Where does the time go?

I was thinking last night about ice cream--not in the traditional sense, mind you, but metaphorically so. I was thinking of how they make that bizarre mish-mash with the remainder bits of all the different flavours, a riotous mix of colours and textures that really only kids or the very brave are willing to try. I've been feeling a lot like that kind of ice cream lately, all mixed up, no particular flavour, a melange of everything. I've had ideas for writing, but nothing concrete, no solid thread to guide me. I'm sort of all over the map with respect to my life in general right now, somedays I don't know if I'm coming or going.

As usual, I am loving life with Nahanni, she is an amazing and fun little girl. Now that doesn't mean it's always a picnic, but I certainly cannot complain. People keep asking me if I'm sleeping and I guess that writing here certainly has given the impression that her sleep isn't very good, which I think is a bit misleading. It's like with my old journals that I kept regularly throughout university and beyond, how even while living in the 5th arrondisement in beautiful Paris it would seem by my journals that I was constantly miserable--it's not that it's true, it's just that's when I tended to write. Melancholy is often the ink that fills my pen, and is always the easiest thing to talk about. So, when things are going swimmingly, I suppose there is less to write about, but when it hits the fan, those keys start a-clickin'. We've had some up and downs with sleeping, as with any baby (if you say not your baby, I suspect you're lying...or misremembering) and lately I think it's due to a new tooth I can see cutting - her upper left incisor. A bit out of order, but nonetheless, she's coming in. For the most part, I think Nahanni has been a superstar for sleeping and I'm very proud of her - she always puts herself to sleep in the day and as a rule needs very little help at night--usually. Of course, the other night we had a series of exceptions to that peaceful rule, including two nights ago where we had out first cry-it-out. Now, I know I said I'd never do it, and really, I haven't--it was sort of an acquiesced 'we give up' cry-it-out, mixed with a 'we are too busy arguing to go in and get you right now' cry-it-out. Have you tried the latter method? I highly recommend it as it makes the whole screaming-till-they-fall-asleep thing much more bearable. Here are the instructions for this method:

a) put teething baby to sleep
b) have teething baby wake after 1/2 hour
c) have baby work herself into a lather from which no one can return her, regardless of action
d) give up and put her in her crib

** next step crucial**

e) start talking about money
f) argue vociferously over the sound of the crying baby
g) realize after ten minutes that baby has finally given up and gone to sleep

See! Wasn't that so much easier than simply listening to her cry?

Now I'm not saying to use this method all the time, as it will be stressful for all involved, but hey, if you've got to do it, why not try such a successful distraction? If you don't have issues with money (again, either lying or misremembering, I'm sure) then please feel free to substitute rememberances of past affairs or complaints about immediate family, as they should work equally well.

Otherwise, we continue to grow and grow. Nahanni is forever getting too big for things and it makes me sad every time I have to pack away some favourite outfit; like saying goodbye to another piece of my tiny baby. It seems many days I can scarcely remember her when she was just a tiny little thing, no heavier than a a half jug of milk in my arms. Now she's eating solid foods like a champ, and with a very brave palate, I think. I've been making her lots of organic baby foods, casseroles and the like and she will eat them with garlic and onions and herbs in them, which I think sis very good for a new eater. It's so cute to feed her as she proclaims her feelings throughout the meal with many 'Hmm!'s and 'Yumm!'s, delighting in every mouthful of food; hopefully a future epicurean like her parents. It's particularly funny to see her little face when she gets a new mouthful of something that she is unsure. I always tell her what the spoonful is before I put it in (seems only fair) and when it is new or she doesn't like the texture or flavour she raises her eyes to look at me, the most incredulous look on her face as if to say 'You're kidding me, right?'-- it cracks me up. I love to sit her in her bumbo in the kitchen as she gnaws on a large frozen carrot while I cook away making her little meals. We sing and talk and I explain the pieces to her and I hope that in her fondest memories will be moments like these, of our family together in the kitchen, the smell of garlic and onions frying heavy in the air, redolent of meals enjoyed and time savoured.