Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Don't Mess with Baby

I know the more common saying is "Don't mess with Texas", but in our house, it refers to Caroline's baby, rather than Texas.  Let me explain.

If you have been around Caroline, or just viewed pictures of her, chances are you have noticed one constant in an overwhelming majority of them:  her pink baby doll.  When Caroline was about 4 months old, my dad came to spend the night with us on his way to Ft. Worth.  Not wanting to show up empty-handed (against the law in Papa-Land), he stopped at good ol' Wally World and picked up the now infamous "Baby" (clever name, I know).  Little did he know that he had started something. 

Even though she was really little, Caroline loved Baby:

*Side Note:  It is SO weird to see her that little again..... And to think that I'm going to have another one soon...

 Her infatuation only grew from there.  In the beginning, she would just sleep with Baby.  But as time has gone by, she and Baby have become inseparable. 

Baby joins us on every outing, and I do mean EVERY outing. 

Even if she doesn't have a death-grip on Baby, she is always near:

Recently, Caroline's obsession with Baby has gone into over-drive.  Not only does she insist on eating dinner with her, but she has been trying to take her into the bathtub and swimming pool as well. So now, when Caroline takes a bath, Baby has to sit up on the edge of the tub and "watch" her.  Yes, I now take orders from a tiny dictator.  At least she is cute.

(I know, I know, I am super cool with my Sepia-toned pic....  Okay, so really, I changed it to keep you all from gasping in horror at our turquoise blue bathroom.  Yeah, that tile goes over halfway up the wall ALL over the bathroom.)

As you can imagine, with her busy social life, Baby can get to looking pretty rough.  Thankfully, she is washable and comes out looking almost as good as new.  However, wrestling Baby away from Caroline long enough to stick her in the washing machine can be quite a challenge.  I have to wash Baby at least once a week, because otherwise she ends up looking like a science experiment, and quite frankly, it drives me crazy. 

The other day, I was having one of those days where I really thought I had this mom/housewife thing down.  I had almost totally finished our laundry, but I had one last load to throw in and Baby needed to go in that load.  It was right around nap time, so I thought I would get Caroline to sleep, and then sneak off with Baby, run her through the washer while Caroline slept, and all would be sunshine and roses.  I was so tickled with myself for syncing Baby's "bath" with Caroline's nap (yes, in my world, these are the things that get my blood flowing).  I now know why I never attempted this horrible fabulous plan before. 

I put Caroline down for her nap, and when I peeked in to make sure she had fallen asleep, I saw that she had Baby in a choke-hold.  I gingerly tried to get Baby away at that point, but when I nudged Baby, Caroline only tightened her grip on her.  So, I decided to let her get into a deeper sleep and try again in a little bit. 

About half and hour later, I crept back in her room and thankfully, Caroline had released Baby from her death-grip.  I snatched Baby up, went and threw her in the washing machine with the other laundry, and high-fived myself for such a well-thought out plan.  I went back to the living room to fold some laundry and catch up on The Real Housewives a highly intellectual documentary.  As soon as my butt hit the couch, I heard Caroline's door open... My heart sank....  And then I heard the little foot steps thundering down the hall accompanied by "Baby?  Baby?  BAaaabbBBBYYyyyYY?"  She came running into the living room with a look of complete horror on her face and kept asking "Momma, Baby?  Where Baby?".  Apparently my child has a sensor that alerts her to when Baby is more than five feet from her.  At that point, even though I wanted to cry because she had slept less than an hour, all I could do was try not to laugh at her (I know, I am an awesome mother).

 After about five straight minutes of interrogation, I finally told her that Baby was taking a bath.  Without missing a beat, Caroline knew exactly what I was talking about.  She ran into the laundry room and started beating on the washing machine while yelling "BAABBBYYYYYYY".  I finally got her to calm down by giving her a snack, but she went right back into the laudry room to wait for her beloved Baby.  By the time I got her a snack and grabbed the camera, she had calmed down, but it was still pretty funny to see her camped out in there.

Listening for the washer to stop

"Baby, are you in there???"

Lesson learned:  Don't think that you can outsmart a two-year old.  Even on those Super-Mom days, the little boogers will find a way to give you a truckload an ounce of humility.  Touche Caroline, touche. 

Another saying that comes to mind is "Nobody puts Baby in the corner", except in this case, I think I'll make this my new mantra:  "Nobody puts Baby in the washing machine during naptime". 

No comments:

Post a Comment