After we spent so many hours (and so much of our wedding money) purchasing just the right black stained furniture and coordinating beige couch, with red and orange accent placed ever so carefully throughout the living space in 2009, all has gone to hell. The new centerpiece of the house is neither muted nor coordinated, subtle nor artistic. It is all shades of primary colors, all shapes under the stars, and lights up when activated.
The Fisher Price Bounce and Spin is hideous, obnoxious, and my favorite part of the living room. Our little prince (who is 10 weeks old, 14.5 pounds, and 25 inches) grins from ear to ear when his chubby thighs spring through the leg holes on the obtrusive device. Too short to really utilize all the jumping delights of the toy, he merely dangles and bobs his head with joy. Out the window with decor and design, in favor of anything that buys us such a smile. Perhaps one day an Hermes Birkin will evoke a similarly pleasant reaction.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The New Normal
Sleeping until 7am, using the gym first thing in the morning, and eating a meal are all a thing of the past. The day now begins at a variety of hours, all dictated by how long my precious 7 week old decides to sleep any given night. This morning for example, he awoke at 5:00 am, a very civilized time. Daycare begins at 8, so that leaves 3 hours to eat, play, dress, and leave the house. Sounds easy, no?
All outfits laid out the night before (he likes to wear collared Ralph Lauren one-sie's and always packs a coordinating bib for the day), and I must resort to things that are easily changed (should some last minute spit up find itself on my shoulder) and conducive to squatting and playing on the floor (in case the little one doesn't allow me 5 minutes to change when we get home).
The actual amount of time I will have to dress in said outfit all depends on how long the dangling owl on the activity mat (thank you Auntie Christine!) will entertain us. (This also is of course assuming that I was able to brush my teeth before hubby left for the day. If not, that eats into my precious 4-6 minutes of prep time). You never knew just how quickly you could get a dress on, brush your hair, and curl your eyelashes than when you begin to hear the first rumblings of what, if left unattended, will turn into a lung warming cry. Luckily, the owl was particularly fascinating this morning and I was even able to make a pony tail with my now shoulder length hair.
In the elevator going to the garage, an older woman remarked to her friend how early it was to be leaving the house this morning, at the ripe hour of 7:55. It felt like high noon to me.
All outfits laid out the night before (he likes to wear collared Ralph Lauren one-sie's and always packs a coordinating bib for the day), and I must resort to things that are easily changed (should some last minute spit up find itself on my shoulder) and conducive to squatting and playing on the floor (in case the little one doesn't allow me 5 minutes to change when we get home).
The actual amount of time I will have to dress in said outfit all depends on how long the dangling owl on the activity mat (thank you Auntie Christine!) will entertain us. (This also is of course assuming that I was able to brush my teeth before hubby left for the day. If not, that eats into my precious 4-6 minutes of prep time). You never knew just how quickly you could get a dress on, brush your hair, and curl your eyelashes than when you begin to hear the first rumblings of what, if left unattended, will turn into a lung warming cry. Luckily, the owl was particularly fascinating this morning and I was even able to make a pony tail with my now shoulder length hair.
In the elevator going to the garage, an older woman remarked to her friend how early it was to be leaving the house this morning, at the ripe hour of 7:55. It felt like high noon to me.
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