Milkymilk

Puppy Love

Maybe Dignon is not really a puppy anymore, but he does love the baby.  

This video is from last week, when she was doing her shuffle to get around.  This week she is mostly walking.  I hope the dog still loves her this much when she learns to run.

BIG thanks to Skylar for editing the video.

Want

Oh, the grass is always greener.  What was it that was so awful about Los Angeles again?  Wait, I do remember; traffic, fog, no shade trees, Santa Anna winds, summer dirt/dust/crust, the lack of seasons. Ha ha, 'lack of seasons.'  How intolerable it was for it be to be nice out all year long.  What was I thinking?  

It has been in the high teens the last few days.  At this point, that feels remarkably warm.  We ran into a neighborhood friend on the street, outside.  Spring must be coming, it must.  To cope I am having three lady's lunches this week, courtesy of the emergency fund.  This is an emergency, too.  We cannot stay here any longer.  These walls closed in on us long ago.

The good news is that Harper loves to lunch.  

The bad news is that bedtime remains a fiasco.  It is a problem that can only be solved with Yo Gabba Gabba or An Officer and A Gentleman.  What-ch-gonna-do?  It is hard to argue with a screaming irate irrational person who does not speak the same language.  Sometimes, it is easier to just do what she wants.  (Although, she is still not allowed to sleep in the dog bed, no matter how much she wants to.)

I have been drowning my bedtime/winter sorrows in x-large sugar cookies.  It has been working out well.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Jumbeled Mess, Just Eat Dirt

Today our BFF Liz, soon to be Dr. Liz of biology, sent us some info we have long been waiting for.  Eating dirt is good for you.  For real.  The New York Times said so, and they are super smart, like Liz.  Actually, it turns out Harper owes a lot to dirt, her good health, her good digestion, and if we ever see it again, if this cruel winter ever passes, if the snow and crunchy layers of gray ice that have accumulated over of it ever melt, if the sun ever comes out and the Arctic wind retreats, hours of entertainment.

Skylar's work hosted MG Fest over the weekend, so we got to go out on a Saturday night.  You read that right.  We left the house, without the baby, with each other.  It was pretty amazing.  I have to say, Saturday night was even better than I remembered it.  There was free booze, bunches of cookies made by yours truly and fun friends.

The only drawback was that we left the house at 8:00, leaving Harper wailing in her crib, awake an hour past her bedtime and furious.  Hearing your baby cry is never fun.  Leaving her while she was crying turned my stomach up into 15 knots tied by the most studious of boy scouts.  Skylar's cousin, Elizabeth, and her friend were baby sitting.   They were only able to solve the problem with Cheerios in her exersaucer in front of the TV.  And there she fell asleep.  I wish I had seen it.

We are having bed time issues here.  I would say more about it, but I have absolutely no idea what is going on.  Baby does not want to sleep, she would rather cry.  No fun for anyone.  I am trying to write this in between attempts at getting her to sleep.  Skylar is working late, so the baby & my night has gone a little like this:

• Baby screams bloody murder.
• Pick up baby; screaming stops.
• Rock baby and sing 'Wheals on the Bus'; baby sleeps.
• Set baby in crib.  Leave the room.
• Screaming begins again.
• Wait for her to cry herself to sleep.
• Blog.
• Hope She'll at least get more sleepy.
• Wonder if neighbors have called child services yet.
• Pick up baby; repeat cycle.

Anyway.  Harper had some work buddies over on Sunday.  The closet was a big hit.  All three of them piled in there and played with the noisy toys.  Oodles of fun.  We rarely play with other kids on the weekend, and I hope we start doing it more often.  It can be cool to playgroup it up, you know.

I should get her before the neighbors call the police.  Maybe I will just pull out the exersaucer, some Cheerios, and call it a night.  Riddle me this, people:  Why is bed time so tragic at 11 months, when she loved it at 4 weeks until now (with a rough spot or two)?  

Prevent Growth, Bind the Baby

I thought when Harper walked the other day that maybe it was a fluke.  Maybe she would just try it out for fun, and then move (crawl) on to something else.  I was wrong.  I'll be in the kitchen, and she will come WALKING in from the other room.

My baby is becoming a toddler.

Growing up has some advantages.  She will not be as dirty from being on the floor all the time.  She does not cry about everything, and sometimes seemingly nothing at all, all the time like when she was a newborn.  She hand fed her friend snacks yesterday, CUTE.  

Then I saw this:

How can I not want to make a baby binding contraption to keep her this itty bitty!  Look at that BABY!

More and more over the last few months, Harper prefers to fall asleep on her own in her crib.  On the rare occasion she falls asleep in my arms, with her heavy limp head drooling on my chest, I think, 'This is, and will forever be, the. best. moment. of. my. life.'

All babies grow up someday.  Having Harper has made me realize, even though sometimes she may nag and criticize, or do whatever she does that gets under your skin, no body loves you like your mama.  Trust me on this one.  Except for these brownies.  These brownies love you.  

Harper Walking: Now Available on Video