are more acquaintances from various points in my life - if I slot them all in once a week, I feel like I'm doing enough socializing with people who can answer my questions on sleep training and when to start solid foods and what's the next car seat level to go up to (since Master T's feet are DANGLING OFF THE ENDS OF HIS INFANT CAR SEAT AT NOT EVEN FOUR MONTHS OLD). Oy. This kid is a juggernaut.

This is Monday's curried sweet potato soup, which we had with a baby spinach salad and warmed pita with PC baba ghanouj:

Last night for dinner I made that broiled feta, grape tomatoes, and olive thing with rosemary and chili oil - so simple to put together and so tasty scooped up with more warmed pita. We had a hearty caesar salad on the side:


This week of eating healthfully has been going well so far. I am considerably buoyed by the fact that I've been fitting into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. Only one pair though. One pair that I'm pretty sure was mislabeled a 27" waist. WHATEVER. I want to get back into a regular yoga routine, if for nothing else than to give my jacked-up back a break from hauling the little electric tubalub around.

Tonight we had shrimp po' boys with a celery root and apple remoulade and kale chips:


The shrimp was dredged in flour with creole seasoning, then an egg wash, and then a masa harina/cornmeal mixture with creole seasoning. The remoulade had Zataran's creole mustard in there. This dinner was DELICIOUS.

I feel like I've gotten my knitting mojo back. I'm starting a scarf for the Dotytron (thus the trip to the Purple Purl today) and a hat for myself. Trying to eke out time is damn near impossible but I have to start prioritizing this stuff, if for no other reason than it makes me feel like more of a whole, normal being again. There are exciting plans a foot for my super-close, super-longtime friend T to come and visit from Vancouver at the end of April and I'm BEYOND excited. WestJet was having a 72 hour seat sale and I wanted to capitalize on it, but being tied to the school calendar is really limiting and it would have meant that we would have flown to Vancouver for only 2.5 days, which even at the heavily discounted seat sale rate, doesn't make sense. So instead I've cajoled her into coming here! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!

This summer is going to be the summer of fun poverty. My work maternity leave top-up dries out in late June, which means we'll be running on fumes. But we have my family's cottage week to look forward to, cottage time at the Dotytron's family cottage hopefully, a road trip to Cleveland, maybe some time spent at the farm with R & R and their menagerie, and definite weekends in Geneseo. Pretty damn full if not exactly glamorous.


Speaking of R&R Acres - R gave us this pair of baby slippers for the Boobla and they're THE BEST. Not only do we want them for ourselves, but seeing him wearing what comes down to baby Uggs is hilarious. The best is when he's in a little short sleeved onesie and wearing them - boy babies in Uggs are the cutest, if only because they remind us of Jason Segel in I Love You, Man.


Fin.

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