I actually left the house with all my kids! I know I'm kind of a recluse and a hermit anyway, but this whole surgery on my hand thing has made me even more so. I hadn't really thought this whole recovery process through. The problem has been, with extremely limited use of my left hand, I haven't been able to pull the release on the carseat base, lift the stroller out of the car, or push the stroller if I've managed to complete the previous tasks. And it's been taking a toll on Addie and Chloe. Stir. Crazy. And I don't even want to talk about the grapefruits on the counter that I would like to eat, but can't because this bandage stays on until Monday, and I don't want to think about the havoc eating a grapefruit would wreak on it.
If I'd known it would finally stop the yelling, I would happily have stuck Maggie in her exersaucer all by herself in the other room hours ago.
And by yelling, I mean YELLING. Not crying, yelling her indignation to me at full volume. She also kind of yells when she laughs. It's more of a bark than a chuckle. And I did chuckle when, after I started nursing her this morning, she latched on for a second, then let go to look at me and laugh/bark joyously, loudly, and then got back to business.
Chloe just hurt herself and started crying. While I initially felt badly for her, I stopped when she started experimenting with new and interesting ways to wail. I know the difference between real and fake. Take note, Maggie.
Chloe did make my day earlier when, as I struggled to get the stroller out of the car, she leaned over the seat and said, "Mom, when I grow up, I want to be just like you." That alone can erase years of high school self esteem damage.
I'm mentioned recently on facebook and to those around me that I will maim the next person who gives my children purses. They have about 21,378 which they fill with small objects from their room, then tote around the house and dump randomly. The favorite place is the Dardanelles between the ottoman and the couch, which is very dangerous on the feet. It makes me grateful that my children have no legos, cause I dare you to find something worse to step on. After I finished their Halloween costumes this year, I made them coordinating candy bags because yes, I am that crazy. And I forgot that a treat bag serves a similar purpose to a purse. They immediately grabbed their treat bags, filled them will small toys, and began their day's work. So, in conclusion, if you really feel the need to purchase a purse or small bag for my children, please consider me instead. I could use a new handbag that is not a diaper bag.
Maggie is almost 4 months old. This means next week I could start her on cereal. I think she's ready. I think getting her eating from a source other than me would be incredibly freeing. Bracken thinks he's not ready for another child with stinky poop, and I can understand that (Here's where I mention how incredibly toxic Addie's diapers are, and how sometimes Maggie's smell really good to me.). However, I also think Bracken should have thought of that when he was refusing to warm ice cold milk for a 4 week old, telling me she needed to toughen up, thus totally turning her off of the concept of a bottle.
Maggie has a patch on her cheek that is gathering black lint from my sweater, confirming my suspicions that part of what was making her happy in the other room was Addie's sucker.
And in conclusion,
Yes, she's asleep. Yes, I just let her eat all that candy. Yes, I just reread "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret?" In case you're wondering, I also recently reread the Little House books. Maybe it's the pain from her recent injury making her sleepy. I've fallen asleep before 8 every night this week.