Ari and the Great Outdoors

Ari loves to be outside. She enjoys long walks on the beach with the wind in her hair. No seriously. If she is fussy and generally unhappy get that girl in a stroller and you’re good as gold.

A few weeks ago she was not having it with “inside life” so Daddy & I took her outside. It was ridiculously hot, so we opened the garage and sat in the shade. We were bird watching. A sweet little bird was hopping around on the side-walk when lo and behold! a literal hawk (or another predator bird– I’m no bird expert) swooped down and grabbed the sweet fluffy baby in its talons. This is not what we signed up for.  If I wanted my daughter to witness this I would have stayed inside and turned on Animal Planet. As if that wasn’t enough, the hawk remained in the vicinity to eat flufbaby. It flew atop the light post and we were showered in tiny down feathers. *crying*.

At this point we are very unhappy with our outdoors experience. Okay, fine. am very unhappy about our outdoors experience.  Ari is oblivious. Every now and then a feather would catch her eye and she would follow it until it hit the pavement, but she knew nothing of it’s significance.  So I grab a fallen apple off the yard’s ground and tell my husband to throw it at the flesh devouring beast. He says it’s no use at this point. I insist. He throws and it gets very close to knocking the brute over. However, on the apple’s decent it was a mere inches from crashing into the neighbor’s car. Not one of our finer moments. The savage animal flies away, taking fluff mcbaby with it.

I snatch Ari up and stomp inside…to prepare us a chicken dinner…






juggling sweet potatoes

As previously mentioned, my daughter hates eating during the day. However, once in a blue moon I get to feed her during waking hours. So when she shows interest in her bottle during daylight, we drop everything. It’s like watching a white jaguar…on its hind legs, juggling sweet potatoes. I don’t question it. I don’t interrupt. I don’t talk. I try not to make eye contact. I barely breathe.

I tip her into the crook of my arm and hope she can handle at least 4 oz. Because desire to eat is seldom expressed (thus making me ill prepared for such a rare event), I am sometimes caught in uncomfortable positions. Sometimes she will be laying on her back in her crib with me doubled over and on my tip toes to accommodate her. Earlier today, the way I tilted her back trapped her tiny hand in my underarm. She has a tendency to pat or lightly scratch her caretaker’s back during a feeding and today was no different… except for the placement of the hand.

Old habits die hard, so she proceeded to gently wiggle her hand around to get into a good position to scratch. It began to tickle. After a while, I was silently laughing to the point of tears and heaving shoulders. All of this goes unnoticed by Ari, for she has already closed her eyes in relaxation. Remember: no noise. I mustn’t scare her off. So I look away in what can only be described as the most painless type of agony. At this point, the only thing I am grateful for is that no one can see us. Oh the plethora of ridiculous moments this girl induces.