Five steps to easier laundry
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| See? This is our laundry straight from the dryer, dumped onto the living room floor. Two loads, I think. |
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| And THIS is how it looks all “folded” using my new methods. It’s big departure from my perfect little piles of ‘yore. Now I ONLY fold our nice shirts, jeans, dishtowels (because I like that drawer to be neat), facecloths and towels. I do NOT fold anything of Baby Boy’s, my tank tops, my tees, yoga pants, bibs, baby washcloths, underwear, etc. |
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| With those few exceptions, everything is basically just spread out flat and separated into piles of where it’s actually going, i.e. the actual drawer or basket it will end up.
It’s all about making changes that will make things EASIER for you. For example, I used to have one drawer for Baby Boy’s solid-coloured tops and onesies, and one drawer for his patterned tops and onesies, but realized that wasn’t the best solution. Now I keep long-sleeved in one drawer and short-sleeved in another drawer — so I sort the piles accordingly now. |
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| Once everything’s organized on the living room floor, it’s time to get it all into the proper places. Since this is two loads, it took two basket-fulls to do it, and I arrange it by room (Baby Boy’s in one basket, our bedroom in another basket). I started with Baby Boy’s room. Spread out the big “single” items in the bottom … |
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| Then roll up your piles (i.e. pile of tees, pile of pants, pile of onesies) into tight little bundles, and start arranging the bundles in your basket. |
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| Sometimes when you look at the basket at this point, it looks kind of messy. But it’s a SYSTEM, and it works! |
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| Open up the drawers, unroll your bundles, and pop everything in. Baby Boy’s drawers used to contain perfect arrangements of neatly-folded shirts … for about three minutes. Now they stay much neater, because it’s just stacks of flat shirts. It’s way easier to find what I’m looking for now, without making a big mess. |
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| Then I just return to the living room with the empty basket, roll up everything for our room, and repeat the putting-away process. My socks and underwear are tossed into a corner of the basket near my clothes, and Darling Husband’s are tossed in a corner near his clothes, so I can quickly put everything in our respective dressers (which are across the room from each other). If there’s anything to be hung up, I just drape it over the basket on top of everything else. DONE! |
One of the best perks of “folding” laundry like this? When your baby crawls all over the piles, he’s not accidentally unfolding everything and undoing all of your hard work. And not having to re-do a chore? Priceless!
Eff you, formula!
I did it. I finally — after, like, 10 months of refusing to budge off my stubborn high horse — gave Baby Boy formula.
And you know what sucks?
HE WON’T EVEN DRINK IT!
Arrrrrrrrrrgh!
Let me back up … Remember on Sunday night, when I posted about how I was thinking about when to wean off breastfeeding? Well, writing that post must have been cathartic and helped me organize my feelings, because just after I published it, I basically headed for the kitchen and began boiling water for the first attempt.
I dug a can of Enfamil A+ (exactly as pictured here) out of the cupboard — where I’d stashed it waaaay back when I was pregnant and they mailed it to me for free.
I read the directions. I boiled water. I cooled the water. I painstakingly measured the water and the little scoops of powdered nastiness formula into two sippy-cups (Baby Boy hasn’t used bottles in a month, so I’m not regressing just because of formula). It did not look like milk — breast, cow or otherwise. It looked like … white-ish water.
I tasted it to test the temperature and almost gagged. It was like sour pee! I double-checked the expiry date on the can, but it was good for almost another year. Still … why the hell did it taste so disgusting? I had kind of envisioning it tasting like a baby milkshake, or even one of those instant breakfast drinks — gross, but tolerable.
Within minutes of finishing the mixtures, Baby Boy woke up. Darling Husband had just walked through the door, so I sent him into the nursery with a sippy-cup of chalky-looking white water formula. I hovered in the doorway out of eyesight, feeling kind of sad that this was the beginning of the boobie ending, but also kind of proud of myself for … well … getting over myself and giving it a try.
He was back out a couple minutes later, Baby Boy all quiet and tucked back into his crib. “He didn’t want it,” Darling Husband reported, handing me the barely-touched sippy-cup. “He just wanted to be held. I think his teeth are bothering him.”
Are you KIDDING me?
He didn’t WANT it?
After ALL THAT?
Day 2 (Monday) and Day 3 (yesterday) were not any better. I continued breastfeeding as usual, but offered him some formula in a sippy-cup a few times each day. He drank maaaaybe four or five mouthfuls, once, and took only one sip every other time. Not that I blame him — that sh-t is NASTY!
Now I am kind of … puzzled. I got all riled up over the idea of giving him formula, and it (stupidly) never occurred to me that he WOULDN’T take it easily. I finally want to get this process going, and there is a roadblock I never expected.
Do I try a different brand? I have a different can sitting in my cupboard, too — Nestle Good Start (pictured here) — so maybe that one will taste better? Or is formula SUPPOSED to taste and look that gross?
Boobs are much less complicated.
One and a half men
I recently took on a work-from-home project that required me to work out of the home for two days in one week.
It was very strange be with away from Baby Boy for an eight-hour day and a ten-hour-day (with three days at home in between luckily!), but I think it was good for both of us. It reminded me how to wear earrings and talk like a real person, and it showed him that there is more to life than clinging to Mama.
My mom and Darling Husband’s mom took babysitting shifts on that first day, but on the second day I was out working (the ten-hour-day), I was SO happy that Darling Husband would be able to spend the whole day with Baby Boy.
This was a big deal.
He had never spent more than 45 minutes alone with Baby Boy, except for occasions when I was in the tub or sleeping. It’s not that he wouldn’t or couldn’t do it — it’s just that when he’s not at work, we do things together as a family. Just try tearing me away from the guy!
So I went to work. Daddy stayed with Baby. I received a couple of texts throughout the day saying that everything was going fine, but I still wondered how it was really going. Was Baby Boy missing me? Was he being fussy or difficult? Was Darling Husband getting frustrated? Oh God, I didn’t lay out clothes — what would he dress him in???
How did it all go?
I got my answer at dinner that night.
When my darling son ignored me.
Ignored ME!
Let me back up. As soon as I got home from work, I smothered my little cuddle-bear in kisses and hugs. He was smiling and happy to see me, and seemed fine. His clothes even matched! Then we immediately went out to a quickie restaurant for dinner — um, as in fast food … not quick sex in the bathroom.
Anyway, I settled Baby Boy in a high chair while Darling Husband got our salads bacon cheeseburgers. I gave Baby Boy a cracker and a cup of breast milk (he’d eaten his dinner before I got home), and we all started to chow down.
And my son ignored me!
He literally turned himself in his high chair so he was facing Darling Husband, and just kept beaming up at him. Beaming! He kept grabbing at Darling Husband’s arm and trying to pull him closer. When Darling Husband — who was also juggling a bacon cheeseburger — leaned toward him, Baby Boy covered him with his trademark open-mouth sloppy kisses.
It. Was. So. CUTE!
In the interest of full disclosure, sure, a tiny part of me felt left out. I mean, I’d been gone all freakin’ day, and my baby isn’t even looking in my direction!
But seeing him positively BEAM up at his daddy, and seeing Darling Husband all pleased with the attention, and knowing that they really did have a wonderful day spending time alone together …
… the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen! I hope I never forget that moment.
Tiny techies
Baby Boy is obsessed with computers.
He is constantly crawling over to our desk, pulling himself up, and banging his fat little fists on the keyboard. I don’t really care if I’m not using it, but when I am trying to type something, I get all kinds of nkvfdif2039821jd3284 crap in the middle of an email.*
The other day I let him play with a (shut down) laptop for a minute, and he went crazy pounding the keys with this cute little concentrated look on his face. Then he started moving the screen up and down like he was opening and closing it. He was in heaven!
Do we have a future Steve Jobs on our hands? Oh, wait — now I sound like one of those parents who think their kid will be the next Sidney Crosby just because they once picked up a hockey stick and IT WAS THE CUTEST THING EVAAAAAH.
*It pains me to type “email” instead of “e-mail,” but a few days ago it officially changed, so I (nerdishly) have to comply. The former copy editor in me is weirded out by this, but must follow CP/AP Style. It’s going to take some practice to get used to it.
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