Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Poor Genevieve: she's at that stage where she's compelled to practice her almost-there crawling skills when you put her down for nap or bed, rather than gamely staying on her back, where you put her, and closing her eyes to go to sleep. Instead she groans and grouses and complains, and you hear her efforts over the monitor or through the door: the huffing and puffing, the snorty snuffling, the mashing of the face into the Silky in frustration. If you could peek in, you'd see her turning herself 180 degrees on her stomach and ending up with her blanket in a knot by her shoulders, or twisted around her waist. You'd see her backing herself into the end of the porta-crib, and then scrabbling her feet in fury against the mesh that holds her in place. You'd see her eventually fall asleep, cover-less, on her tummy, using her PJ Bear for a pillow. Or with a corner of her blankie clutched in one hand and pressed to her lips. You'd see a baby who did not drift off to sleep, but who succumbed to her lot in life, reluctantly. You'd have to sneak in on tiptoe to cover her up so she didn't get too cold. You'd wait until she woke up and yelled for you indignantly as if no time had passed, picking up where she left off. You'd go in and she'd be up on all fours, unsure of what to do next but convinced that what she wanted to do next was not what she actually ended up doing. You'd feel sorry for her; you'd pick her up and say, "Oh, poor babykins, poor frustrated baby-pie." You'd kiss her neck. You'd put her down somewhere to play and within minutes she'd be, somehow, over by the fireplace trying to pull the metal strip off the bottom, or eyeing the tax folders on the bottom shelf of the bookcase by the desk, or, if you were outside on the patio, she'd be leaning over to grab a rock out of the flower bed and furtively putting it to her mouth. You'd be realizing, oh, we're at THAT point now, okay. And you'd be realizing that keeping one mobile baby out of the cat dish and away from the trash can was a heck of a lot easier than keeping a new baby out of the cat dish and away from the trash can when you're busy paying attention to that first baby, who is no longer a baby.
Posted by Shannon at 8:58 AM