In my old age

I think motherhood is making a softie out of me. Tonight, a young lady knocked on my door with a petition for the Working Families Party of CT, which has sponsored legislation that would mandate 6.5 paid sick days per year for all employees in CT who work in a company of 50 or more employees.

6.5 days is not a lot of sick time. And I agreed with her that I'd rather see employees out on sick leave than spreading germs in the workplace. In my younger, more hot-headed days, I wouldn't have even had a conversation with this young woman, much less invite her into my home (which I did) while I finished the supper dishes. I also told her that this country needs much better laws for maternity leave, similar to those in Canada and many European countries.

What the hell happened to me and my Libertarian ideals? They're still in there, somewhere, I know. But then I had a baby, and the desire to make the world a better, nicer place for him took full precedence. Don't get me wrong -- I'm all for individual responsibility, and I want the government out of my business as much as the next gal, but I now feel that we have at least some responsibility for one another. Or maybe I'm just selfish and don't want some poor sick restaurant employee passing strep throat to me and my son. Oh, and the poor girl was out in the rain canvassing for signatures -- how much does that suck? I couldn't let her just be stuck out in the storm. Plus she was sweet to my dog. She reminded me of a 20-year-old me. Idealistic, optimistic, and skinnier than I am now.

Andrew's started on apples now. And I sent him to daycare with a 2.5 oz jar of peas, plus 2 tablespoons of rice cereal to mix in, thinking surely he'd at least come home with an unused bottle. But no, he drank all three bottles AND ate all of the peas. And the cereal. Plus, tonight he ate a 2.5 oz jar of bananas with 2 tablespoons of cereal, plus almost half a 4 oz jar of sweet potatoes (still his favorite), also with cereal mixed in. Oink! Let's see how the sleeping goes.

He's reeeeeeallly starting to want to crawl, but alas, he still just manages to slink backwards. At least he's been more good-natured about tummy time these past couple of days. I'm getting nervous about baby-proofing the house, since when he starts to crawl it'll be impossible just to "park" him on a quilt on the floor, etc. anymore without worrying if there's a) a stray piece of dog food, b) a cat toy, or c) something else choke-able on the floor. This totally freaks me out.

OH. I've been meaning to post this: I do, in fact, currently have bite marks on my right nipple. I reacted strongly when Andrew bit me, and then of course he immediately puckered up, and out went the bottom lip, and my heart broke a little. I cannot stand to see that little boy sad. But I also value my boobs. It was a tough situation, to say the least.