I've said before that I don't care for the little baby headbands that are thin and dig into their poor little heads. And I still don't. But I found a baby headband that I don't just like--I love it. And it comes with interchangeable bows. Listen to me! I'm so girly now! :) I've always thought babies don't need decoration, and I still don't think they need it. But she looks so cute with a little bit of it, I couldn't resist. So here's a picture of Savvy with the new headband, which I have put on her almost every day since I got it. She was really posey in this picture! It was cute/funny.So not only do I love certain kinds of baby headbands, but guess what? For the first time (except for four months of Reed's life when he was addicted to a little 2-ounce bottle), one of my kids has a comfort object. And it's a very convenient one. None of our kids have taken a pacifier. I'd put it in their mouths, and they'd just look at me like they were just humoring me, and then spit it out right away. I counted myself lucky that there wasn't something I couldn't go anywhere without, but it was also difficult when I was the one thing that would comfort them. So one night a few days ago, I was editing some photos and needed to just keep plugging along until the last one was finished. Phill was holding Savvy, who was fussy. After about ten minutes, I looked back, and he pointed down at her. There in her mouth was the very pacifier she had snubbed her nose at only two months ago. And she was fast asleep! I silently rejoiced and went back to my editing. And about ten minutes after that, I looked back, and this is what I saw:
This awesome little piece of plastic and rubber saved me two of my usual three trips to the nursing lounge today--yes, three--and buys me an hour or two here and there throughout the day--and my poor nursing appendages are much less sore! :) (She was nursing about every 45 minutes for 20 minutes minimum. All the time. Not growth spurt-ish. All....the....time.) And this odd little piece of semi-ingenuity has bought me a couple more hours of sleep at night. Happy mama? Oh, yes. I'm not worried about weaning her from it--we'll deal with that later. For now, it's heaven-sent.
Yesterday we had the best family-centered day! After having been told a few times by a few different people how wonderful it was, we finally decided to go see the dinosaur tracks museum in St.George. I love stuff like this! I dreamed about being a paleontologist and archaeologist when I was littler, and it was just insanely cool to see actual tracks and marks and skin impressions--*YES, REALLY!*--from something that lived on the earth so long ago. Reed and Jax loved it, too, and Jax kept saying, "Mama! Scary!" in this awe-filled voice, and all Reed could do was stare huge-eyed and say, "WHOA....that is SO cool!" We were especially intrigued by the track of a tyrannosaurus rex, in which Savvy could have stood up. (That is, if she could stand on her own, and if we were allowed to touch it.)
Afterwards, we spent some time in the little souvenir shop section. Phill and I like to make up for the fact that we were not often afforded the luxury of cool tourist souvenirs or neat road trip buys growing up. :) (Don't worry, Mom. I understand that you couldn't buy the twenty-dollar stuffed animal for each of your seven children! Those Clearly Canadian drinks were just fine.) Anyway, we tend to budget for those fun (and most often overpriced) souvenirs when we do these family outings. The prices at this shop were actually quite moderate, so we were pleased. We also saw some great stocking stuffers, which we will inform Santa's elves about as soon as possible. Reed got a small stuffed teradactyl. Did you know they could be small and soft and cuddly? Well, apparently they can for seven dollars in St.George. After about twenty minutes of deep thought and ongoing discussion, Reed finally had a name for his teradactyl--Mike Dinosaur DeVault. Mike came with us for the rest of the day to Phill's company Christmas party, to our friends' houses, and even to church today, on the condition that he be very silent in Reed's backpack. (He was.)