Argh, so I'm over my cold and back into the swing of things. Except that the swing of things includes sitting on the floor with my 6 month old son and playing with puppets and blocks and dolls and balls and napkins and empty boxes and ANYTHING ELSE WITHIN REACH THAT WILL MAKE HIM HAPPY. Unfortunately, the swing of things does not include folding laundry, doing dishes or taking out the garbage. My poor, poor husband.
We are moving this weekend, because, you know, that's what we do every 10 to 12 months is we move. For a year, we acquire more and more things and then we decide it would be fun to pack it all into a moving van and take it somewhere else for a year. Except that when we moved back from Ireland, SOMEBODY ELSE packed all of our stuff and moved it for us. Oh, happy day when you pay someone else to do the crap work for you!
This year, we are hiring a company to pack and move for us again so that I can sit on the floor and make silly voices and play with toys while someone else does the non-baby related stuff. I'm so attentive to my son and there to respond to his every need. So it makes perfect sense that I put him down for a nap so I could call moving companies this morning to find out how many weeks my husband would have to work to pay for this move. Samson cried, and I let him cry it out. Of course he eventually fell asleep and I made all of the necessary arrangements--movers, cleaners, carpet cleaners, etc. When the baby woke up 45 minutes later and I went upstairs to fetch him, I dutifully changed his diaper. And I found SO. MUCH. POOP. Poop that had, for 45 minutes, been squished and sloshed around in his diaper, so much so that I was cleaning poop OFF OF HIS BACK AND ELBOWS. Like I said, back in the swing of things.