did 8 loads of laundry. mopped the kitchen floor, including wiping down the baseboards. made vegetable stock. finished cutting the fabric for the twinslers’ quilts. did most of the grocery shopping. sorted and delivered seven (COUNT ‘EM!) bags of baby clothes to goodwill. sorted and delivered two HUGE boxes of maternity clothes and one medium-sized box of infant boy clothes to auntie ‘ra and cousin emmet. baked bran muffins. delivered bran muffins and one box of infant girl clothes to the twinslers’ house. caught up on top chef & damages. made paneer. worked on potty-training with mairin (no, tim, we’re not done yet.) rearranged the living room furniture (slightly). wrote a little bit. took the kids to the park. walked the dogs.
and in this corner, weighing in at 15 pounds, the round mound of rebound, our very own sweetness, mr. september, the deacon of arbor avenue, the sultan of swat and swing:
eeeeeamooooon….shannnnnonnnnnn…smith!
forgive the old-man pants. it’s laundry day at our house.
bonus points for those who name the sports heroes behind the nicknames (tim and christopher, you must refrain from answering immediately.) extra extra bonus points if you can add an appropriate metaphor of your own.
mairin is fascinated with thomas the tank engine — she received some track as a gift not long ago, and since then she has added several new engines to her collection. every evening includes the question “is it too late to build track?” and most mornings begin with dumping the track on the floor and playing with her engines. even more fascinating is that she has full-fledged conversations with her engines, as well as with the other engines she doesn’t have. she’ll ask carole, “where are henry and edward?” (two missing from her stable) and then proceed to “find” them (usually in my pocket) and play with them, right alongside the more physically present thomas, percy, and james.
all of this is prelude to the most recent addition to her engine collection (the physical one, not the imaginary one), diesel. (and yes, we are sucker-fools who are likely to make a run for contact solution and come back with a new thomas the tank engine engine and forget the contact solution.) diesel was a surprise choice, since he’s an unsympathetic engine, self-absorbed and domineering. the description card that accompanied his packaging describes him as “oily, scheming, and ever-ready to stir up trouble,” and he’s definitely less of her favorite than some others she doesn’t yet “have” (henry and edward, for instance).
but it was diesel she returned home with, and carole and i shook our heads a little and figured what the heck, maybe in play “her” diesel will be sweet and friendly.
ha. since he came home friday evening, diesel has been in continuous “time out,” banished from the other engines and isolated at the bottom of the stairs. in fact, moments ago i reunited him with the other engines; mairin spotted him a few minutes later and said, eyebrows arched: “diesel, you need time out.” and off he went.
okay, so forget that last post. eamon has since decided that the best way to sleep is next to me, or on me, or attached to me in some way. all night long. with wakeful periods every 90 minutes (on the nose) just to remind me he’s there. in case, you know, i forgot.
on the other hand, mairin loves sleeping. and she loves waking up (HI mommy! it’s GOOD MORNING time! the SUN is UP! daddy is at WORK!) especially when, as this morning, she can get ready for a big adventure. boots on, sweater zipped, hood pulled over head, backpack (empty) strapped on, bike helmet buckled: thusly attired, this toddler was ready for her visit to the children’s museum. i can only imagine what she thinks she’s going to do with the bike helmet. and i’m waaaaaay too tired to ask.
for the eternity that is life with two kids under three last two days i have been mentally drafting a post about how unbelievably terrible shannon is. sure he’s a good dad and all. but he’s a terrible, selfish, unhelpful, in-the-way, smelly-man kind of partner. all i’ve been able to think about is how to escape, preferably without anybody noticing.
and then, sleep.
after 6 weeks of sleeping no more than two hours at a time, eamon is returning to his good-baby ways. two nights ago he slept from 8-3; last night, from 8-5. this morning i awoke and the sun was shining and the birds were chirping and the house was perfect and somehow shannon had morphed into a kind, loving, gentle, and considerately (and considerably) fresh-smelling partner.
we had two forced days at home due to weather. (don’t laugh at us, you hardy northerners. this wasn’t our idea of an emergency.) you can laugh at us, though, for being unprepared for mairin. who thought we’d need to get her snow boots? (not me, that’s who.) so on day 1 we improvised with plastic bags and rubber bands. mairin thought this was so great that even though we had boots for her on day two (it wasn’t so much of an emergency that we couldn’t get to the shops across the street from us) she still wanted to wear bags held up by rubber bands. i’m thinking we’ll start a new trend.
