So this weekend busted my butt.
Friday night was spent baking gingerbread cookies (my favorite) to bring to lab meeting and to a Christmas party that my parenting group is hosting this week. Then the Bean had a terrible night, up several times, and crying more than normal. We fear this is the beginning of Act 2: Top Teeth.
Saturday morning I was running around lab like a chicken with its head cut off, doing hot work. (Have I mentioned how I hate working with radioactivity on the weekends? It bears repeating... I HATE working with radioactivity on the weekends. I feel like weekend lab work should not involve stressful experiments... But that's just me.) I put the Bean down for a nap just before I left, hoping that Husband would have an opportunity to do some chores while I was gone, but apparently all he had time for was a shower before the Bean was up and ready to play.
For the first time in a few weeks it was actually sunny out (though still only in the upper 30s), so we took the Bean and Pup to our favorite park for a walk. We got all bundled up, and actually put the Bean in her jogging stroller for the first time. So it was her first walk in the stroller facing forwards. She loved it! (I admit, I had big plans for that jogging stroller this summer while I was on maternity leave, but realized too late that it wasn't designed for newborns... But the stroller worked great, and I'm looking forward to going on some runs with the Bean soon!)
When we returned home, we found a horrible mess in our bed. Apparently Pup, who likes to "build a nest" before she naps (read: use her paws to dig at her blankets until she's pushed them up into an agreeable pile for napping in the middle), had built a nest in our bed that morning... which actually meant that her nails had not only torn a huge hole in our fitted sheet, but also ripped the top of the mattress. Ugh. So while Husband tried to get a fussy little Bean down for her nap, I ran off to get us some new sheets for the night.
Saturday night was spent making baby food and prepping some freezer meals for a friend who just had his second baby. Bean had another awful night, and we resorted to Tylenol at 3:00 a.m. It seemed to help for awhile, but she was up bright and early a few hours later. Sigh. No sleep for the weary.
Sunday morning, after giving Bean a bath (a really fun bath) I got her down for a nap and managed to get some lasagnes made for our friend as well (keeping aside one for ourselves, mind you). I think I always forget though how much work lasagnes are. It took for freakin' ever. I got the grocery shopping done too, and then we had just enough time to get a cup of coffee before heading off to deliver the food to our friend.
Our friend's baby was just two weeks old, weighing somewhere in the neighborhood of 8.5 pounds. I couldn't believe how tiny a two week old was, and had a hard time believing that Bean was even smaller when she was that young. When I went to hold this tiny creature, I felt awkward. It was like I had completely forgotten how to hold a newborn, and for some reason I felt frightened to do so. Didn't I just do this?
I ended the day with a soak in the tub. Bean had another terrible night, waking up every couple of hours (though less crying, which was nice). I'm exhausted and ready to have another weekend. One where I don't commit myself to spending the entire time in the kitchen.
But instead I gotta go set up a PCR and wash my blots. And tonight I gotta make more baby food. My little goblin is eating her food up almost as fast as I can make it!
Oh the Irony
1 week ago