Running on fumes

When my nephews were younger and would visit our house, I was always fascinated by how little they actually ate. We'd make them half a PB&J; they'd eat half of that. We'd pour them half a cup of milk; they'd drink half of that. It drove me nuts. I hate wasting food. In fact, when I was pregnant, I threw up food only a handful of times (yes, you can vomit without food coming up, but that's a whole 'nother story). Whenever I felt nauseous, I would tell the baby "We don't waste food. You're not going to make me throw up!"

Well, Dan wastes food. It makes me nuts. He no longer sits in his high chair for meals. Oh, he'll sit for a few minutes, eat a few morsels, then very methodically start throwing food on the floor. He then loudly announces, complete with wild gesticulation, his desire to get down. It's not that he's not hungry; he just doesn't want to be confined. His first move when he's been released? He eats the food he just threw on the floor. I've resorted to putting his high chair tray on a shelf on the baker's rack where he can just graze while we eat our dinner in peace. Earlier in the day, there's an ice cube tray filled with little snacks like raisins, cut up apricots, goldfish crackers, Cheerios, diced up banana and diced up cheese. He eats to his heart's content, all the while scooting around the house. This is probably a choking hazard. But what's a momma to do? Of course, after a while, Dan starts carrying the ice cube tray around and ends up spilling all the little snackies I put out for him. If it's just going to end up on the floor anyway, why don't I ... oh, nevermind. You'd probably call the child welfare people on me.

I know Dan is getting what he needs nutritionally from breast milk and what little he chooses to eat during the day. All the food he gets is healthy (except for the little strawfuls of Sprite he gets from Daddy). Everything I've read about this stage indicates that this is developmentally normal. But that still doesn't stop me from being annoyed and perplexed. Where the heck does he get the energy to go all day with just a 90 minute nap, a 10 minute catnap and very little food?

Requiem for a washing machine

Our washing machine finally died. We've been resuscitating him with "chest" compressions mid-cycle for months now. Tonight, he just gave out. Jim said he smelled burning rubber. Our dryer still works, sort of, but she's really on her last leg and deserves to be buried with her partner. It's the least we could do for her.

So tonight, we went to Lowe's to buy a new washer and dryer. The new couple arrives on Friday. Meanwhile, I'll be doing something I haven't done since college ... laundry at mom's house!