As of 12:35

Baby: 13 (he had a nap)
Mom: 3
Polish Pottery: -2

One more Polish Pottery down... boo.

Here was my Facebook status earlier (during the time the baby was accumulating such a commanding lead):

"Dear Pyrex Lawyers: You know how it says "not for lab or stovetop use" on your glass measuring cups? I think you may need to amend it to read "not for lab or stovetop use--even if the stovetop is on low and you are just trying to melt some butter." Thank you."

Apparently, it is a good thing I don't have a lab.

Note to self: In the heroic efforts to keep up with the baby and his ways, exploding pyrex and melted butter all over the stove is a hindrance. One cannot create messes bigger than the baby's, and expect to stay sane.

As of 9:59 a.m.

Baby: 10
Mom: 1 1/2

(people are allowed half points in this game. Even quarter points and eighth points, when one is having a particularly bad day)

As of 9:41 a.m.

Baby: 5
Mom: 1

Uhhhh...

Make that

Baby: 6
Mom: 1

MicroPAIN?

You know what those Microplane graters are really good at grating? A person's thumb. Don't tell my family that in addition to freshly grated ginger in their butternut squash soup, they are also getting, as a bonus, a bit of skin. But no blood! I moved my thumb away before it dripped.

The Score so far Today:


Baby: 7
Mom: 3

The explanation:

I have a baby who is very happy and self-entertaining. He doesn't have to be held all the time (nor does he WANT to be), he doesn't whine and follow me around, unless he is hungry or tired, and he doesn't expect me to sit on the floor and play with him all day (though he does like to play with me, so we do that quite a bit anyway).

On the surface, the situation looks like this: "oh, good! I don't have to hold or entertain the baby all day, so I can get some of the other necessities done, you know, like blogging." But upon closer inspection, I find that having a self-entertaining baby actually creates chaos (even as I type, I can hear some going on in the other room...just a minute...be right back. Good news--it's ok, he's just pulling the door with hangers on it back and forth, causing loud noises). While I am "getting things done," so is the baby. And what he finds entertaining, I find less so. So what actually happens around here, is a delicate balance of me doing my work, while at the same time running damage control on his.

For example, I will put in a load of laundry, while George pulls all the toilet paper off the roll, and the tissues out of the box. Did I mention that he usually gets two or three things done, to my getting one thing done? ...or my not getting one thing done...

Anyway, so then I have to stop my work to try to pick up his messes, while he goes into the other room to throw silverware and Polish pottery on the ground. Did I mention that Polish pottery, while strong, is not unbreakable if it is being hucked to the ground with full force?

I then have to leave the current clean-up job, to sweep up Polish pottery (because it is dangerous to have a baby crawling around in shards), and kick myself for forgetting to close the dishwasher AGAIN. Meanwhile he opens a drawer to empty it's contents onto the ground, and then moves into the hall to pull the night lights out of the sockets. Yes, we have put socket protectors in the sockets that didn't have night-lights in them. Apparently, we will no longer be able to have night lights in sockets that he can reach.

Have you noticed that I have yet to get back to my work?

Basically, I have decided that my goal is to "break even" by the end of the day. I like to call it a "tie" or "draw." This means that I get all of his messes put away, as well as the messes I make as I start work (laundry, dishes, projects I've been roped into for the kids' classes), but then don't get back to. In other words to get the house to look the way it started the day. Nothing really accomplished, but nothing completely destroyed either.

If at the end of the day, I give up and go to bed with messes all around me, I "lose."

If at the end of the day, I get all the messes cleaned up, and as a bonus, accomplish a portion of other work, I "win."

Hmmm. As I just read back over what I wrote, it occurs to me that I don't like framing things this way. In fact, I feel ashamed that I was even thinking that way (in fact, I considered going back and changing what I wrote, so that people would not think negatively of me. But I'm going to leave it. Seeing it in black and white helped me learn something). I guess sometimes I get tired and frustrated at the lack of what I think should be accomplished, when really, no matter what happens, I WIN EVERY TIME! Seriously. This baby is the happiest, funniest, most curious, loving (if not slightly dangerous in his expression--see post below), laughing-est, most entertaining (though messiest) baby I've seen in awhile! I LOVE LOVE LOVE him, and am so grateful to have him here with me, and I really wouldn't have it any other way. He is, after all, a miracle in my life. For many reasons. (Ed. note: my obsession with my baby is not meant to imply that all of you out there with babies don't have the "happiest, funniest, etc." babies at your house... lol! )

So, I may post, from time to time, the "score" around here, but keep in mind that we are both WINNING!

I have multiple photos of his "work." Here are a couple. I'll have to post more later, because he is asleep, and I have to finish sewing together a quilt top for Ted's class. As long as he is asleep, he won't crawl through the fabric on the floor and throw my pattern all over...cute, darling, baby!

Why is it, that when a baby sees a drawer like this, he fights his way to the bottom...

to pull out solely the dangerous, dagger-like objects, and not anything else?

The score now:

Baby: 10
Mom: 4 (I wrote a post)

I still WIN!

Infestation?

I currently have bites all over my shoulders. Bedbugs? Mosquitoes?

Nope. George bites! Ow.

Me, trying to figure out what the awful stench was that lingered in certain rooms--specifically, rooms the 9 year old boy had been in--a stench that got worse in close proximity to him: "son, what is that smell--is it your socks?"

Boy, with a big smile on his face: "yep!"

Me: "Buddy, you need to go change your socks!"

And then, realization dawned, because there was no way that smell could come from one day of wear...

Me: "dude, are those the same socks you wore yesterday?!?!?"

Boy, with the same big smile: "yep! And the day before that!"

Yes, three days in the same socks seemed to match what I was smelling.

I told him to go wash his feet in soapy water, and then put on CLEAN socks. And I thought long and hard about whether I should have him just throw the nasty socks away...

I love boys. It's all about convenience with them.