|Baby W has promised to enter|
a 12-step program in 2011.
Actually Baby W is just about perfect and so is Stella. This reminds me of when I was pregnant with Baby #1, when we decided to undertake a huge house construction project. Apparently the significant financial and emotional stress that comes along with having a baby just wasn't enough and we needed more, more, more! David was responsible for managing the construction and I was responsible for managing growing the baby, and after our respective projects were completed, I enjoyed pointing out to him that there weren't any tussles about what was and wasn't in the contract with MY PROJECT. Yes, my project came in late and I will admit it was significantly over budget, but all the parts worked perfectly, unlike the new overhead light in the bathroom which is definitely not centered.
In the last days of my pregnancy with Stella, our bathroom was torn up and accessible only by going up a flight of partially finished stairs. I didn't feel it was safe for me to be going up and down the stairs for my multiple middle of the night bathroom trips, so I set up a five gallon bucket in our bedroom that I emptied each morning. (If I ever inadvertently blow you off or hurt your feelings, you can get revenge by picturing me peeing in a white bucket at 9+ plus months pregnant.) But of course when labor started I didn't get a chance to empty the bucket, and the birth was complicated which meant David didn't return home for several days. As a result, we brought our new baby home to a house reeking to the rafters of urine. To this day, David and I still have construction-related trauma to the point where any small house project sets off our PTSD. Even changing a light bulb brings on the shakes and bad flashbacks.
|Squeezing the bejesus out of|
Baby W helps teach Stella important
hand-eye coordination skills.
Back to the New Year. To celebrate, I engaged in activities that have been handed down by generations of my generic white-people ethnic group: I stayed home and fed mashed turnips to the baby and most definitely did not stay up to midnight. I explained the idea of a resolution to Stella -- something you want to improve about yourself, or do better, or maybe a new experience you want to try out -- and asked if she had any resolutions, barely refraining from suggesting that she resolve to stop treating Walter like one of those silicon toys that you squeeze to make the eyeballs pop out on springs. She said her resolution in 2011 was "to wiggle her finger." Ah, but a man's reach must exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?
In 2011, my resolutions are to keep raising two beautiful, loving children; to continue to learn and improve at my job; and to keep valuing David as a partner and co-parent in addition to being the only person in the household who can reach the very top cabinets in the kitchen. (Seriously, why would you build kitchen cabinets seven feet off the ground? Perhaps in the 1950s kitchens were ruled by a race of giganto Amazon women lost to human history, except through the occasional fossilized apron identified through carbon-dating.) Those resolutions, while worthy, all involve continuing doing what I did in 2010. So here's something new for 2011: this is the year I resolve to get the pee smell out of the bedroom.