A Couple of Days that Were Busier than they Probably Sound
It’s already hard to believe how much we’ve packed into this weekend, and I’ve still got a day to go. I spent most of yesterday afternoon writing, finishing an outline and banging out the first 2,000 words of my story. When Mama Dog had to run out for errands, Baby Dog was still snoozing, so I was able to get a bunch done. When the wee one woke, I gave her a test spin on the Exersaucer, and she gave it two very enthusiastic thumbs up – way up! Mama Dog points out that this is the first play environment she’s had which involves and upright rather than recumbent position. This, I suppose, is the first step of learning to walk. Already, she’s figured out how to swivel herself around in the saucer. Rachelle, it’s not really that hard to assemble. The hardest parts are the ones involving springs. The yellow pieces with the little springs in them fit on in a weird way that’s not immediately intuitive. The green pieces with the big springs really require an extra set of hands to put together.
At five, I sprang into domestic action, putting away dishes, clearing off surfaces, and digging the fondue gear out of the back closet. I got Mama Dog the fondue set for a birthday or something a year or two back, and this is only the second time we’ve used it. Mama Dog says fondue is really easy to make, but somehow just wrestling all the bits of equipment out of their hideaways seems like a big task. J & M brought some Swiss wine for use in the fondue recipe, and Mama Dog added squash and salad on the side. It was quite a repast.
Baby Dog was in a grumpy way when J & M showed up. “This is the down side,” I said, carting her about and trying to bring out some of the jolliness for which she’s rightly known. Mama Dog was hurriedly whipping up some rice cereal to accomplish that very task, and J & M were astonished by the rapid transformation once she started eating. By the time her tummy was full, Baby Dog was restored to charm machine status. She played happily with toys on her highchair tray while we dug into the fondue. When the big people were all stuffed with bread and cheese and apples and squash and vegetation, Mama Dog discreetly withdrew to give Baby Dog her bedtime meal, then settled her down in the crib. I followed up with a brief shushing, but it didn’t take much. She was quite ready to fall asleep. We whiled away the rest of the evening talking about writing and movies and books and work and ex-spouses and family, gradually killing off a bottle of Pinot Grigio and then starting in on the leftover Swiss wine.
When they left, I looked around and saw that the kitchen was a wreck of cheese-filmed pots. I promised to take care of it in the morning. Mama Dog was too tired to disagree, even were she so inclined (which she wasn’t). She went to bed and I stayed up for another hour or so working on the story. When I was ready for bed, I opened Baby Dog’s door to give her the benefit of the heat from the living room. She didn’t stir, so I tiptoed back to our room. Just as I was about to get into bed, she broke out crying. I checked her diaper, which was wet. She was really just crying in her sleep, but by the time I was done changing her, she was awake and hollering for food. Poor Mama Dog had to crawl back out of bed to feed her daughter. I stayed up reading until she was done. It was after one by the time we again turned out the light.
Mama Dog fed Baby again around 7:30 or so, then tried to coax her back to sleep lying between us. Instead, Baby Dog chose that moment to discover the tattoo on my left arm and busied herself trying to remove it with her fingers. Doggy Dog took this to mean we were all awake and ready to get up, and started whining to be let out. It was around eight, so I decided what the hell. I let the dog out, changed the baby, and told Mama Dog to put her eye cover on and her ear plugs in and get some sleep, which she did. Baby Dog was again happy in the Exersaucer while I got the kitchen cleaned up from the night before. That took a while.
When Mama Dog got up, we breakfasted and I took Doggy Dog out for his morning walk, and then sat down to get some more writing done. Mama and Baby set out on a shopping expedition to SF – Baby’s first time on BART – and I cranked steadily. When they got back to Rockridge around one o’clock, I took a break and Doggy Dog and I walked out to meet them halfway. We had a pleasant family walk home.
After lunch, the handyguy showed up to supposedly finish the work he didn’t finish on Friday. This is a large can of worms, and Mama Dog will no doubt discuss it in her own faversham. Suffice to say that I fed the baby twice while work was going on around us, that it’s hard for her to nap when somebody’s banging nails, and that everything still isn’t fucking done.
Except the story, that is. I was down to the last paragraphs when I had to move away from the computer area to let some shelves fail to get installed. I took the dog out for walk #3. Lucky dog today. Strangely, I feel more like going out for walks when I’m writing. It’s a nice little interval in which to figure out the next part coming up. Doggy Dog probably wishes I wrote more. When the handyguy was done not completing the installation, I sat back down and sprinted to the finish.
Supper was had. Baby Dog is down to sleep now, and Mama Dog is reading my story. I’m completely wiped. Think I’ll watch my stories now.
At five, I sprang into domestic action, putting away dishes, clearing off surfaces, and digging the fondue gear out of the back closet. I got Mama Dog the fondue set for a birthday or something a year or two back, and this is only the second time we’ve used it. Mama Dog says fondue is really easy to make, but somehow just wrestling all the bits of equipment out of their hideaways seems like a big task. J & M brought some Swiss wine for use in the fondue recipe, and Mama Dog added squash and salad on the side. It was quite a repast.
Baby Dog was in a grumpy way when J & M showed up. “This is the down side,” I said, carting her about and trying to bring out some of the jolliness for which she’s rightly known. Mama Dog was hurriedly whipping up some rice cereal to accomplish that very task, and J & M were astonished by the rapid transformation once she started eating. By the time her tummy was full, Baby Dog was restored to charm machine status. She played happily with toys on her highchair tray while we dug into the fondue. When the big people were all stuffed with bread and cheese and apples and squash and vegetation, Mama Dog discreetly withdrew to give Baby Dog her bedtime meal, then settled her down in the crib. I followed up with a brief shushing, but it didn’t take much. She was quite ready to fall asleep. We whiled away the rest of the evening talking about writing and movies and books and work and ex-spouses and family, gradually killing off a bottle of Pinot Grigio and then starting in on the leftover Swiss wine.
When they left, I looked around and saw that the kitchen was a wreck of cheese-filmed pots. I promised to take care of it in the morning. Mama Dog was too tired to disagree, even were she so inclined (which she wasn’t). She went to bed and I stayed up for another hour or so working on the story. When I was ready for bed, I opened Baby Dog’s door to give her the benefit of the heat from the living room. She didn’t stir, so I tiptoed back to our room. Just as I was about to get into bed, she broke out crying. I checked her diaper, which was wet. She was really just crying in her sleep, but by the time I was done changing her, she was awake and hollering for food. Poor Mama Dog had to crawl back out of bed to feed her daughter. I stayed up reading until she was done. It was after one by the time we again turned out the light.
Mama Dog fed Baby again around 7:30 or so, then tried to coax her back to sleep lying between us. Instead, Baby Dog chose that moment to discover the tattoo on my left arm and busied herself trying to remove it with her fingers. Doggy Dog took this to mean we were all awake and ready to get up, and started whining to be let out. It was around eight, so I decided what the hell. I let the dog out, changed the baby, and told Mama Dog to put her eye cover on and her ear plugs in and get some sleep, which she did. Baby Dog was again happy in the Exersaucer while I got the kitchen cleaned up from the night before. That took a while.
When Mama Dog got up, we breakfasted and I took Doggy Dog out for his morning walk, and then sat down to get some more writing done. Mama and Baby set out on a shopping expedition to SF – Baby’s first time on BART – and I cranked steadily. When they got back to Rockridge around one o’clock, I took a break and Doggy Dog and I walked out to meet them halfway. We had a pleasant family walk home.
After lunch, the handyguy showed up to supposedly finish the work he didn’t finish on Friday. This is a large can of worms, and Mama Dog will no doubt discuss it in her own faversham. Suffice to say that I fed the baby twice while work was going on around us, that it’s hard for her to nap when somebody’s banging nails, and that everything still isn’t fucking done.
Except the story, that is. I was down to the last paragraphs when I had to move away from the computer area to let some shelves fail to get installed. I took the dog out for walk #3. Lucky dog today. Strangely, I feel more like going out for walks when I’m writing. It’s a nice little interval in which to figure out the next part coming up. Doggy Dog probably wishes I wrote more. When the handyguy was done not completing the installation, I sat back down and sprinted to the finish.
Supper was had. Baby Dog is down to sleep now, and Mama Dog is reading my story. I’m completely wiped. Think I’ll watch my stories now.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 9:25 PM
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