Not good

48 hours after returning to Lalaland I just told my husband I may not come visit in December. Very tired and grumpy. Trying to finish something with a deadline of today while the fusspot alternates between screaming and banging the computer.

I am tired and jetlagged and a bit grumpy

but still. Any ideas on age-appropriate discipline for a 9-month old? My plan had been to go with a firm "No" (note the capital n) and otherwise ignore the offending behavior (to date, exclusively the deliberate and repeated removal of the fusspot's diaper by said fusspot) except that I made my friend's toddler almost cry with said technique. And the fusspot tends to just ignore it.

Any ideas? Anything that works? She's way too young for a timeout (which I do like in moderation) or any type of reward/treat, but I do want to let her know that I don't like it when she takes her diaper off.

Speaking of things I'd like, a long nap would be lovely. But I have way too much work to do tonight. And we have no food in the house at all so I need to go grocery shopping in the morning. And no fresh pumped milk, so I need to pump 10-15 oz. for daycare tomorrow. Fun!

And while we're on developmental stuff (and since my brain is clearly friend with 1 hours sleep and 12 hours in public in the past 24 hours), my baby has impressive receptive language skills. No sign of signing at all, but I made up movements to a little song I also made up (JD would like to note that I made up the words, there is as of yet no particular tune). I thought the fusspot was just imitating me when I did the motions, but yesterday when I sang the song while sitting still she danced away through our routine.

Which really does suggest that I ought to be able to think of a feasible way to telling her not to take off her diaper.

Back

in lalaland.

The flight went rather well. Well enough that the couple sitting next to me pulled out their camera and took a photo of my fusspot halfway through the flight because she was that cute. Even though they were sitting next to her on an airplane.

The rest of the trip was not exactly so perfect, but more on that when I've had more than 2 hours sleep.

Before I forget, took the fusspot to her 9-month check-up in NYC. You know how cartoon characters have weird proportions which make them cute? Same with stuffed animals and booble heads? I think my fusspot is benefiting.

Least you've forgotten the all-important statistics, my little one was 50th percentile for weight at 3 months, 51st percentile at 6 months and a slight drop (kidding) to 49th percentile at 9 months. JD and I beamed with pride, as if were the type of parents who actually plan meals in advance and buy organic apples and don't take it as a point of pride that I did not cook a single meal (breakfast included) during my 2-week stint in the U.S. Then the doctor asked our permission to measure her again because the numbers "looked a bit odd" (way to make first-time parents queasy). The fusspot is now in the mid-90s for head circumference and a sharp drop to the 17th percentile for height. No wonder I have to roll all her pants. My adorable little cartoon character.

Shana tova

Yesterday it was a leaky diaper at 3 am.

This morning the fusspot threw up all over me and our bed at 6 am. We're doing the laundry now before our flight down South to see my parents and Kate (who makes me sound like a glamorous international spy, which is awesome!).

I try to never take these moments for granted. Here's to another wonderful year with my darling JD and absolutely perfect fusspot who is bopping along to the radio right now.

L'shana tova.

Sigh

On the way back into my apartment building today one of my neighbors asked if I was pregnant again.

Sigh.

What to respond? If all it took was dreaming, then I'm absolutely working on another baby. If you're asking whether we've saved up anywhere close to enough money to afford the ever-enthralling task of future fertility treatments? Well, nope. We're not even bank-account-pregnant, let alone paper/peestick-pregnant.

(and yes dear readers, I will be keeping a tally of how many people ask me this question)

Bliss

Let's see what has happened since we walked into our apartment at about 9 pm yesterday night (15 hours after walking out of our other domicile):

- I woke up feeling a bit damp at 3 am. Leaky-diarrhea-diaper damp (yes, we cosleep for any new readers).
- While searching for clean sheets the fusspot was rolling around on the bed and rolled right over the edge, through the slates on her new bed guard rail (which will be shipped back to amazon later today) and fell only to the floor. Thankfully she seemed entirely unhurt, landed on her hands, and did not even pause in her fussing.
- Left her out to air after her diaper change. She pooed all over the floor (messy diarrhea poo. And yes, I know diarrhea is hard to identify in babies but going with the definition of more than one poo per hour of an unusual sort - she got it. Did I mention we were in transit for 15 hours yesterday?).

But the bliss part? Not having to deal with any of it alone.

Growing up

You may not realize quite what a milestone this is for me, but I just did something that I would have considered completely absurd even this time last year.

I packed.

For a flight that does not leave until Wednesday afternoon.

Not started to pack, finished. Down to the cheerios and bib in the diaper bag and the NYC apartment keys in my purse.

I feel downright almost grown-up.

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On a completely different note, thank you to my lovely European readers Caro (who has some big news to share) and May for reminding me that I can be quite an idiot ;-) Of course my oven is in celsius, not fahrenheit. In my defense it is electric and seems to run a particularly cool 220C. But it certainly works. Dinner was a lovely disaster. Not only did I invite someone at 4:30 pm on Friday (for dinner that evening), but said guest beat me to the house. So instead of having a delightful 4 course meal ready to serve, I 'encouraged' my guests to each take charge of a dish and cook it themselves while I retreated to my room to change and nurse my baby. And despite all of that, dinner was lovely.

And thank you Melissia for the cleaning-up advice. This is exactly what I was looking for.