Hello from the land of the bay. San Francisco. Nick & Chloe & Max land. I landed here on Saturday & was going to take a short-ish walk from the BART station to their apartment, except I walked the wrong way on Mission Street for a while (a good while) so it turned out to be a long-ish walk after I got turned in the right direction.
A long-ish walk in San Francisco (even with (light) luggage) on a beautiful day is not too bad though. I did arrive, as the photo shows. Nick has Max in this clever device that just looks like an uber-long scarf but is actually a baby swaddler/carrier/guaranteed-sleeper...
Nice to have a guaranteed-sleeper, because Max can be a bit (grin) fussy when awake. He likes being bounced. Lots of bouncing. I brought some picture books in my little wheeled carry-on & he kinda sorta payed attention while being read to. As much as a month-old baby pays attention anyway.
I've been doing the Grammy thing: changing diapers (more on that later) & bouncing & walking/dancing/quietly-nonsense-singing around & around the apartment trying to make him unfussy, or at least quietly-fussy, so his parents can nap in the loft area upstairs & doing a few dishes & such.
They are not coffee persons so I went out to a coffee shop this morning to get a cup (& a refill). Chloe asked which coffee shop I was going to, with longing in her voice, so I offered to bring her something. Turned out she just liked the idea of going to a coffee shop. So, while I was there, at Bravado, which is nearby & has really cool lighting, I came up with a new rule: each of them has to get outside at least once a day, without the baby. They can go out together & come back separately if so desired, or head out alone, but there must be a little baby-free, fresh air time. Daily! Grammy's rule!
Nick balked a little when I informed him of it, saying, "but what if I want to take the baby along?" I told him he could do that, as well, but the rule stood. Chloe was all about it. Grin.
So, the promised diaper story:
Max had been pooping for a while--I could tell--so I decided to change him. Parents were napping. I set baby on changing mat & get to work. In the midst of it, as I am leaning over him, diligently wiping, a last squirt of soft, yellow baby poop erupts, catching me in the chest & also splatting down onto the changing mat. Fortunately it missed the couch & the soft fleecy pad thing under the changing mat, but I then had to try to wipe up the baby & myself & the mat--& then put on the new diaper without recontaminating. This took a few--quite a few--wipes. I even had to wipe the wipes, as I had poopifed the edges of the wipe dispenser. Oh, & in the midst of this he peed & I had to hurriedly raise the poopy diaper to catch the stream. What Grammy-tastic reflexes!
Then I had to transfer the fleecy pad to the floor & slip the poopy-edged mat out from under the baby & leave him to fuss a little while I went into the bathroom & divested myself of poopy night gown & scrubbed down a little & put on the long shirt I brought to be my robe & go reclaim the baby. It was an adventure. Parents got to sleep through it, mostly-ish.
It has been a day or two since I changed diapers, but I think I've got it. Grin. Nick--when I told him of the adventure--said, "You caught the 3rd stream! Only day 2 & you caught the 3rd stream." I certainly will wait longer next time the little critter is pooping to start the diapering procedure...
Blog alternative:
301. Go outside, just for the sake of going outside. Not on your way to somewhere. Just to breathe in some sunlight. (Or some rainlight, if that's what your weather is providing.)
