I'm itching to write today, but I keep coming up empty. I peeked at the dictionary, to find a word that caught my eye. And nothing really grabbed me and reeled me in...
My days are hardly interesting, or exciting. This is a typical weekday here:
Savannah and I get up. I make coffee and get her cereal and formula ready. I go get her out of bed. I change her diaper, and blow raspberries on her little tummy. We go sit down at the table. I put her big-ass bib on her. I feed her cereal. She intermittently takes a spoonful and then shoves most of her hand in her mouth, sucking her fingers until she feels like taking the next spoonful. We finish the cereal eventually. I get two wet paper towels, and try to get as much of the cereal from between her fingers and off her face and head.
I pick her up. We take the bottle and my coffee and sit down on the couch. I put on her other smaller bib. I turn on the tv. I offer her the bottle, and she smacks it out of my hands and across the room. I pick up the bottle, and try again. She scrunches up her face, and starts swinging her arms around, so we take a break on the bottle.
I turn up Jerry Springer. She whines and occasionally smacks me in the face. I tell her, 'I know they need to come up with different themes for the show... We've already seen, Transvestite Prostitutes 2 other times this week'. I channel surf while Savannah tries to grab my coffee cup off of the table. We finally settle on some movie I've seen a thousand times now, on HBO Plus, like Titanic. I cheer (again) as Leonardo Di Caprio dies. Savannah peers up at me and grins. I'm convinced that the first time she'll clap herself is while we are watching Rose peel Jack's frozen fingers off of that door/raft thing. Eventually, she drinks most of her bottle.
I put Savannah on the floor and go fill up my coffee. She rolls from one end of the living room, to the other, and then gets stuck underneath the chair. I free her, and she decides she'd rather push every button on the stereo, to no avail. I sit on the couch, and she starts to cry a bit.
I take a deep breath, and I can smell that she needs her diaper changed from all the way over on the couch. She's become much more fragrant, since she's been eating food. So, I pick her up, and we go change her diaper. I put a clean outfit on her, and we come into my bedroom for a while.
I check my email, while Savannah goes through all the toys we have piled up in our room next to the computer desk. She makes sure she gets all of them out of the way, as she makes a beeline for the telephone cord that hangs down just low enough for her to reach it. I tell her, no wires for babies. And I put her back with her toys. This repeats about 3 or 4 times until it's time for her morning nap.
She naps for an hour or so and I usually, play on the computer or try to have something to eat or clean.
When she wakes up, it's usually when I'm in the middle of doing something... especially cleaning. So, I never actually get to finish any thing much at one time, anymore.
We play. We eat lunch, with the same routine as breakfast time. We channel surf, and I dance around and sing for her, while she laughs. She swings, and tries to chew on her seatbelt.
After a while, she starts to get tired. And so she goes down for her afternoon nap. I'm starting to get a bit sleepy by now, so I sit down at the computer. Sometimes, I start playing Mahjongg, or I start a journal entry that never gets finished. Sometimes, I look for a job, or chat on ICQ. And when I'm really in the mid-afternoon sleepy mode, and get ready to lie down in bed. That is the precise moment Savannah knows to wake up, and start fussing about being in her crib.
I sigh and then we do dinner, and play and swing and dance and sing... Until Daddy gets home. And then we take turns with getting grumpy-baby-who-won't- sleep-again-until-bedtime, Ms. Savannah. Daddy usually feeds her nighttime bottle, and sometimes we read to her, or have her stuffed animals kiss her good night. And then she finally goes to bed.
And then, by the time I get dinner cleaned up... and other things I wanted to do finished, it's time to be going to bed again. Wallace usually passes out before we even make it to bed.
And I go to bed, thinking about stuff I should have done today, but didn't. Stuff I think I want to do tomorrow, but probably won't. And I think about how wonderful it will be tomorrow, to be with my beautiful baby girl. I wonder if she might start to crawl tomorrow, or say 'mama' or be able to get up so she can sit.
. . . . .
I need to get out more though, too. Or I'll be left with nothing to write about. Not all the fun, exciting or funny stuff just comes here to me. I have to go out and find it.
I'm hoping to go out the the Dogwood Festival at Piedmont Park this weekend. A good healthy dose of festival-goers in the city might inspire something to write about... Or, maybe we'll stay home and do nothing, but all be together.