Dawdling

I should be in bed. But I'm dawdling. What else is new?

The babes have entered a hats phase. Boxes, baskets, a plastic molcajete, and various parts of our wardrobe are all strong candidates for being worn as hats. Carmen prefers the over-the-eyes look.

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Whole Foods today, and Madison the Magical Juice Lady was working. She showed the babies a carrot cheer--complete with a shaking booty--and the babes, still groggy from a too-short afternoon nap, just watched, slack-jawed. But when she gave them some fresh carrot-orange juice, they instantly perked up, flapping their arms and squealing, signing juice and more and delighting everyone at the counter. This is what they looked like in the car when we got home. (Poor David was a little tired.)

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Last week David grew into Carmen's Preschoolians, and Carmen grew into a pair of size 23's. Actually, she was a 22, but Preschoolians messed up the order (oops), so I told Carmen she'd just have to make do for a week. She didn't seem to mind, and walked all around the house pointing at her feet and saying "shoes!"
Somebody remind Daddy that he should check and make sure that the babes' pants aren't crooked when he puts them on, eh? Carmen doesn't seem to care, though. She just goes and goes, however she's dressed.

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She is my daughter. Here's an excerpt from an e-mail that I sent to Ashley this week discussing Carmen's dawdling at night:
Sorry we missed you. We were in the throws of dinner (as in, thrown food, not throes, although it is agonizing to pick up rice and beans off the floor, off the table, from the walls, and all the little cracks in the booster seat three times a day . . . so it’s maybe throws for the babies, throes for the parents). And then it took Carmen 1.5 hours to get to bed. She’s the master dawdler. She nurses, she potties . . .

And I put her down.

Then she needs to potty
Then she needs water
Then she needs to potty
And she needs me to read on the potty
The same book
Again
And again
And again

And I put her down
Then she needs to potty
Then she decides her nose is stuffy, and will I please aspirate it?

And I put her down
Then she needs to potty . . .

And it kinds of goes on and on and on like that.

I won’t deny her potty time, because if you gotta go, you gotta go . . . but I suspect she’s really dawdling (I’m sure you’re suspecting the same), and this is kind of weird, because I didn’t think a kid this small would have figured out already how to dawdle? ALTHOUGH she does actually go every time she sits on the potty (although she’ll sit for 10 minutes just for a tinkle, just because she likes sitting there) so, eh, who knows?

But she is a real stinker. That quiet, patient baby is a thing of the past, lemme tell ya. She’s hilarious. They both are.

And this is the schedule I gave her (Ashley's visiting next week):

By 6:30 they’re awake
7:30 they’re eating breakfast after morning boob, brushing teeth, combing hair, and emptying my sock drawer
9:30 they eat a snack (which they sometimes eat in my poor car)
11:15 lunch (more or less . . . they’re usually pretty exhausted unless they’ve had a snooze in the car)
12:00 nap
2:30 wake up
3:00 snack
5:30 Matt home, eat dinner (that I may or may not have cooked . . . June Cleaver I AIN’T!)
7:00 lights out
7:15 brush teeth and Big Red Barn (by the big red barn in the great green field, a little pink pig was learning to squeal . . .)
7:30 babies asleep IN THEORY (ha ha)
8:00 David is konked out by now for sure
8:30 Carmen is maybe konked out, but she’d rather not be

If Carmen's asleep, I should be, too. Good night!