Hand Over the Purell

I am not a germaphobe. I have a whole list of other neuroses (read our archives if you don’t believe me), but germaphobic-ness is not among them. I typically ascribe to the “that which does not kill you” philosophy about germs.

However.

My kids have a way of finding the absolute grossest item in a ten-mile radius, and touching, licking, or generally wallowing in it. And it is about enough to send me over the edge.

We went out of town this past weekend, and I don’t know if it was just that I was a hormonal mess or that things seem grosser away from home, but seriously my kids were killing me with all the nasty things they were doing. First of all, we ate in a lot of restaurants, obviously, and even on a good day, restaurant high chairs make me cringe. So I felt like Sammy was a giant germ cesspool from that alone. (Yes, I have a Floppy Seat and yes, I was diligent about it when Kate was little, but alas it remains in a closet somewhere with the rest of the we’re-awesome-first-time-parents paraphernalia.) When we got to our hotel room, I just had to pop a Xanax and come to terms with the fact that I could not prevent him from crawling on the floor for our entire four-day stay.

And Kate. That girl has always been a magnet for disgusting. She spent the weekend laying down on the bench seat at Burger King and not just holding but lovingly stroking the handrails at Busch Stadium.

Seriously, the day she decides that touching the toilet seat is not absolutely crucial to the getting-off-the-potty process will be one of the proudest days of my life.

At one point I turned to Andy and said “I don’t know how real germaphobes ever leave the house, because I am about to have an anxiety attack.”

But I’m not a germaphobe. For real. You believe me, right?

Damn. Add that one to the list too.

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It’s Almost Over.

I think Sammy is weaning himself.

He’s nearly 15 months old, and I know I should be prepared for this and ready for it to happen, but quite honestly I’m not. It makes me sad to think that he’s getting so big and that he’s not an infant anymore. I logically know this is true, but still, he is my baby.

We’ve been down to just nursing at night and sometimes in the mornings (when I’m trying to get a few more minutes of shut-eye), but lately Sammy hasn’t been nursing in very long stints – something much more exciting is always going on around him, and he’s soon ready to crawl off to find a ball or play with his sister. And the number one sign he’s just not that into it anymore – he doesn’t point and squeal at my laptop the way he used to when he wanted to nurse. (What? He thinks my laptop is somehow related to the nursing process, since it’s omnipresent when we sit down on the couch. Is that not normal??)

Tonight he was super tired and ready for bed, but I wanted to nurse him to sleep. I don’t normally do that, but tonight I wanted to pay attention, to make sure I remembered this night if in fact it turned out to be the last time he nursed. So we sat in the rocking chair in his room as we’ve done so many times before, and I just stared at him, trying to burn his soft little baby face into my memory. I want to remember everything about him.

He is my baby.

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Sammy Chatter

All of the sudden, almost over night, it seems like Sammy is talking a lot! It sounds weird to say “it seems” because he is talking a lot, but since he is the second child and I have no time to read weekly “Here’s what your kid should be doing” emails from Babycenter, I have no idea if he’s actually talking a lot for a 14-month-old or not. And contrary to my type-A neurotic personality, I don’t really care.

He is talking a lot for him, anyway, and it is SO CUTE.

He’s been saying “Mama,” “Dada,” and – his favorite – “ball” for several months now, but now his vocabulary has expanded to include “night night,” “down,” “Daisy” (his sitter’s dog), “Papa,” umm…. and other stuff that I can’t think of right now.

It’s so exciting to watch his speech develop, because it seems like he’s saying something, or several things, new every day. Last night was the first time I ever got him to perform – I’d ask him to say one of his words and he’d repeat it. This morning, when he woke up and I went to get him out of his crib, and he said “I want down” plain as day. I said “You want down?” and he said “I want down.” So I did this several more times until he looked at me like “Seriously lady, how many times do I have to tell you?”

He’s so smart and so cute. (yes, I know I’m his mom.) He still can’t walk.

But the boy can dance.

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