Things are different now that I am "at home" full time. So far, I am still really enjoying it - I might find it hard to go back to teaching.
By 7:30, Jeremy had left to take James and Maggie to school, so I finished getting the other 3 of us bathed, dressed, and fed. Jeremy was back shortly after 8 to help with those chores and get himself ready for work. He also helpfully checked the calendar and discovered that today was "pajama day" at preschool, so we undressed John and put him in warm pajamas. (Warm pajamas, rather than the thin t-shirt he insisted on sleeping in last night.)
Jeremy left to drop John off at preschool shortly before 9, and from 8:50 - 11:40 I worked from home on my research (paper draft due in 5 weeks). It was reasonably productive time, considering that I was holding a baby the whole time. Sometimes Helen slept, and sometimes she ate, and sometimes she sat quietly in my arms, but she was very content as long as I didn't dare to put her down. (Definitely time to find some sort of baby carrier.) Fortunately, much of my research work can be done one-handed, with a mouse, but I am getting faster at the one-handed typing again.
I unfortunately had to wake Helen to go pick up John, so I drove the whole way there while she screamed. I was glad that it is a very short drive. John was unusually cooperative at pick-up time today - I only had to chase him all the way around the building once to get him in the car. (I had thought, a month ago, that this chasing John everywhere was the worst while pregnant, since I couldn't run after him or carry him. Turns out this is not any easier while toting an infant in a car seat carrier.)
By 12:15 we were home. Helen was screaming again. I went upstairs to change her diaper, and wondered if she was running a fever. I began ransacking all the cupboards in search of a thermometer. This is not a pretty task at our house under any conditions, but it is much worse when done one-handed while trying to soothe a crying infant. Finally found one working thermometer. Not the rectal one I was looking for but it would work - washed and disinfected it. Changed a very messy diaper. Took the temperature. Or tried. I gave up when it appeared to be below the doctor's 100.5 threshold, since the thermometer was moving slowly and Helen was not appreciating the process.
I got Helen cleaned up again (the indignity of the exam had caused her to pee and poop all over the changing table, of course), then tucked her in the crib (screaming) while I cleaned and disinfected the changing table and the thermometer. (Put that one in the baby kit so I don't accidentally use it later for oral temps. Mental note: buy new thermometer. ) Picked up Helen and went down to the kitchen to see about lunch.
Now, it was nearly 1 pm. Not good, since John hadn't eaten yet. I laid Helen on a quilt on the floor. She was only mildly fussy if laid on her tummy, which is supposedly a no-no, but I kept her in sight. I discovered that John had already selected his lunch menu - he had found the leftover pancakes in the fridge and left them on the table. I decided to ignore this suggestion since all he had eaten yet today was a scone (breakfast) and a cupcake (birthday treat at school). I made a reasonably balanced meal of PB sandwich, apple slices, cucumber slices, bell pepper slices. I even cut off the crusts for John to entice him.
I then picked up crying Helen and went to find John for lunch. During my hour of other chaos, he had changed - from warm PJs to the flimsy nightshirt from last night. Well, might as well continue the pajama day theme, right? He was happily settled in playing computer games - with the playroom door shut just in case I would notice him there and tell him not to do this.
He agreed to turn off the game and come right up for lunch (will wonders never cease?) but immediately got upset when he saw his plate. "I wanted pancakes!" Sometimes I wish he didn't have such a fabulous memory. We discussed the merits of good nutrition and he reluctantly agreed to sit down and eat my offerings.
He didn't sit long, though. In between each and every bite, he got up and practiced his running time-trials through the kitchen. The goal appeared to be to get up enough speed to carry himself involuntarily to the top of the steps at the end of the course. He was very busy filling multiple roles - runner, cheerleader, announcer, sound-effects director. Perhaps it is not surprising that he consumed very little food before giving up altogether.
A few minutes later, he returned to the table wearing his boots. Just his boots, undies, and nightshirt. "I'm going outside," he announced and headed for the door. "John, wait! You need snowpants!" You would have thought he had just been told to walk the plank. Except that he would probably enjoy the plank. But despite the beautiful sunshine today, it is 28 degrees. I thought he needed a bit more clothing to play in the 6 inches of snow blanketing our yard.
Helen and I went on a one-armed mission to gather up all of John's snowclothes. Snowpants and hat in the car - still in his school backpack. Sweatpants and sweatshirt from his room to go with the nightshirt. "John, where are your socks?" Found the socks with the discarded, warmer pajamas. Put Helen down (cry, cry) and got John all bundled and out the backdoor. Two minutes later, he was knocking at the door to drop off his hat. "It's too hot." Back to the backyard. Three minutes later, he was ringing the doorbell. In the FRONT yard.
"John, how did you get to the front?"
"I climbed the fence," he said with a perplexed expression on his face, as if thinking, "Duh, Mom, why are you asking such a stupid question?" "Here, Mom, I don't want my coat and mittens." And he ran off before I could object. Two minutes, later, he was back to drop off the sweatshirt. So now, he was outside, in the front yard, in 28 degrees, with shirtsleeves. Great. Fortunately, he lost interest in the whole endeavor a minute later and came inside anyway.
So, all the hunting for snow clothes may have been in vain, but at least I shouldn't get a call today from Protective Services. Good thing, too, because I really don't have time for that. Helen's done eating, so I need to leave now to pick up the older kids from school, and get to a doctor's appointment.
But for some reason, I really am still liking this home thing.
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