The Learning Curve

I write this entry with the quiet delight of someone who knows very well that they should be doing one of several decidedly more responsible activities at the moment, but isn't. Kimberly and Ann (who generously agreed to spend the week in a two-bedroom apartment in late August with two other adults, a toddler, and a newborn babe) have gone out to get us a bigger backpack so that we can accommodate the gear of two children. They have done this in part because it needed doing, and partly to leave me in peace to get some other work done. Instead, I find myself rereading favorite sections from A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, which I was only reading for a moment while someone else was on the computer, but continued reading long after the aforementioned person had vacated the computer and, in fact, had already left the apartment. Just moments ago I got up with a sigh, determined to get to work, but secretly wondering if the Pacific Crest Trail had a website, when I hooked a sudden detour through my children's rooms. My children. Both of them are napping, stripped down to their diaper covers. Natalie is on her belly with her bangkick tucked just enough around her legs to satisfy her. Micah's little belly is heaving away, and his flailing arms are finally trapped and swaddled just enough to keep them quiet, but to leave the rest of him bare. Fans wurr.

I'm somewhat amazed at my moment of quiet, because I never imagined I would find such a space again for quite some time, certainly not so soon. Admittedly, I owe it mostly to Kimberly and Ann's generosity, and upon the pleasantly surprising realization that both kids will sometimes sleep at the same time, like the conjunction of planets. But I also think it is because we are already starting to figure out how to do this, how to parent two children and still take care of ourselves. Sure, lots of folks have figured all of this out before us, but it feels good that we are figuring it out for ourselves.

Negotiations

Natalie has always eaten well. For the most part, she's able to eat the food we prepare for ourselves. She still probably eats better than we do, given our intentions to try and diversify her diet a bit. There are some foods, though, that take some coercion. For example, getting her to eat food higher in iron (meat) isn't the tastiest in her opinion, so we try to mix it with things that hide a bit of the taste (yogurt, avocado). Our tactic is to feed her the mix while simultaneously giving her a tasty food (fruit, pasta, cheese) to eat with her hands as a means of distraction. She's put up with it well, but we have learned where we need to extend to her the same respect. The other day her finger food consisted of pasta shells and blueberries. As I waited with a spoonful of protein-dense blah, she tenaciously put the blueberry inside the pasta shell and lifted the shell to her mouth to eat the whole ensemble. Doing this one handed, she had amazing dexterity. Blueberries fell, pasta was dropped, but each time she succeeded. Mama simply had to wait. Between. Every. Bite.