Bites, blue water, books

A salt water foot tickle

Wow! Wow, wow, wow.

Last night we returned from a 6 night vacation in Belize. I true vacation, with reading, sleeping, exploring, and lots of rum punch. On the eve of the trip, my parents, jokingly, perhaps, suggested that we leave the Munch with them. Before I knew what had happened, we were discussing logistics, and racing home from dinner to repack the bags. An hour later, Tom and I were in the airport alone! Already diving into our books. I can't even explain what it was like to be on our own again. Hungrily scarfed down books until our eyes bled. We thirstily poured adult beverages down our gullets, giving responsibility a well-earned rest. We rode in fast boats, peed in dirty pit toilets, and careened down one lane, two direction dirt roads. We also swam in (nurse) shark infested waters.

Of course we missed him. Of course we could hardly wait to see him, even as we raced through our last hours of pleasure reading on the plane. I had crazy Munch dreams every night. It was like my mind didn't know what to do with that part that has been so completely consumed with the care and feeding of the Munch, and it had to go through all of that pent up activity while I slept.

I got eaten by black flies. We swam in the clearest, bluest water I have ever seen. I read The Kite Runner and most of The Time Traveler's Wife, which are wonderful, and another less-wonderful book that is not worth mentioning. It was heaven, and I am so glad to be home.

Some days, it just gets old

So now Munch is eating better. I changed my focus from getting him to swallow food, to getting him to "experience" food. Sometimes he just squeezes it in his fist as hard as he can. Sometimes he wants to know how peanut butter will feel in his hair. This new approach seems to work - he is eating more and more varied foods. I am less freaked out. But there is one drawback.

It is very, very messy. It is messy each of the six times per day that I feed him.

I get rather tired of washing him, the dishes, the floor under his clip-on chair. I look forward to those occasions that we eat out, so that someone else can clean up his mess (I used to feel guilty about this, but no longer). Dishes are boring. Many dishes are more boring. Mopping up spilled, dropped, tossed bits of food while he leans over to kick my head or pull my hair just about finishes off my patience.

The speed at which he can empty an unsuspecting drawer or clear a bookshelf is increasing. He can now demolish the whole house in about 10 minutes. A bathroom break for mom provides a good window of opportunity to tackle at least one room.

We need to get out more.

Scariest gnome on the block