Just in case you were wondering, Part II

Marley Ate Poop Today.

Dog poop, to be exact.

When we got home from Stroller Strides this morning, I noticed a foul stench radiating from the general direction of her nursery. Had I forgotten to close the top of the Diaper Genie?

Alas, it was dog poop! Pagoda, our Pekingese, had left a nice little steamer in the middle of her nursery. He had been eating a lot of her food lately. Marley loves dumping half of her breakfast over the side of her high chair to see what Pagoda will eat. This morning it was scrambled eggs and blueberry pancakes. A LOT of blueberry pancakes. Needless to say, it was very stinky.

I cleaned the poop up, and thought I had everything under control. A few minutes later, I noticed that Marley was playing in her nursery again...very quietly. Immediately suspicious, I walked in and found her smiling and swinging another piece of poop around. Sick! Turns out Pagoda had left another nice little pile behind her rocking chair. I hadn't seen it before. And, there was poop on her mouth. She had taken a bite! SICK!!!! Didn't seem to bother her too much though, because she just stood there, laughing.

Just in Case You Were Wondering...

Marley and the Four Seasons

Marley is quite taken with the "Four Seasons" by Vivaldi. I started playing the CD in her room to calm her during diaper changes. In fact, she's grown to expect classical music every time I change her diaper. And she always lets me know if I forget to turn it on. By screaming, of course--her preferred method of communication.

Vivaldi has even become part of our nighttime routine. When 7:30pm rolls around, I'll say, "Marley...it's sleepy time," and I'll make the sign for "sleepy." She'll woefully look up from whatever she's doing, and reluctantly trudge towards her room. She'll turn and make one last pause, mournfully waving goodbye to whoever is up in the living room. She'll walk right up to her crib and reach up her arms, waiting to be lifted into her bed. I'll play the last song on the Vivaldi CD and kiss her goodnight. She'll stand up, again sorrowful and sad, and give me one last, woeful wave as I close the nursery door, leaving her to the music and the night.

Birth of a Blog

“You need to write about this--this mommy stuff,” said my friend Maxine, as she poured herself another glass of wine. “You’re not afraid to tell it like it is.”

“Really?” I said, pouring some wine for myself. “You think people want to read about my hemorrhoids?"