2004-01-05 - 2:34 p.m. - Cycle day:

My daughter, the traditionalist. She rang in the new year as naked as the iconic new year baby, thanks to an 11:55pm spit-up. As The Husband wryly noted, you know you're getting old when the only person puking on New Year's Eve is your kid.

This week is sort of a transition period. We don't have family all over to help with M, but The Husband is still on holiday break. I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes back to work full-time next week. Now that M. can move around and get herself into positions ranging from uncomfortable to dangerous, I have no idea how I'm going to get things done when the two of us are home alone. Even if she's peaceful and content, I can't put her in the crib during a conference call because she'll flip herself onto her stomach within minutes and start howling when she forgets how to unpin her arms. At the moment, I have the entire living room floor covered with blankets so she can wiggle and pivot without me having to readjust her every few minutes, but I can't leave her unsupervised in here because the blankets are too fluffy and her grasp is strong enough to pull them toward her mouth and nose just before she faceplants. I'm going to have to figure out some sort of childcare plan. I just don't know how to go about it. I don't need a full-on nanny since I'm in the house all the time, but during the hours I need help, the regular ol' early-teen babysitters are in school. It's a conundrum.

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