I don’t think P’ito wants us to use cloth diapers. Note: if you are not interested in reading more about my son’s digestive system, please don’t read beyond the break!
Onto more pleasant topics. Today Pepito: climbed all the way up the stairs (15 steps), pulled up in his crib for the first time, and took a couple of little steps holding onto a chair. Any bets on how long it takes him to go hands-free?
Current favorite pastime: blowing baby food raspberries all over mama. I’ve taken to feeding him sans glasses so that they don’t get covered in organic turkey-vegetable dinner.
Today’s terrifying accomplishment:
Yes, he’s on the stairs. No, I didn’t put him there. Yes, he’s not quite nine months old.
Emailed to Sears.Com. I am going to say SEARS SEARS SEARS as many times as possible in this post so that people who are searching for SEARS APPLIANCE REPAIR come across this instead!
Dear Sears Appliance Repair:
Yesterday morning, I called Sears to schedule a repair visit for my fridge, which was not cooling. After turning down an extremely unpleasant hard sell to prepay for the repairs, I was assured that an appointment was available today, and a repairman would call me to schedule. By the time it was clear that no repairman was going to call or show up, it was too late for me to schedule an appt with another company and I had a fridge full of spoiled food.
When I called Sears, I was told that “someone should have called me” to tell me that no one was coming, and that the next available appt was on Saturday! As far as I am concerned, Sears is responsible for over $200 worth of groceries going to waste. I called a different repair company this morning and had a serviceman present within the hour.
I have been a loyal customer of Sears for many years now, but will never purchase or repair another appliance with you again, and will advise all my friends and relatives to do the same. Your name is now mud in my book.
p.s. Pepito is pissed at Sears too.
Of course (this is our life we’re talking about) this couldn’t happen without complications…
On Thursday night, after our fabulous Guatemalan playdate (pictures coming soon, I promise) I came down with a serious case of Tecún Umán’s revenge. The only thing I ate on Thursday that Pili did not also partake of was a limonada con soda at Cafe Condessa. Antiguans, consider yourself warned. Pili was left to pack all of our bags and care for the baby while I lay in bed, moaning and upchucking. [Note: Not fun for anyone, downright scary for a Person With Diabetes. Bernard’s gift of gatorade powder was much appreciated]
In desperation, she called Delta and tried to see if we could rebook our flights for a day or two later to give me time to recuperate. Unfortunately the pinche rented cell phone cut out while she was on hold with the Delta representative, and we assumed that nothing had been changed, and we would go ahead with our travel plans, barf bags in hand.
[12 hours later. Location: The Guatemala City airport, Delta ticket counter]
Pepito, far more socially adept than either of his mothers, smiles and flirts with the ticket agent. She studiously ignores him – hay un problema con su reservación. Turns out that the Delta rep had actually changed the flight. We are now scheduled to leave GC on Sunday! The agent is able to get us back on the Friday flight to Atlanta, but there are no seats available to our home on the connecting flight. We can stay overnight in Atlanta and get on an early morning flight on Saturday. Pili bravely holds down the fort. ArtSweet, bent over a garbage can in the airport, weakly signals her approval of this plan. Pepito, failing to get the ticket agent’s attention, throws his lovie (thank you, auntie Mel!) at her and clocks her in the jaw. She allows as how Él es un carácter.
P’ito is a trooper on the flight. Take off and landing is no problem, but sitting in one place when the seatbelt sign is on is cause for a meltdown of nuclear proportions. Fortunately the missionaries sitting behind us are tolerant and Guatemalans love children, even when they’re screaming at the top of their lungs.
We land and clear immigration, where he officially becomes a U.S. citizen, with no problems, and then spend two hours trying to exit the Atlanta airport and get to our hotel. These hours include the Worst Poopy Diaper Ever and the Skankiest Changing Station Ever – at least according to Pili. I was sitting on the luggage cart, clutching my still aching head, and wondering what the hell was taking so long while she attempted to figure out how that clever baby got poop everywhere.
We get to the hotel, where I eat solid food for the first time in 36 hours. Miraculously, it stays down. Sleep for five hours, and get up to race back to the world’s most complicated airport. Arrive home, after a less than pleasant flight on a small plane with a teething baby, to a fabulous greeting team from our hometown friends, and a home festooned with “It’s a boy!” and “Welcome home!” banners.
Photos, a report on P’ito’s first playdate, a bunch of memes, and some serious blog commenting coming later… off to make a bottle – with water from the tap! It’s amazing what you learn to appreciate…
Writing from the crappy keyboarded internet cafe again…
We have been having a great time just hanging out with Pepito. After a few minutes of worried looks, he seemed to remember us, and has been just an absolute joy 99.8% of the time since. He is babbling ga-ga and da-da and the occasional sound that I try desperately to interpret as ma-ma. And (the cats are so screwed) the child is full-on crawling.
Pili & Pepito survived their embasy appt today and the visa will be issued tomorrow… Despite wking up at 4am to get to the appt, P´ito charmed everyone in the waiting room with his antics and then came home and turned into a never-nap crazy boy.
We are beyond thrilled to be within a breath of being through. Tomorrow we get the visa, and Friday… we go home.
con besitos de guatemala…
We had dinner tonight with two of our closet friends here in the City That Always Sleeps.
They wanted to hang out with us one more time before Pepito* arrives home.
They’re thrilled for us – at the same time as they’re deeply ambivalent, especially one of them. Afraid of losing our friendship, afraid that it will always be all baby all the time and they’ll be left out.
I’m scared too. I don’t want to lose their friendship or my ability to complete a sentence that doesn’t have to do with bodily fluids. I’m scared that we’ll be swept away on the carpet of societal expectations and norms. And I’m scared of how much Pili seems sometimes to relish the thought of fulfilling those expectations – but of course we’ll need a minivan! She says this half-joking, and because she knows the thought makes me wince, but I feel like there’s a morsel of truth to the idea that she wants to lose herself in playing this new role to the hilt, complete with all its trappings.
I can’t wait to be Pepito’s mom: I still want to be more than Pepito’s mom. Can I be a hip indie mom if I haven’t really been a hip indie non-mom? How do we find the line between it’s new he’s going to fuss and WE MUST STOP DOING THIS NOW he’s crying?
I don’t really feel fine and I don’t know if those post is really making much sense. But I’m going to post it and see if anyone at least gets the REM reference…
*Now that he’s coming home, I felt like he needed a nickname that was exclusively his.
Is now looking more and more like a nursery.
It’s got a bright red crib*.
We bought a car seat and had it installed (in the car).
Then we bought a dresser, and had to uninstall the carseat to get the dresser in the backseat.
Idli seems a little nervous.
Bart is oblivious.
One week until he’s back in our arms, for good, and everything changes.
*Yes, we painted the crib. We used this fantastic paint. You tell them the brand, name, and color number of the color you want, and they ship you (free fedex shipping) a no-VOC version of the paint.