Archives for the month of: January, 2014

January 7: This is best done on the second day in a row of single-digit weather in a usually warmish climate, when getting out of the house just doesn’t seem like a good idea.

One tube of yogurt, generally marketed for consumption by children or those on the go.

1. Remove the tube of yogurt from the refrigerator.
2. Tear off the top bit of plastic as instructed; throw the trash in the trash.
3. Hand open tube of yogurt to your hungry preschooler. Be sure that the baby is nearby.
4. Direct your attention elsewhere while your preschooler is about to consume the yogurt.
5. Turn back in surprise when you realize the baby has taken the tube of yogurt into his hand and shaken it gleefully, like a hose in the summertime. 
6. Shriek, just a little bit, before tossing the limp remains of the yogurt tube into the trash and assessing the damage.
7. Remove all clothes from your preschooler; skip the hamper and put them directly into the washing machine.
8. Check your son for the tell-tale scent of strawberry yogurt; remove socks and zip-up hoodie. Take these directly to the washer as well.
9. Spot-check the rug for evidence; wipe at least three spots.
10. Laugh at yourself. What else can you do?
11. Remove an additional tube of yogurt from the refrigerator for saddened preschooler and hope for the best…

My math for the day: Months in = Months out. Nine = Nine. A balanced equation with nothing to solve for. (Apologies to my preposition-at-the-end-of-a-sentence hating mathematician of a husband.)

Today, Baby Boy, formerly known as Baby Baby, is nine months old. Sure, if you want to quibble, my math isn’t exactly right: He was born at 40 weeks + 1 day. That would be January 18th. Some two weeks of that were pre-conception, however. 38 weeks + 1 day would put us in the past, on January 4th.

So I made a choice. Life is often about choices – what to eat for breakfast, which shirt to wear, whether you can find enough calm in you to gently admonish your shouting daughter while trying to lull your son to sleep. This time, I choose to celebrate today in two ways: happy nine month birthday, Baby Boy, and happy balancing day. Right now, your story arc makes a perfect “v”; soon, one side will grow longer…and longer…and longer. And longer and longer, if my hopes become reality.

For the moment, I’m enjoying the balance. Nine months = Baby Boy = happiness.

Who knew carrots were soothing?