Early one morning, The Grandchild was delivered to my door with foldup crib, stroller, and baby bag. To celebrate, I made blueberry pancakes, because she loves blueberries. I loaded her into the high-chair. But alas, she was not interested in the pancakes. She made this clear by averting her head and staring over her shoulder until hated proffered food was removed from her immediate vicinity. Other choices were placed before her. She accepted several spoons of peanut butter (smooth, no sodium, no anything except peanuts). PB is excellent for getting on and staying on small spoons, and she is working on that. Additionally, the blueberries which were roaming free and not inside pancakes were readily eaten.
After breakfast lost its luster, I unloaded her from the high chair, and we moved outside into the sun. Holding hands (her hand, my finger), we took a Walk around the yard and determined that the grass was still there. All the bricks were in order. The dog next-door barked. The Zombie Walk (side-to-side Frankenstein waddle of small legs just learning the art) was practiced on turf, cement blocks, ashphalt drive, and even/uneven bricks. The exciting garden hose filled the blue plastic pool with exciting water.
Before we could get to Bubble-Blowing 101, though, it was NapTime. Back into the house, preceded by one of the two cats (the brave one). A tall sippy-cup of milk, a book with pictures, and a disagreement about being left alone ensued. Nap time came hard, but it came. During the lull, I disposed of dirty diapers, cleaned up bottles and dishes and toys, made real mashed potatoes, and fell onto the sofa. I haven't slung a growing baby in a few decades, and my body reminds me of this.
She woke up in due time. I picked her up and cuddled her to ease wake-up. She weighs around 22 lbs. now, I think, but its hard not to pick her up and hold her at any opportunity. We assembled a selection of healthy food and ate outside under the pergola.
Food is tremendous fun with babies. Its like that old television commercial where the 2 little boys say, "Lets give it to Mikey! Mikey will eat it!" Babies will try most things you offer them, and make their preferences clear. But every food in the world is a new adventure. The hand-crafted potatoes were a bust on this day. Little frozen peas were popular--they, like blueberries, are little balls, which must have something to do with it. The no-sodium garbanzo beans--also ball-shaped--were not even fully inserted into mouth before being ignored. Protein source was, again, peanut butter. I'll have to try her on tofu next time. To signal the end of lunch, she began to squash peas and smear PB around on things.
Post-lunch, we tossed stones in the swimming pool. The brave cat beguiled her. The less brave cat jumped over the fence. After our fill of stone-tossing, we took a trip to Home Depot (which all babies adore), and checked out hardware and plants. While observing the world from her stroller, she polished off 2/3 of a little box of raisins. She likes the raisins because of the little box, I think, as much as their gummy tiny-ness. Then it was home again, giving me the opp to load and unload her from her car seat again (did I mention loading and unloading her stroller?) (coming and going?).
Diaper-change time. I let her run around butt-naked while I emptied poo into the toilet and set-up the travel crib. The nice cool breeze on little bums has to feel good when stuck in wet paper all day. Before I could think "Puddle," though, she had Zombie-Walked into the living room and watered the little rug in front of her toy drawers. The act of diddling didn't visibly impress her; she continued to check out Mr. Slinky in the middle drawer without missing a beat. I mopped up and decided she could still run around butt-naked while I ran her bath, since she was emptied out.
She wasn't emptied out. This time, though, she noticed what she was doing. I like to think I assisted in concept formation, here: wet stuff falls between legs and feels wetter than when wearing diaper. I cleaned it up again, off the bare wood floor since the rug was in the laundry now. When I tossed the cleanup stuff and came back to insert half-naked baby in bath, said half-naked baby had done another little tinkle, and seemed very interested in this one. I scooped her up and into the tub for a rinse, not really caring if she tinkled again at this point. Neither of us would notice since the tinkle part was already submerged.
We got clean and settled in for a read and a good tall milk. She rubbed her eyes and did not want to be put down on the floor to wander around, always a sure sign of Tired Baby. I let her flip the remote for the television for a bit, and when that lost its shine I carried her into the Death Dungeon ( a.k.a. Room with Crib). She immediately recognized the danger and wailed, adding huge and plentiful tears. Grandma, however, was pretty darned tired at this point, and gently laid her in the incarceration facility with a blanket and a Wolfie, and tiptoed out the door so the floor creaks wouldn't be heard over the loud and heartbreaking screams.
Without much shame, I flung myself on the sofa and waited for the cries of a soul in purgatory to abate. Then I checked and made sure she hadn't suffocated under the blanket. Then I gathered as many of her scattered and essential possessions as I could into easily transported bundles. After supper, a guitar practice session was slated for me, so I loaded guitar, music bag, toy bag and food bag into the car.
Did I mention I'm old?
I showered quickly, and finished just as a little head popped over the rail of the crib, sleepy but ready to assert self-will. Then I lifted an awake but foggy baby into my arms, and reassured her that the world was still good, the kitties were still nearby. For supper, the favorite was, again, spoonfuls of organic, no-sodium PB, so you know that is really healthy stuff and I just handed over a big glob for her to put her spoon in, with the rest of the blueberries on the side. She thoughtfully chewed and sucked on several spoons of PB. I orchestrated final car-loading arrangements, including her. She is well-versed in being loaded and unloaded into her car seat, and actually helps by reaching up, down, twisting. Baby Car Seat Loading is my workout for lower back and arm extension.
Fully loaded and with the remaining raisins in hand, we drove off leaving the cats behind. We disembarked at a dark, interior, studio-type setting, where four noisy strangers were busy playing guitar, mandolin, percussion, and voice. Loudly. She was mesmerized for almost an hour, in her stroller, hitting the apple juice heavily while absorbing the scene. But then her quintessentially Good Baby personality got restless, and I brought her onstage with us. She stood clinging to my leg for a while, I held her for a while, and she sorted guitar picks and thumb picks and finger picks in a little tin box for a while. Then she played the tambourine and danced and got a little braver, and then it was finally time to go.
Grandma loaded guitar, baby, stroller, music, and self back into trunk and car. I drove slowly into the sunset, took her home, and unloaded most of the above. I handed the prize baby over to Daddy, flopped into my car, drove home and unloaded myself and remaining articles. I felt about a hundred years old, and vowed to work out between baby sitting sessions.
It was a good day.