Having had the opportunity to stay at home with Fudge for a while...I've found that everything must be done in twenty minute increments. Feed the baby, change the baby, gently lay them down to sleep...then scramble like hell to get anything done. Especially things that require bending down. I give Amy super kudos for not going slightly mental with all of the uncertainty. Babies are like ticking timebombs (or even worse, dirty bombs).
Daycare thoughts:
--Ugly babies are held less than cute babies. Sad but true.
--Finding a good daycare unfortunately makes me feel bad two ways: One, if Fudge throws a fit in there then I feel bad for him and want to snatch him up. Two, if he's enjoying himself then I get jealous that he's giving smiles away that I could be collecting. I know it's stupid...but there you go.
--There should be a sign at daycares with a picture of high heels and the little ghostbusters red-circle thing with the line through it. My first day of picking up Fudge a woman was holding her baby and walking around and accidently stepped on the head of another baby. With spiked shoes! It caused quite the scene and made me think of buying Fudge a shoe helmet.
--Daycares are very institutional. There's a checkin and checkout process, scheduled times to do everything, and then at the end of the day they get a report card with how they did. Hmm.
Fudge is starting to smile with his whole body. Kind of like that monkey-with-the-cymbols toy.
