Here's To Silly!

Today I woke up to a severed horse's head in my bed.  Speaking figuratively, of course.  You may recall my discussion of courage a while back.  I have continued to wear large and dangley earrings, and Wonderman has continued to, well, wonder at my brazenness. 

After my shower today, I put in a pair of large plastic hoops - you know the kind, it was the type that made me wish I had pierced ears in the 80s.  They are not just large, but also zebra-striped, which just adds to their awesomeness.  As I put the soft plastic back on the post I thought out loud to myself, "Bean will probably think these are great toys, placed in reach just for her," and then continued on to put the second earring in.  I had been wearing them for perhaps ten minutes before her grabby little hands reached upwards.  I knew her intentions when I both felt and heard her warm breath in my ear.  Luckily the back was so soft it was super easy for her to pull out and start chewing on.  No harm, no foul.  So I switched earrings. 

I put in a pair that was not small, but not garish by any standard.  They were on fish hooks.  I've worn them lots and lots of time since Bean came on the scene.  They were my safe choice.  Then, while I leaned over Bean this afternoon, the term "safe" was erased from their description.  She caught hold and pulled mightily very, very quickly (before this she's always been a fairly slow, gentle, and exploratory grabber of earrings).  She pulled the jewelry quite out of my ear.  It hurt a little, but nothing serious.  That is, until I saw the earring.  The hook was completely bent in a very un-fishhook like manner.  I realized at that moment that her strength is ever increasing, and it was sheer chance of angle that allowed her to merely bend the hook rather than tearing my earlobe clear through.  Sigh.  I surrender.  Looks like it's a decade (depending on the number of children and their spacing, of course) of dowdy earring for me, coming up. 

Conclusion:  David is not the only little person to face off with a giant and win.

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This has nothing to do with my hippie card.

At least once a day, Bean and I look in the mirror and I say some version of this:  "Do you see the baby in the mirror?  Look at the baby in the mirror.  That's such a cute baby in the mirror, huh?  Can you say 'hi' to the baby in the mirror?"  After repeating the phrase "baby in the mirror" that many times, about 98% of the time I end up with the chorus from this song in my head:
It's not a bad song.  In fact, it's kind of a good song.  It's inspiring and all.  I still don't love having it in my head all day, every day.  I'm not exactly sure how to acquaint Bean with her mirror self without getting it in my head, however.  And so it continues.

Conclusion:  The King of Pop continue to reign.

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First off - strollers.  We bought an umbrella stroller from some friends who were leaving the island so we would have "something," just in case.  I tried it out a few weeks back.  Bean loved it.  Until she got absolutely sun-fried.  I wisely saw some pros and some cons (the decision to use it came about because I needed to go to campus and help out with a fundraiser and needed more movement than the sling would give me but wouldn't have anywhere to put Bean, so I figured it would work to just have her hang out sitting in the stroller for a while.  That part of it worked like a charm.  So did the quietly strolling her to sleep while we waited for Wonderman to finish his business up on campus so he could walk home with us).  Still, the flaming red skin kept at bay all further thoughts of strolling.  Until I got the heat rash from hell all down my front after wearing her in the sling through a long, hot day (I mean, everyone with boobs gets at least a little boob sweat, right?  The sling takes that to the Nth degree and then gets it running all down my belly and then holds it there).  I realized that another semester (in the summer) here without a stroller might not go well.  I contacted my sister-in-law who had offered us her jogging stroller clear back in December (I turned it down, holding firmly to my hippie ideals and thinking I didn't want to "deal with" a stroller), who told me she had kept it, just waiting for me to want it.  Ooooh, that made me feel angry? sheepish? GRATEFUL.  Anyway, it's on its way (with a camera in its pocket - hooray!!!).  It's big and bulky and folds down to a very small size (i.e. about equivalent to the size of Rhode Island).  It's exactly what I imagined I would never own.  But it's exactly what I need (just today as I walked home with a sleeping baby in the sling and about 30 pounds of groceries in my hands I thought, I really need a stroller, even if it's just to put the groceries in - they can make the 20 min. walk home seem so much longer).

I'm already having separation anxiety, just thinking about putting Bean in a stroller instead of a sling (this has made me wonder if attachment parenting in my case is more about me not being able to be separated from Bean that about her needing me).  I can't imagine having her that far away from me for that long, that often.  I am, quite literally, very attached to her.  I also have a strange sense of pride when I get asked "You don't have a stroller, do you?  I've never seen you use one."  I also know that I get recognized because of my beautiful sling and the adorable baby with the aqua-colored sunhat walking all over town, if not for my own stunning beauty.  Once I get a stroller, I'll just blend in with all the other mommies.  The American mommies, anyway.  Very few Dominicans use prams, as they call them.  They don't wear their babies, either.  They just carry them.  That seems difficult and wildly impractical to me, but it is the way of things.  Anyway, I'll only have my own good looks to set me apart, and in the tropics in the summer time, even those get muddled a bit.  Sigh.  Here's to the ladies who stroll!

Conclusion:  Humble Pie isn't nearly as good as dutch apple or lemon meringue, but apparently it's quite nutritious.

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Guess what?  It turns out that I only have time to keep up with reading all the blogs I've added to my reader or to post on my own blog.  Should you be someone who notices when something shows up here, you are aware of what my choice has been lately.  Sigh.  Can I blame part of that on my lack of a camera with which to take adorable pictures of my sweet love, Bean?  She is my inspiration and all.  That's at least part of the problem.  The other part is just me being swamped with reading other people's stuff.  Not only do I do it for educational purposes, but I also have a group of imaginary virtual friends, see.  They're real people, but I like to imagine they're my friends.  They are awesome.  My sister says to comment on their blogs and we can become real friends, but I am not very good at that yet.  I've made a few forays out of my lurking corner, but no fast friendships of eternal consequence have emerged.  Still, I feel obligated (wildly curious?) to know how things are going on their side of the world.  Plus I have to know what my sister/cousin/aunt/college roommate is posting.  It's all pretty important.  Anyway, here I am.  And I'm having a bit of a crisis.  Wonderman says I'm going to have to turn in my hippie card.  There are a few issues at hand.  Updates coming soon.  Probably.

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