Today’s Crazy Hip Blog Mama Carnival Thingy Subject is “Crazy hacks you have come up with — unconventional uses
for baby items or things you thought you’d never do as a parent but
find yourself doing out of sheer desperation!”

I have hemmed and hawed on what to write for the past hour and six minutes– the exact duration thus far of Herr Meow’s nap.  I’m not much of a MacGyver when it comes to things– rather a linear thinker that way, really.  However I can tell you one thing: I’m still not sure why we buy into the whole "replicas of the adult items" bit.  Every single time, a kid will know which one is the thing that works, and which one is the one meant to pacify.  I mean, wouldn’t you?  So — always make sure that if you want the kid playing with something to distract him, you use it first purposefully.  Want him to play with a set of keys?  Pretend to open a door with them (but sneakily open the door with the real set) and watch as the little safecracker can’t wait to play with the utilitarian toy over the boring set that just dangles listlessly and does nothing.

But let me go back to Herr Meow’s glorious, delicious, quiet, sweet naptime: the time of day also known as "That time that helps restore some of my sanity, even though I’m not sure that you can call it "sanity" since I don’t think I was really all that sane even before I had the baby, but what the heck, right?"

Now the topic specifies that there are things you promised yourself you’d never do as a parent; however once babies came I assume life kicked you in the shins and there you went.

I have honestly been thinking about this but I am not being able to think too clearly because iTunes is on shuffle and is pulsating rather loudly out of my computer.  These days I like to keep lots of noise going through *someone’s* nap so that any noise I make isn’t suddenly amplified and highlighted due to the absence of noise– if that made any sense, you’re a genius.  The bottom line is that I don’t want him to wake up.  The days where he wakes up early make me want to scream, and sometimes I indulge, since there is already one screaming body in the house.  I only feel sorry for the cat, who looks at us with what I swear is a face filled with pity.  Maybe she’s just sad that she can’t barbecue us both.

Mm.  Barbecue.

I’ve stalled enough:

I let him watch TV. 

He watches American Idol and is a big Melinda and Blake fan –and was a big Phil fan, actually– but does not care for Jordin and I completely agree.  Jordin goes flat too often and it wasn’t until last week that they finally told her.  Plus, I find her mannerisms annoying, and I think it’s unfair that last season they were so harsh to Lisa Tucker and Paris Bennett for having trouble parlaying their age to their song interpretation –to the point of rudeness– while this year Jordin (with that insufferable spelling), who is an inferior singer than either of the aforementioned teens, gets her butt kissed for mediocre performance after mediocre performance. 
But ahem, okay.  He loved "So You Think You Can Dance" tons las summer and likes "Dancing With The Stars", but does not care for the E! countdowns as much, it seems.  To be honest, he is usually asleep by the time we do most of our TV watching, but he does seem to enjoy anything that involves song and dance.
He also enjoys "Bob The Builder" , "Curious George" and "Clifford The Big Red Dog"
on PBS Kids.  "Sesame Street" is still a little more confusing for him, but he likes Cookie Monster and Oscar the Grouch.  Oh!  And okay… Spongebob is awesome.  There, I said it.
I admit it though:  we watch because I like the shows in the first place.  Also, he never watches by himself.

_______

I think that it’s nearly impossible to remember all the things you swore you’d never do as a parent.  I remember being virulently opposed to pacifiers and sippy cups.  So when someone who shall remain nameless suggested I try it, I wasn’t happy.  And the first few times we popped it in his mouth, Herr Meow was not happy either.  He would spit it out as far as his lungs would let him instead.

But there is a reason they call it pacifier, and they aren’t talking about the kid.

However, being the paranoid mother I have turned out to be, I was really afraid he’d become attached to the paci and be one of those weird six-year olds you see still sucking on a binky and pitching a fit whenever the filthy little plastic thing is gone.  Turns out, though, that he really just liked it as a toy.  Sometimes he’ll run into an old pacifier and pop it in his mouth as a game and then spit it right back out.

As for the sippy cups?  Yup, we use them, but without valves.  It’s caused more than one big spill, but at least he now understands that gravity also works on those suckers.

Hmm…. what else?

Ah okay.  Swore I’d never let him eat off the ground?  Check.  I would never stick his paci in my mouth to clean it?  Check!  Told myself I’d never clean any part of his anatomy with my shirt?  I still have not done that.  BUT!  I have cleaned his nose off (among other places) with my bare hands more than once.

Have given him sweets to shut him up– which doesn’t work nearly as well, since he is so picky he sometimes shuns ice cream (I know… if I hadn’t given birth to him I’d wonder if he was an alien),  check.

Yes.  But there is no guilt, really.  It just happens.  And isn’t life just what happens while we’re making plans anyway?

16 May This entry was published on May 16, 2007 at 12:44 pm and is filed under Herr Meow!. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.