Tales from the Crib

Dude. What is UP with my kid only napping when her DADDY is taking care of her? I spend every waking minute of her life with her, but when I want just a few hours of precious peace and quiet to read a book in bed surrounded by piles of rose petals, goassamer bed linens and a personal masseuse bringing me some champagne before my massage, all she does is stand in her crib and YELL at me?

But, when her daddy has just a few hours to spend all alone with her, playing, having burping contests, wrestling and doing whatever it is daddies do, what does she do? All together now: NAP! For almost 3 hours!

On Saturday, I had a baby shower and a haircut appointment, so I scampered off to be all alone. Well, by alone, I mean surrounded by 15 women. But, in my book, these days, that is alone. Seeing as how I was not in charge of making sure anyone fell down the stairs, other than myself, of course, and I was not in charge of sniffing anyone's ass to see if they need new britches, including my own, I was definitely in solitary mode. Add to that the feast of junkfood and a glass of wine in a living room overlooking the frozen river and you have.....a good afternoon. And clean britches.

Now, you know when you walk into a salon and every single person in the salon, either working there, or customers, male or female, all have the exact same chunky red, brown and blond highlights circa 1999, or Kelly Clarkson, that you may not be in for the best haircut of your life.

I quickly changed to "just a haircut, please." When he persisted with the, "So you don't want any highlights? No touch of color?" I just rolled my eyes and said, "Hell to the NO." He didn't look gay enough to touch my color (so to speak). Luckily, with my current hair style [see also: Heavily Bedraggled], it is hard to really screw up. Much.

While I was out, John took Becca to look for a toy boat for the bathtub. This is what they found. Two seconds out of the package, the poor guy started losing body parts at an alarming rate.

I wonder if it is called "Differently Abled Kayaker." Might be hard to hold a paddle/oar thingy with no hands. Just sayin'.

About 5 hours later, I breezed in, all coiffed and relaxed, expecting to see John stumbling down the stairs, whiny toddler clinging to his pant legs, the house in a shambles, looking all frazzled and crazed (so, basically, the way I feel by 5 p.m. every day). I envisioned walking in, taking over and telling him to go take a break and relax while I take care of the baby and clean the house and stand on my head doing the ironing or something. Instead, I walked in to a silent house, husband out frolicking in the snow with the dog. "Shhhhh," he said. "She's still sleeping."