I've been having a pretty wonderful week, all things considered. Yesterday Blake & I went to our second swim lesson. Once again, we're not doing very well with the bubble blowing. But I did manage to keep his little thirsty face out of the water most of the class, and we practised his whole-body kicking in pursuit of a floating ball. It would've been the perfect class if a) I had been on time, b) I had remembered a towel, and c) Blake didn't pick his final moment in the water to spit up thick gobs of baby breakfast. That stuff doesn't dissolve, either. It just floats there, grossing out the pre-schoolers who are getting ready for their lesson. I felt really bad for our sweet little instructor; she can't be a day over 17 and she certainly isn't getting paid to clean up after my baby. Next time I'll get the skimmer myself instead of running away like a chastened preteen.

This afternoon was a more qualified success. After Baby Club, the Boy & baby & I set out to Kensington Market in search of one fabulous dress. Along the way we ate a lot of Chinese food and spent a surprising amount of money in an organic grocery store. (Organic foods punch a big whole in my budget, but the storytelling in me craves the long happy tales on the packaging. Also, the baby food is more appetizing.) While the adults were eating, Blake became hot & fussy, so I took him outside to nurse. The fatal flaw in my plan was the lack of benches anywhere in the vicinity. And that's how I ended up nursing Blake standing up at the corner of Spadina & Dundas. (P.S. It's impossible to nurse discreetly when you're standing up and your baby is a wiggler. Hello Chinatown! Welcome to my boobs!)

I think that the dress was worth it, however.

In the interests of full disclosure, I should note that as of yesterday I'm trying something difficult with Blake. It's not part of the No Cry Sleep Solution (or to be more accurate, it's in the last-ditch suggestions in the back). What I'm doing is this: I put Blake to bed at 7 p.m. with baths & stories & songs & cuddles & milk. When he wakes up at 9 p.m., I don't nurse him to sleep. Instead, I pick him up and rock him to sleep.

He hates it. Oh man, does he hate it. He screamed so loudly tonight that I thought his throat might explode. I've never heard him so outraged. But he falls asleep in my arms ten minutes later, and if tonight's anything like last night, he won't wake up again until 11 (which is when he's ready for even more milk.) If I can stay the course on this, I just might get him to sleep for four straight hours. That would be totally awesome.

And if it doesn't work, I can always go back to the quick & easy 9 p.m. nurse. Blake won't mind the reversion.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 7/15/2004 10:14:00 p.m.