- We bought a new fridge. We'd been talking about it a while (after seeing An Inconvenient Truth and learning that our charmingly ancient fridge was an electricity guzzler), and on Saturday we just went out and bought one. Just like that. Sometimes it feels like you should need a license or a class or legal counsel to buy things like fridges, but you don't. All it takes is a trip to Sears and a charge card. Oh, and maybe money in the savings account to pay off the card.
- My hair turned fabulous last night. Well, fabulous might be overstating it, but it was day two of no washing (my goal was last three days with no shampoo) and I looked in the mirror and it looked tousled and slightly wavy, and fine, and I was completely fine not washing it that night. Before, it had been a grit my teeth kind of ascetic not-washing. Then this morning I woke up and ran to the mirror and it still looked fine, and I squeezed a little water into it and then it even might have qualified as fabulous. The excitement! I had to wet it while taking a shower later on and I was a little disappointed. So my experiment has been a sucess, and I might not even wash it tonight. So there. (Note: my idea of fabulous is more than okay to go out in public with absolutely zero effort. I think I have low standards.)
- We are now in a period of nap transition. We are a little shocked that Lucy seems to be ready for one nap (yes, she is advanced for her age) but she seems to be ready. Actually, what I want to write is too complicated to put into one bullet, so I am transitioning out of bullets:
1. The Chaos. This is when you're first starting out, and the baby has stopped sleeping magically wherever they land, and no one sent you the memo that naps are actually work and take effort and so you're wondering why the baby is yelling at you all day, because if she were tired wouldn't she sleep?
2. The Schedule. This is the somewhat militant phase, but the also charmingly predictable phase. She naps at 9:30 am and 1:30 pm, you say, with military precision. Then you add, (less charmingly), So why the hell are you inviting us over at 2 pm? You know that's just not feasible. This is especially true when the baby is still taking three naps. Three naps require the coordination skills of Martha Stewart, and about the same amount of bitchiness. You have to protect those naps, dammit.
3. The Schedule That Doesn't Work Anymore. Phase 2 devolves into Phase 3 as soon as the baby is ready for a new nap Schedule. The problem is that the baby does not send you a memo (nor does she page Martha Stewart). And since you've gotten bitchy and inflexible about the Schedule, you persist with the old Schedule for days, and wonder what is wrong with the baby that is no longer falling asleep according to her contractual obligations.
4. The Jerryrigged schedule. This is a schedule that is turning into a Schedule. This is where we are right now. It may involve alternating days (one day two naps, the next one nap). It may involve experimenting with longer and longer periods before the nap so the baby only takes one nap on a day she might probably do better with two, so that you can put her to bed early and watch Law and Order with your husband instead of commenting about how adorable your baby is at night. For the fifth time. Somewhat bitterly. The great thing about this schedule is the possibility of one nap! (or two, from last time we were in this phase). This means a lot less work and more flexibility!) The problem is this nap schedule is exciting which is code for stressful. You put them to sleep hoping they'll sleep 2 hours like they did yesterday, in which case they'll be charming the rest of the day. Instead they wake after 45 minutes and act like Pol Pot. You have more riding on success with this schedule, whereas with Schedule 1, you just stick to the hourly chart and if they wake up early or late, it's not so big of a deal.
So there you go. There's my nap theory. I know, brilliant.
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