Hi!
Hello little blog friends. You have been sorely neglected, I know. I started watching TV on DVD in my "spare" time, so writing has been on the back burner. In fact, you are enjoying my presence tonight because of an unlikely coincidence--I just finished season two of the show I've been watching and don't want to start the next one until Monday, and, though I planned to have all of my laundry done by 11:00 tonight, one of the four dryers I was using didn't work and I had to put the soggy load in for another spin. So here I am with 30 minutes to kill.
My daughter Amy is getting to be quite grown up. She has started to look at the pictures in books if the pages are turned fairly rapidly (and constantly), and she loves to watch the faces of people who are talking to her. She enjoys the latter activity so much that she often cries if there is no face to observe. By way of illustration, I would like to share with you our Return from Nogales Adventure (yes, it was that big). We left Grandma and Grandpa Giles' house around 7:45, and five minutes later Baby Amy was screaming so loudly that Brett and I could only communicate when she paused to breathe. We finally managed to decide to pull over in a grocery store parking lot so I could feed Amy like I should have done at the Giles' house (if hearing about emergency feeding is not your cup of tea, please know that it is not mine either).
After little Amy was satisfied, we were back on the road, but by the time we made it from the grocery store to the freeway, the volume of her cries was, if possible, even louder than before we had stopped. I tried to talk to her, sing to her, and give her her pacifier (can't they make a safe front-facing infant seat?), but to no avail. After ten minutes (primarily because my arm was going numb), I decided I would just out-wait her. Ten minutes later I had a headache and begged Brett to pull over again-- it must have been meant to be because a rest area instantly appeared. I got out of the passenger's seat, marched to the rear door, and plopped myself down next to my sobbing bundle of joy. I switched the rear light to "on" and shut the door. Almost as soon as I started talking to Amy and explaining why we had stopped and what I would require to continue moving toward home (a cessation of her vocal assault), she fell silent, her bright eyes focused on my face.
We had a pretty nice trip after that--though I stayed in the back and the rear light was on the whole way (does anyone know if that's really illegal or dangerous?). I started with a story about a kid named Chad and his adventures in the park when he wandered away from his mom (there was a treasure "chess," a bully with French fries feeding some pigeons, a dog he found and named "Dirt," and "Frog Girl"--the alleged owner of said Dirt), and then I told her one of my versions of the three little pigs (the one where I give the weight and personalities of each of the pigs and comment on the unbelievability of the wolf's escape from the chimney). The storytelling was followed by singing every song I could remember from my time working day care and then by singing "I'm tired of singing baby songs" to the tune of the songs I had just sung--incidentally I just realized that that line would fit perfectly into "Camptown Races," a song I failed to sing tonight. Finally we pulled into our parking lot, and I carried my happy baby home.
So do they have car night lights? Human face projectors? I guess I should just be grateful that I have a captive audience. I do love telling stories--especially when I can say whatever I want (within reason) because Amy can't understand me yet. I also love Amy. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I had a really great time tonight (even though I was incredibly car sick), and I can't wait to see what happens next in the adventures of Chad and Frog Girl.
Hello little blog friends. You have been sorely neglected, I know. I started watching TV on DVD in my "spare" time, so writing has been on the back burner. In fact, you are enjoying my presence tonight because of an unlikely coincidence--I just finished season two of the show I've been watching and don't want to start the next one until Monday, and, though I planned to have all of my laundry done by 11:00 tonight, one of the four dryers I was using didn't work and I had to put the soggy load in for another spin. So here I am with 30 minutes to kill.
My daughter Amy is getting to be quite grown up. She has started to look at the pictures in books if the pages are turned fairly rapidly (and constantly), and she loves to watch the faces of people who are talking to her. She enjoys the latter activity so much that she often cries if there is no face to observe. By way of illustration, I would like to share with you our Return from Nogales Adventure (yes, it was that big). We left Grandma and Grandpa Giles' house around 7:45, and five minutes later Baby Amy was screaming so loudly that Brett and I could only communicate when she paused to breathe. We finally managed to decide to pull over in a grocery store parking lot so I could feed Amy like I should have done at the Giles' house (if hearing about emergency feeding is not your cup of tea, please know that it is not mine either).
After little Amy was satisfied, we were back on the road, but by the time we made it from the grocery store to the freeway, the volume of her cries was, if possible, even louder than before we had stopped. I tried to talk to her, sing to her, and give her her pacifier (can't they make a safe front-facing infant seat?), but to no avail. After ten minutes (primarily because my arm was going numb), I decided I would just out-wait her. Ten minutes later I had a headache and begged Brett to pull over again-- it must have been meant to be because a rest area instantly appeared. I got out of the passenger's seat, marched to the rear door, and plopped myself down next to my sobbing bundle of joy. I switched the rear light to "on" and shut the door. Almost as soon as I started talking to Amy and explaining why we had stopped and what I would require to continue moving toward home (a cessation of her vocal assault), she fell silent, her bright eyes focused on my face.
We had a pretty nice trip after that--though I stayed in the back and the rear light was on the whole way (does anyone know if that's really illegal or dangerous?). I started with a story about a kid named Chad and his adventures in the park when he wandered away from his mom (there was a treasure "chess," a bully with French fries feeding some pigeons, a dog he found and named "Dirt," and "Frog Girl"--the alleged owner of said Dirt), and then I told her one of my versions of the three little pigs (the one where I give the weight and personalities of each of the pigs and comment on the unbelievability of the wolf's escape from the chimney). The storytelling was followed by singing every song I could remember from my time working day care and then by singing "I'm tired of singing baby songs" to the tune of the songs I had just sung--incidentally I just realized that that line would fit perfectly into "Camptown Races," a song I failed to sing tonight. Finally we pulled into our parking lot, and I carried my happy baby home.
So do they have car night lights? Human face projectors? I guess I should just be grateful that I have a captive audience. I do love telling stories--especially when I can say whatever I want (within reason) because Amy can't understand me yet. I also love Amy. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I had a really great time tonight (even though I was incredibly car sick), and I can't wait to see what happens next in the adventures of Chad and Frog Girl.
I sat in the back seat of our car until Ellie was almost 1- and I still do if it's a longer trip. We have wonderful chaufer husbands :-)
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