Wearing a t-shirt, blue jeans, & sweet tea

It’s been a hectic day of relaxing at home, as can be expected with a crawling baby I guess. He wakes up so chipper and happy in the morning. His eyes just sparkle as I squeeze his little chubby cheek and I sit there staring at him, feeling so lucky to have such a sweet baby, and I know I am, but by the end of the day, I’m beat.
The faster he can move, the slower I feel. I thought about making him a Turtle for Halloween because it would be cute to see him crawling around under a turtle shell, but it’s just not fitting for him. That baby got speed. He is especially fast when you are sitting and holding him at the dinner table. He watches, watches, waits, waits….and then, he strikes! Grandpa knows all about that. Grandpa Calame got to wear his iced tea this Friday while he held Tucker. I feel like we moms with babies wear half of our food on a regular basis.
My daughter is getting to that age where she likes to be fashionable, and she likes me to be fashionable too, so she sometimes wants to pick out my outfits. She’s like, “Mom what are you wearing tomorrow?” and I’ m like “I don’t know, what are we having for dinner?….I’ll probably wear a T-shirt, blue jeans, hamburger helper, and sweet tea!”
He is also in the “oral exploration” stage, where every spec of dirt, every crumb, every boot, every shoelace—looks appealing. When the Cookie Monster came on TV, it sort of made me think of my baby Tucker, except he’s more like the Shoe Monster. Every time I sit down, he gets up on his hands and knees and hauls butt for the shoes that always seem to collect by the front door—no matter how hard I try to keep them out of sight. He crawls so fast and hard he starts grunting or panting to get to those shoes. Could he go after anything more disgusting to try to chew on?
Sometimes I can use his “oral exploration” to my advantage though, as he follows me around the house. When I need to stop and do the dishes or the laundry or go to the bathroom, he’s usually not far behind me, so I just coyly “drop” some kind of suitable, but odd, baby proof item for him to chew on. As long as he doesn’t know it was meant for him, he can’t wait to get his hands on it. It’s always the strange things that occupy his attention the best. Grandma was not joking about baby’s love for pots, pans or plastic cups. That keeps him from scouring the floors for the one spec of dirt I missed. I feel like I’ve never swept and mopped so much in my life.
The baby is also experimenting and discovering all of the high-pitched screams mankind can make. He is testing the limits I’m telling you, and he likes to do it while he’s on my lap smiling and bouncing just inches from my poor, old ears. He’s so happy and proud about all the new sounds he can make it’s hard to discourage him though.
Meanwhile, my other baby (big sissy), is across the room doing some very painful looking splits, yelling “Look at me mom! Mom, watch this one!” I cring at the thought of those splits, and I’m cringing at the shriek of Tucker’s screaming, and I’m trying to smile through it all. After all, it is quality time. I just wish all the quality time moments didn’t all have to happen like in the same second.
After doing the splits, my daughter jumped up and excitedly started asking me to “guess” what day of the week her birthday is this year. It’s like 7 months away, and she knows what exact day it is already. “Guess Mom! I’ll give you a hint—it’s either Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday!” she said. I’ll save you the trouble–It’s Saturday. “It’s the perfect day!” she shrieks in unison with the baby, after she got tired of my bad guesses.
Before I knew it, both kids were deeply involved in another laughing game….A’Dell finds something he thinks is funny and then she does it over and over and over again, much to the baby’s enjoyment. He laughs his heart out each and every time. Tonight it was her comically and dramatically yelling “Oooooh Baby!” that set him off to chuckling. It stopped him from crying, but the sound of “Ooooh Baby! Ooooh Baby! Oooooh Baby!” was soon ringing in my ears. Last week, it was the sound of the fly swatter. I made the mistake of telling her to swat flies, and when she discovered it set the baby to laughing, she swatted, swatted, and she swatted. She swatted everything from the floor up to the ceiling fan.
And then by the end of the night, I take him back to the nursery start rocking him to sleep; he cuddles up against me and I feel so lucky and blessed all over again, trying to remember every sweet little moment…minus the way the iced tea feels when it’s thrown all over you!