sunday mornings aren't just for church.

saturday night, after bebe had gone to bed, mommy and i were partaking of our regular ritual- talking about how cute she is and what a good baby she is and how much we love her, etc. we were also saying how we just like being around her all of the time. well, she must have heard us, because at four a.m. there she was, shrieking and wide awake, ready to start her day. i took her back to her room and walked and bounced and shhhh'd and sang and finally ignored her as she cried and cried and writhed in my arms. she would only stop for the occasional yawn just to let me know that this was wearing her out as well. i got her back to sleep after about an hour, but after just a few short minutes (or what felt like a few short minutes) back in our warm comfy bed, the baby monitor squawked out her teeny wake-up growls. mommy took the next shift, and through our combined efforts we were able to eradicate the taliban's presence in afghanistan, broker a peace accord between india and pakistan, and save the world from terrorism by hunting the perpetrators down in their evil dens of vile evilness, mission accomplished!

actually, not. but we were able to squeeze out about an hour and change more sleep for ourselves and our baby. just as good, as far as i'm concerned. seriously, who even knows where pakistan is?

at eight, i climbed out of bed with my little girl fastened to my hip, and entered the kitchen i had so neglected the night before. the rule at our house is that the person who makes dinner is absolved of dish-washing duty. since mommy does ninety-nine percent of the cooking, i'm the resident dish washer. and really, i don't mind. our dinners are delicious and better than most people's, and i find dish washing meditative. there's a start, a middle, and an end, and you can instantly see the fruits of your labor. and while your body does the work, your brain can go ride unicorns and converse with cloud-folk who pass their days pulling the sun across the sky and their nights guiding the moon back to her home. everyone has their fantasies, don't judge me.

where was i? ah yes, the dishes. we use bebe's exer-saucer to block off areas of the kitchen we don't want her to get to, usually the pantry. except early in the morning she likes to crawl down the hallway to our bedroom and bang on the door, knowing that mommy's inside trying to sleep. since i could only block one thru way, i had to pick my poison. and i figured that if i at least kept her in the kitchen, there was a chance she would find some way to entertain herself while i cleaned up. as opposed to having to chase her as she bolted for the bedroom, squealing "mam-a, mam-a!"

well, it's no secret that when kids are quiet they're up to no good.

found the toothpicks, did ya'?

at least she tried putting them back in the box. i think that's what she's doing.
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after the toothpicks, it was the tea shelf. so long as she wasn't eating the peeling paint off of my toolbox, sitting right behind her.

although i did look down at one point to see a toothpick dangling from her mouth, a la bob the bartender. it just sat there on her bottom lip as if to say "what'll it be, pal?"

hurricane beatrix, the aftermath.


not content to destroy a part of the kitchen, we moved into the dining room where there was a fresh basket of laundry to unfold.

thanks, face!