age of reasonable responsibility

18 April 2012

During this month's rotation on every fourth night Simon gets to stay in the ICU  ~3 hours later than usual which we both thoroughly and obviously enjoy. I set the expectation bar even lower than usual (possible? barely) on those days as 8am feels like 5am and 5pm feels like 2pm and you can do basic math so you get the developed photograph.

To pass the time I do fun activities such as:
watch Sebastian carefully examine his hands for the 78th time that hour
separately sneak wash Julia's trifecta of gross blankies
sweep the cabinets for Easter candy stragglers
eat the Easter candy stragglers
read brilliant internet
watch brilliant internet
and decide to do the first day of the Couch to 5K program which leaves me in a heaping "I just ran for 60 seconds every 90 seconds for 20 consecutive minutes, glared at only one dog walker who refused to yield to me and the humans I was walkrunning, and only ran the jogger into one fence while trying to explain to Julia that, 'we (breath) would (breath breath) be home (breath breath breath) soon (gasssssp for many breaths)' where is my trophy and recovery shake?" pile of 89 million weeks postpartum pride

So when I tasked Julia with the responsibilities of both getting Sebastian a toy to play with and finding her own sippy cup of 'buck' (milk -- so smart) from my throne of couch I was pleased to very pleased with the accuracy of her results
1. (clean, don't worry) tasty diaper toy and pushed off his state of the art play mat
2. straight to the buck (empty -- from the trash) source and changed into her shorts from her future as a 4 year old

You know what this means ... that expectation bar is flying excitedly right back up to near perfection every day for the rest of forever ... and ever. 



  1. oh man. she's clever, huh... wow.

  2. She is a GENIUS! And you're telling me you didn't even buy her "My Baby Can Read"????

  3. My baby sister had a trifecta (or maybe a quadruple?) of dirty blankets that she would cart around as a toddler. She loved the tags, so as you can imagine, each blanket got brown around the tag area. And then got so worn that they ripped. And yet she still needed all 5 million pieces around her in bed to fall asleep. My mom loved it.

  4. This post resulted in two laughter-triggered, painful, hopefully productive contractions. In a row.
    I'm going to re-read it at 5 minute intervals until I'm in labor.

  5. Seriously, when I complain about my one kid and non-resident husband, why don't you slap me?? Kudos to you for taking the kids on a run!!

  6. Oh man. I tried the Couch-to-5K thing last summer. It... it did not go well. I felt like I was dying, and so, of course, quit after about a week.
    And that was without pushing two babies in a jogging stroller.
    I'm such a wuss.

  7. My girls used to call milk, "muh." Then, over the weekend, Clarissa started calling it, "nilk." I love it so much, but not as much as, "buck."

    As for dirty blankets, just wait for potty training. Clarissa is in undies today and at one point I found the undies slightly wet, but no sign of a puddle anywhere. Conveniently, she was playing in a whole pile of blankets. So, I'll be doing plenty of wash when they go to bed tonight.

  8. Close... but no cigar.
    I think the Julia tush sag is the best part of these two photos

  9. I love the term 'buck' it's so sweet!
    Gosh, I know i'm commenting on an old post, but this one cheers up a gloomy morning.

    My oldest child used to chew on diapers..cause it's cushiony perhaps?
    Either way, its hilarious.



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