"First it started to fall over, then it fell over."
Abbie returned home yesterday just in time to visit a baby shower with us. On one hand, this was not a smart thing to do since she would doubtless be cranky from the long car ride and harder to control than Kenny Rogers at a press conference. On the other hand, her crankiness would create a perfect excuse to leave early, not that we didn’t like these people, but Ellie literally had just returned home and still needed to accomplish important post-journey tasks like unloading her truck and taking a two-hour nap.
We walked to a nearby home, and just as predicted, Abbie soon degenerated to a whining mess. Looking back, I must have wanted this to happen since I left her diaper bag at home, and her diaper bag contains everything I use to entertain her away from home: Her books, her toys, her Tasteeos, and once I get desperate enough, her diapers. The baby shower offered very little to entertain her, too. Often at a party, I can limit her protests by keeping food in her mouth, but the only food at this party was small hard objects like nuts, pastel mints, and M&M’s, or as we in the business call them, airway blockers. They also had cake, but it seemed a little rude to commandeer a piece to feed her before the hosts had even cut it, plus keeping her quiet by shoveling her full of lard and sugar would likely be a short-lived and counterproductive endeavor.
With nothing for entertainment, we had to create our own fun. For Abbie, this means exploring. As long as she feels comfortable, she can entertain herself in strange locations for long stretches of time, as much as three minutes or more, just by wandering around the place. She’ll walk in a circle around the perimeter of the room examining the walls, and by the time she returns to her starting point, much like a goldfish swimming circles in a bowl, she’ll have forgotten everything she just saw, which allows her to circle the room and experience it again for the first time. I led her into the kitchen since it was pretty devoid of people except for the occasional passer-through and a mother trying to entertain her two young boys. The house we visited had no resident children, so I needed to keep a close eye on Abbie for her protection, and the protection of anything at Abbie-level. She quickly ran a couple of laps around the kitchen, taking note of interesting objects as she passed them (“Hey, a stove! Hey, a trash can! Hey, a refrigerator! Hey, a stove!”). By this time, she had been awake for a couple hours and was getting awfully tired, leaving her wobbly on her feet. She normally falls a lot while walking, but when tired she falls even more. Falling while walking usually doesn’t bother her unless she does something especially painful when she lands like hit her head on something; she usually just rises back to her feet and continues walking. I let her walk and fall undisturbed for a little while at the shower, then she hit her head on the refrigerator and we intervened to calm her back down. That should have been my cue to take her home, but once calm I let her walk and fall some more, and sure enough she quickly hit her head on the corner of a metal furnace vent. That one really ticked her off, and judging from the glowing red mark on her forehead, she had every right to scream. We took her outside to calm her this time, and it required several songs and dances to take her mind off the horrible throbbing pain long enough to stop crying. I finally got the hint and we announced it was time to leave. I felt a little guilty since everyone seemed much more concerned about her head trauma than I was; somehow answering “bah, she does that all the time” felt like child neglect. I shrugged it off and we walked back home to unload the truck and take our naps.
We walked to a nearby home, and just as predicted, Abbie soon degenerated to a whining mess. Looking back, I must have wanted this to happen since I left her diaper bag at home, and her diaper bag contains everything I use to entertain her away from home: Her books, her toys, her Tasteeos, and once I get desperate enough, her diapers. The baby shower offered very little to entertain her, too. Often at a party, I can limit her protests by keeping food in her mouth, but the only food at this party was small hard objects like nuts, pastel mints, and M&M’s, or as we in the business call them, airway blockers. They also had cake, but it seemed a little rude to commandeer a piece to feed her before the hosts had even cut it, plus keeping her quiet by shoveling her full of lard and sugar would likely be a short-lived and counterproductive endeavor.
With nothing for entertainment, we had to create our own fun. For Abbie, this means exploring. As long as she feels comfortable, she can entertain herself in strange locations for long stretches of time, as much as three minutes or more, just by wandering around the place. She’ll walk in a circle around the perimeter of the room examining the walls, and by the time she returns to her starting point, much like a goldfish swimming circles in a bowl, she’ll have forgotten everything she just saw, which allows her to circle the room and experience it again for the first time. I led her into the kitchen since it was pretty devoid of people except for the occasional passer-through and a mother trying to entertain her two young boys. The house we visited had no resident children, so I needed to keep a close eye on Abbie for her protection, and the protection of anything at Abbie-level. She quickly ran a couple of laps around the kitchen, taking note of interesting objects as she passed them (“Hey, a stove! Hey, a trash can! Hey, a refrigerator! Hey, a stove!”). By this time, she had been awake for a couple hours and was getting awfully tired, leaving her wobbly on her feet. She normally falls a lot while walking, but when tired she falls even more. Falling while walking usually doesn’t bother her unless she does something especially painful when she lands like hit her head on something; she usually just rises back to her feet and continues walking. I let her walk and fall undisturbed for a little while at the shower, then she hit her head on the refrigerator and we intervened to calm her back down. That should have been my cue to take her home, but once calm I let her walk and fall some more, and sure enough she quickly hit her head on the corner of a metal furnace vent. That one really ticked her off, and judging from the glowing red mark on her forehead, she had every right to scream. We took her outside to calm her this time, and it required several songs and dances to take her mind off the horrible throbbing pain long enough to stop crying. I finally got the hint and we announced it was time to leave. I felt a little guilty since everyone seemed much more concerned about her head trauma than I was; somehow answering “bah, she does that all the time” felt like child neglect. I shrugged it off and we walked back home to unload the truck and take our naps.
posted by Matt at
9:26 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home