The Magic and the Monotony

Yesterday, I'd taken some pictures (duh) through the hours and thought it'd be kind of cool to present "a day in the life of Mal." It seemed almost idyllic, though there were a few rough spots, like when he wanted to go to sleep at 5 PM and I wouldn't let him, and when he really wanted to climb up on his new slide, but the workers were still constructing it, or every single time I needed to change his diaper.

The same kind of thing happened today. I was so frustrated when Mal came in after playing on the aforementioned new play set, only to leave the door open and let Rudy and Carol out. Rudy was easy enough to catch, but I had to run around the yard quite a bit to corral Carol (try to type that 3 times fast). On the up side, although it was in the low 40s, I wasn't cold at all by the time I came inside.

Then there was the absolute delight of having a conversation with Mal about whether or not he wanted to try some chewy Christmas mints I bought on sale the other day. (And which I offered to distract him from my general chest area.)

I told him, "You can try the mints, but they might be a little spicy."

"Mint spicy?"

"Yes."

"Fruit snacks, not spicy."

"No, fruit snacks are not spicy."

"Mint spicy."

"Yes."

"Don't like."

"You don't like spicy mints?"

He shook his head.

I said, "I DO like mints, even though they're spicy."

"Don't like."

"That's fine. We can like different things."

"Like fruit snacks. Want two."

So so cute.

And it occurred to me how my days are laced with magic and monotony, as they do this beautiful and sometimes frustrating dance, weaving in and out of each other and creating memories and moments I'd rather forget.

Like when Mal walked into his bedroom today, holding up a finger that unmistakably had been down his diaper and discovered a mess. I asked, "Did you poop?" He immediately burst into tears and started yelling, "Noooo!" but I think that's because he's a little sore. I told him not to touch anything and cleaned off his hand first. There wasn't anything on it, but there was a smudge on the outside of his diaper. And he'd just gotten out of our bed. So I went back in there (after I'd finished my initial job) to see whether there were any hidden treasures amongst the sheets, which there do not appear to be. But I don't like surprises of that nature, and hope we just got lucky this time.

Mal just took a nap, his first non-injury-related nap in more than a month. So I get quiet time! But this means he'll be up until ten. BUT that means he'll get to see his daddy tonight, which he didn't last night and usually doesn't when he doesn't nap.

I need to get started on dinner preparations. I need to put away the clothes from the laundry. I want to make a nice soft gingerbread loaf, and maybe even save it for the other members of my family.

Tomorrow is our first attempt at going to the library's storytime. We can walk. The weather was nice enough to ratchet itself up to the 60s tomorrow, before dropping below freezing tomorrow night.

I'm planning a Valentine's cookie open house (or open yard, if the weather is nice enough) for our new neighbors. No one may show up. 200 people may show up. I guess we'll just have to see.

James only has to work one more day this week, for a total of 3 days, and then he'll have 3 days off. But that next week, the 5-dayer, is going to hurt... all of us. We got used to having him home when he had 11 whole days off in a row!

Oh, and this last thing: I can't tell you where Mal's first freckle is, but it was all by itself for months, until another one popped up on his ear (I thought it was dirt at first!). Months passed, and I noticed last week that he had a third freckle on his right temple. Today, when he was rolling around (testing my hands-off approach to wardrobe because I am so chilly inside, and he's not wanting to wear anything but his diaper!), I spotted two freckles on his back, and then as he was going to sleep, I saw two teeny tiny ones on his left cheek, almost to his ear. I guess he's just going to have freckles now. 

Why did I feel it necessary to document this? A mom thing, I guess. Also, I'm lousy at remembering things. Like I have no idea how much he weighed when he was born, anymore. This is why we journal, people.