Monday. I’m either thrilled to start the week afresh or I’m dragging myself out of Sunday night doldrums. Why is it so hard to find the middle there? Work is crazy busy. K’s work is crazy busy. In addition to crazy busy we’ve got a kid that is pulling up and trying to cruise. I say “trying” because we’re not quite there yet. She’ll take a step – reach for the next hand hold – and then pitch forward or backward. I hate it. I mean, I love to see her advancing and moving and, ahem, milestoning, but damn if it doesn’t make my heart jump. The permanent bruising on her forehead sort of sucks.
Milestones we’re not reaching – the whole mama/dada thing? She sort of says “mama” when she’s crying, but it’s not clear. And she doesn’t have a favorite toy… unless every toy is her favorite toy or mom/dad is her favorite toy. We have, however, gotten through the despicable nap-fighting phase. Now that I’ve said that there’s no way it’ll stick. Will I never learn?!? Ugh, why do I even read babycenter? One of the things I sort of hate about early motherhood is the not knowing whether or not I’m doing it “right.” She’s happy, she’s growing, she’s moving, she’s delighted by the things around her — and that’s what I can base success on. I’ve kept princess shit out of our home and she has as many star trek shirts as she does cupcake shirts (what the f’ is it about cupcakes?). I’m a product manager – I’m used to defining the metric for success (wha? me a control freak? nahhhh). Maybe I should just write my own milestones for the next two years?
I’ve got a post about guns brewing. I have an opinion, so of course I want to share it. And it will be totally relevant and original. Of course.
I have a friend getting married in a few months, and I received an invite to his wedding addressed to me and “the Republican.” I love it. Of course, K was so amused he then posted it to facebook so now the world has our address. Maybe we’ll get more Christmas cards?
I’m already planning a birthday party for my daughter (in my head). It’s almost four months away, but I cannot stop. Damn you, Pinterest!
Yesterday, C3 spent about half the service in the church nursery. Last week she majorly bumped her head on the seat in front of us – she was fine, but the lady in front of us was mortified. I like singing and praying with my daughter. I like her to see her father and I singing and praying. Anyway, I realized I was baby wrangling instead of listening and thus… nursery. Separation anxiety is rearing it’s ugly little head, but I think her time in the nursery was harder on me than on her. Maybe.