While weekends may be for the mothers of school aged children to recoup from the trauma of elementary school....this does not apply to the mothers of babies.
I, unfortunately, am a member of both mother groups.
While the kindergarten antics have died down, the baby is making sure no one has a boring weekend. She's mobile now. I've become a carpet archaeologist looking out for every stray string, crumb, toy, marble, bead, or WHATEVER that the carpet seems to create overnight. I am having an affair with my vacuum - giving it more loving attention than I have been giving to my husband.
Yet last night, it happened. Not in my 5+ years of motherhood have I experienced this. I saw one of the ends of those little plastic "strings" that hold price tags on clothing on the floor. No idea where it came from. I started to go get it but before I could, she snatched it and ate it.
Then game the gagging and gasping as it went down, followed by her crying and gagging as I tried to get to it first and pull it out (I failed) and then the crying as it went down - you can't tell me that felt good.
So at 8 months old, before trying bread, milk, cookies, real meat, or anything that does not come in a prepackaged jar from the baby aisle, the baby ate plastic. And now my archaeological ambitions continue, only they've now moved to the diaper table as I tear apart every turd from this kid looking for the price tag.
And here I thought archaeology was all glamor and excitement like Indiana Jones. I'm in the Temple of Doom alright - but its much stinkier than I envisioned.
No comments:
Post a Comment