An Ordinary Day

A friend of mine challenged us to post up a "day in the life" blog entry. 

I accepted her challenge and devoted Wednesday to snapping an almost minute-by-minute account of what it is we do all day. 

First: we get up. And by "we" I mean "Steve and Bunny." I roll out of bed anywhere from 5-90 minutes later, depending on the morning and the quality of sleep the night before. 

Steve and Bunny make coffee and read the news.

We say goodbye to Steve (who cycles to work) and then we get dressed.

We put on sunscreen

And go to the park:

This day, we swung by Pizza My Heart for my lunch, which made the walk about 2 miles. 

So we found a shady spot and got settled.

While I munched on my (mushroom) slice, we pondered why anyone would want to play golf on a baseball diamond.

Then we wondered why people play golf at all...

Then we read. (review to come - I highly recommend it.)

We practiced crawling. Then there were people playing pickup basketball on the court so every ounce of our practice stopped while Bunny tried to figure out just how tall he would have to be to get the ball into his mouth.

He settled for my finger.

And when I took it away to get out the bubbles, he decided to try his hand at a selfie:

I distracted him by blowing bubbles at a squirrel.

 bubbles not pictured.

If it takes all day, he's going to get this ball in his mouth. (Note the tongue and the determined expression.)

After a while we decided that our blanket had been played out, so we hit the swings, aka: Bunny's newest addiction.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "sheesh, how idyllic. What a charming and delightfully well behaved baby. What a deliciously relaxing life. I'd like to slow down and have lovely warm afternoons in the park, too..."

Well, there are two sides to every baby.

Above: happy park baby.

Below: what happens when he falls asleep in the stroller and wakes up too early with tooth pain in our boring house.

(actually, this is what extreme separation anxiety looks like. The treatment is to walk out of the room anyway.  This behavior, which in reality lasts a total of however long I'm out of reach, is nearly my undoing. We are all hopeful that once his gnarly little teeth cut he will chill the fuck out. Until then, I wear a scarlet A on my nursing bra. A for Asshole.) 

Of course, once he's blown that out and plays some more and gets a little more milk in him, it's time to feed the outdoor kitties.

 Cylon.

Toaster.

Not pictured: Wookie (also small and grey), Widget (black and white), Scarface (black and white), and Hunley (all black.) If you're interested in adopting one or all of these little guys, let me know. They could use a nice warm lap. Once they get over being terrified of humans, that is.

Also not pictured are the indoor kitties (Polly and Kipper) - probably because they spent the day outside under the neighbor's bushes...stalking their chickens. 

Then there was another "nap"

After which we just gave up and played more until Steve came home and we had dinner*.

Yes. This is what my living room looks like 90%of the time. We've covered this.

*not pictured. Fried Chicken.