Sorry I went dark again. School started back on Tuesday, and I'm still recovering from how productive I've had to be the last two weeks. And I'm lethargic because it's HOT. Going back to school is supposed to be tinged with autumn and pumpkin spiced stuff. Sweaters get me in school mode, but right now sweaters make me want to gag. Between the heat and the fact that Jacob's working late tonight, I was ready to put Jake and myself down for the night at about 3.
Actually, I'm considering making Jake live in his crib until he develops more coordination.
Because the nightmare of all nightmarish milestones is upon us: Jake has learned to climb.
Whenever he encounters a new largish object, he immediately lifts his leg and tries to get a foothold on it. This has all but ruined my life both because I'm always having to get him down from things and because I'm sure he's going to learn how to climb his way out of the porchplaypen and plummet to his death.
Because the nightmare of all nightmarish milestones is upon us: Jake has learned to climb.
Whenever he encounters a new largish object, he immediately lifts his leg and tries to get a foothold on it. This has all but ruined my life both because I'm always having to get him down from things and because I'm sure he's going to learn how to climb his way out of the porchplaypen and plummet to his death.
Today I was fussing with our dinky washing machine because I thought I'd broken it, when I heard the Jake-just-fell-off-something thud. But there was no crying baby, just a sick silence. I called Jake's name. Nothing. I ran out onto the porch and looked over the ledge. No baby. I ran into the bedroom. No baby. I turned back into the living room - the very room I'd just run back and forth through three times - and there he was perched happily on the back corner of the couch. My scurrying and screaming was quite the show apparently because he started cracking up.
The sound I heard was just the little monster lifting the banjo that hangs behind the couch and slamming it against the wall. Brilliant.
So I cuddled him on the couch, stroking his wispy hair while I settled down my racing heart and thought about how dear he was to me...for about 2 minutes, before I went back and started fussing with the washing machine again and he returned to his climbing expeditions.
So that's my dud of a story. It's all I can muster right now.
Well...after that things got real and baby started dancing on the table. And I recorded him because that's how we roll.
In the good news tent because I'm already feeling a little better about life than I was, oh, three lines ago:
My washing machine is fine. (Tying up loose ends. It's essential for good storytelling.)
My sourdough is bubbling away, and I've become a sourdough pancake maestra. Tomorrow I shall try my hand again at some bread. My first loaf was a Fail McFail and my second was perhaps a C-. So...only the finest in my kitchen.
Now
Go make coconut milk with Farrah because it doesn't get any cooler than that.
Or go visit Lara and make yourself at home in her beautiful blog while you wait patiently for her to post about her new little bundle because that's what I'll be doing.