Saturday, January 23, 2010

Home With Babby When Sick Sucks (and a Fingerfood Update)

Being home with baby and attempting to work is one thing, being home with baby when one is feeling ill is quite another. It's hard enough to get in a few words of original and captivating copy about something that's not all that interesting when there is a tiny human being yanking on your trouser leg like a mini-boss from hell. Trying to do the same exact thing while lightheaded and with a burning, raw throat is just awful. That was me on Friday, home with Paloma, suffering from a nasty bug, trying to do just a little bit of work, and counting down the minutes until the BabbyDaddy was done for the day.

Man, those cheeks are getting chubby

At least Paloma chose that day to be sweet and full of smiles, and quite willing to play by herself while I sat staring into space thinking about all the things that weren't getting done. It could have been a day of her wanting desperately to be held, with my out of necessity having to keep her at arm's length to try to maintain our awesome record of her having never been sick. Of course, now that I've written those words she's naturally going to come down with a superlative cold as soon as the BabbyDaddy leaves for work on Monday and babyfriends are around so she can ruin their little moods as well as mine. Ack.

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Or not... hmm? Like I said, working from home with an almost-one-year-old is difficult enough, which the BabbyDaddy found out last week when he stayed home so I could go to the dentist and avoid having to pay out the nose for another missed appointment. When I came home from having my mouth scraped raw by a truly thorough hygienist, he handed Paloma over and did not come up from the the DaddyCave until he'd answered something like 100 customer service emails that a clingy little monkey preventing his addressing in my absence. Welcome to my world, honey! And you wondered why my big evening complaint is not having gotten enough work done.

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In other news, evening mealtimes, which we previously marked by annoyed and reluctant feedings have been replaced by self-feeding sessions of dubious effectiveness, at least where the intake of nutrition is concerned. Assuming Paloma is getting enough to eat throughout the day, the dinner hour the perfect time to let her alternate between putting cubes of cheese into her mouth and dropping them on the floor, where Moya the Hutt gobbles them up. Tonight's menu included: peas, corn, string cheese, and some fancy French cheese that I think tastes like yuck. Paloma, however, likes it fine.

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