Exercising with Baby

I was doing yoga today and Chris came in with Sam.  Sam took one look at me and burst out laughing, it was actually loud baby giggles.  It wasn't the first time.   Last week when I was doing Pilates, he crawled in and it was the same reaction.  Chris claims it's because Sam is "not used to seeing his mom move her body in that way."  I'm hoping that's the case ; )

Found around the house (at various times)

in the Kitty Litter:
1.)  one striped baby sock
2.)  one reflective mirror toy
3.)  one baby mitten- red
4.)  a nightlight
5.)  an annoyed kitty

on the stairs going to the front door (slid under the baby gate)
1.)  Buzz Light Year plastic cell phone (twice)
2.)  various blocks of different shapes and sizes
3.)  binkies (3 times)
4.)  a rolling pin
5.)  mom's Starbucks gift card
6.)  a birthday card
7.)  a wooden spoon

in the baby supply drawer
1.) Dad's car keys
2.)  blocks

in the coffee Keurig pod drawer
1.)  Mom's car keys
2.)  Buzz Light Year cell phone

in the toilet
1.)  bottle of shampoo
2.)  a rubber ducky

prevented from going in the toilet
1.)  car keys
2.)  Dad's Blackberry (work-phone)
3.)  blocks
4.)  a wooden spoon (apparently to mix what mum was using the toilet for)
5.)  the Starbucks gift card

Wooden Spoons & Salad Spinners

Some of the best baby toys we have are kitchen utensils.
The kitchen is a gathering place in our house and where we spend a lot of time.  When Sam first learned to pull up, he would go to the kitchen to pull the recipe books off of the card they were stored on and listen to them crash onto the floor (the poor downstairs tenants).  He liked to look at the colorful pictures in the illustrated ones as they fell into a pile at his feet.  When I watched a friend's baby the other day, she went straight to the recipe books and pulled them down.  Sam looked at her curiously as she took over his post.
We try to cook just about every night and Sam seems to like watching us.  He'd be happy if he were in my arms at all times while I made dinner, which obviously is a physical impossibility.  When he was a little guy, I'd wear him in the Baby Bjorn and at first he'd fall asleep on my chest while I cooked.  Then I turned him around and he'd watch the process.  When he started grabbing for utensils and food, those days were over.  Now he plays under us, or sits in the high chair while we cook. 
One of his favorite kitchen toys is the salad spinner.  When I wash lettuce, I put the spinner on the floor, and he pushes the knob down and delights in the cause and effect of the rotating lettuce.  This keeps him busy for a few minutes, at least until he takes off the lid and tries to remove the lettuce.  Lately, when he sees the spinner he gets excited and reaches for it.
He also likes to use wooden spoons to drum on the floor and the cabinets.  Sometimes he will watch me use one and try to mimic the action by rotating it in the air.  I tried to have him mix batter with me once, but it turned out to be a pretty messy endeavor, one better saved for when he is older.  Yesterday I explained to him that I would be "right back" and needed to use the bathroom.  Sam looked at me and crawled towards the bathroom with me, still clutching the wooden spoon.  He knelt in front of the toilet and showed me how he could mix with the spoon, and then headed toward me.  Then he stood and tried to mix the toilet water.
When I picked him up from a friend's the other day, he was stacking her plastic mixing bowls inside of one another and crawling around with her ring of measuring cups.

Caffeine is good

Sam knows his mom and dad like coffee.  He knows when we turn on the Keurig Coffeemaker and steam comes out, to say "ot" (translation:hot).  He knows that our mugs are not to touch.  He likes to pull the green straw out of my iced coffee to suck on and play with.  Some of Sam's first trips out of the house when he was an infant were to the local coffee shop and Starbucks.  They are both within walking distance and the spring he was born was beautiful and having a purpose to our strolls was nice.
Now that Sam is mobile, while I get dinner prepared, he is typically digging through the drawers and cabinets that are not baby-proofed.  Usually this involves a great deal of clattering and tossing of unbreakable kitchenware and baby supplies with me alternately following behind him putting things back & cooking.  Lately he has been pulling open the drawer containing the little Keurig pods, which are about three inches high, cylindrical plastic with sturdy pull-back, foil lids.  They are a nice, quiet alternative to the crashing aluminum bakeware, they can roll, and when he is especially focused, he can stack a few.  However, I should know by now that quiet is not always good.
Last night when I glanced down, he grinned back up at me with a grimy mouth and a Keurig pod in one hand.  He had managed to puncture the soft top and dig into the coffee grounds.  The grounds were apparently a new tasty snack because as I watched his pudgy fingers dug in for more and went straight to his mouth.  I held out my hand for the pod and he willing passed it over, then head-dove into my legs, rubbing coffee into my khaki work pants.  (After snapping a photo & probably encouraging the activity) I wiped his face and got back to cooking, thinking that it was a fluke that he had managed to open the pod .  I kept my eye on him and quickly came to the conclusion, this was not a fluke.  Sam had secured another pod in his little fist and gnawed on the top with his two teeth.  Once he had managed to break the surface he poked his index finger into the opening, widened it, and dug in.  This time he did not hand over the pod willingly, or happily.  By the time I had retrieved the washcloth for his face, he was licking his lips and sucking his fingers, savoring the bitter grinds.  Time to childproof another drawer and watch for when he makes a connection between the pods, machine, and end product of coffee.
Needless to say, Sam was not ready for bed for a long time.

Storing Important Things

"Just in case you're looking for anything important, Mummy."

Saturday night

Not so long ago I would have been out on a Saturday night, at least at a friend's, dinner, or a local bar.  Last Saturday night we were home playing Scrabble.  Which was fun.  I might add that I won by about 20 points, but it could have been an addition error.  This Saturday we had my husband's friend for dinner, then they went out to play some pool, and I was reading on the couch, contemplating going to bed.  I heard a large truck outside and vaguely thought it might be an oil delivery in the neighborhood and looked at the reflection in the window.  It definitely wasn't an oil truck, instead, some sort of truck with a long platform bed, backing up to retrieve a car parked in front of my neighbor's house.  It belongs to a tenant of the house across the street.  The police were behind the truck, blocking the street, though I'm not sure why.  No one could actually have attempted to go around it, but the cop seemed pretty serious about his job, legs straddled, approaching any car who thought about waiting out the situation.
My husband likes to watch the repo show on TV.  The one with the colorful characters who usually get into arguments on the job, picking up the cars.  I watched it too occasionally, until I saw the disclosure that revealed possible "dramatization," and then it just wasn't as appealing.
I was dually thinking about Sam missing the big truck that he would have watched for a good twenty minutes and lamenting the fact that my Saturday nights were now watching the car be repossessed, at home with the baby sleeping, when I realized that my car was still safe in the driveway, and that perhaps this car's owner was out at a bar, and would return to discover her car gone.  I stood for a while hoping the owner was okay, thinking I hadn't seen her in a while.
Big trucks and sleeping babies, I'd much rather be home, cozy on the couch, with my book, and cat curled at my feet.

Time Change

We set the clocks forward, losing an hour of sleep.  I was prepared for an easy week waking up for work, in a quiet house, getting ready with minimal interruptions (read sleeping baby).  My alarm is set to go off at 5:40.  On Sunday, Sam woke up at 6 am (really 5 am).  I thought it was a fluke and figured the work week would be different.  On Monday morning at 5:15 am I heard a little cry, Sam was ready for his day, and exhausted by the time he had to leave house at 7 am.  The same thing the next day more or less.  His internal clock overly prepared   for the time change.  I am still adjusting.

Cat food

Apparently cat food is a very tasty treat, according to Sam.  When I put him down in the morning, the first thing he does is crawl at a rapid speed towards it.  Annie, the cat, is patient with him.  She kind of looks at him with a "there goes my peaceful meal" type of expression and then as she is crowded out of the way, she will try to eat around his chubby little hand.  We have tried putting the cat food on the other side of the baby gate, which Annie can jump over, but refuses to if her food is relocated.  We tried moving it to another spot in the kitchen.  She tolerated that move, but after he goes to bed will meow until it is returned to it's orginal spot.  Most of the day the cat food is up on a counter, with the water bowl.  Annie has now taken to drinking out of any other standing body of water in the house, a saucepan soaking, water pooled in the kitchen sink, and if we're not vigilant, the toilet.  Sam knows exactly where her food is during the day and will stand on his tippy-toes reaching for it.  It is crunchy and looks pretty salty, maybe he's onto something.