Tales from the Crib

One blankey cleaned, twice

The Ramsay family has survived its first camping trip, even if we’re all a little worse for the wear.

Each summer, during the Civic long weekend, we head to the same campground in Parry Sound. This year was the first time we’d be bringing baby. It meant packing the extra baby gear into the car, along with the tent, camp chairs and other essentials.

I got the car ready during the day while we waited for hubby’s arrival home from work.
Once we were ready to hit the road, Nolan started to fuss as I put him into his car seat.
He doesn’t normally fuss, so that should’ve been a warning.

Earlier in the day, he had thrown up while napping, after eating raspberries. With red everywhere in his crib, I had already done a load of laundry to try and catch the stain before it set.

That meant washing his wool blankey, which is becoming his security item.
It was left outside to dry and was packed back into his camping bag along with his clothes.

So when he started to fuss in the car seat on the trip north, I gave him his blankey and soother to get him to settle.
He still fussed for a half hour, then became quiet.

Suddenly, a smell filled the car, and it wasn’t coming from outside. Then he started to cry again. “Did he puke?” I asked hubby.

A quick glance back gave us the answer. And it was on his blankey again.

So we pulled the car over and grabbed a towel to wipe him and the car seat off. I’ve never known a baby to be a silent puker, so it was strange not to get any warning signs of him being sick.

We ended up going back home that night. This was the first time Nolan’s been sick like that and I didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere if we needed to go to the hospital, in case he had a fever.
Besides, blankey needed to be washed. Again.

When it was dry, we tucked Nolan into bed. He must’ve felt better then, because he slept through the night.
Our camping trip started once again the next morning with blankey in hand, and the rest of it went as planned. Now blankey has the slight smell of a campfire, but I'm not washing it again. It’s still good for snuggling.

Peas, please

Eating peas.

Who knew that eating something as small as a little green pea could make a person so happy?
My son has just found a bit more independence as he starts to eat food by himself. And peas have made it to the top of the list as one of his favourites.

Personally, I don't really like peas, but eat a spoonful every now and then as a side dish, to try and get my quota of veggies in. Trying to be a diligent mother, I have to encourage him to eat things that are “good for him.”

And it's easy enough to put a handful of cooked peas onto his high chair tray.

The only problem is once he starts to feed himself, it doesn't all make it to his mouth. So then I’ve got peas on the floor and in the folds of his clothes. Mushed into his hair and squashed into the cracks of his high chair.

The other day, I found a hard one that had rolled under the dishwasher. It was a few days old by then. I’m not sure if that says something about my son’s hand-eye co-ordination or my cleaning habits.

I know there’s more mess to come, but I’m not looking forward to it.

Well, at least I know he’s making progress from the pea puree I used to make.

And when he’s a teenager and eating everything in my cupboards, I’m sure I’ll look back to this time when all he needed was a few peas to keep him happy, and wonder why he had to keep growing up.