My daughter, my last baby, turned two last week. Time has gone so fast, I can’t even comprehend it. It’s like, time travel. And time travel causes heartache.
I should have known the moment she was born, that she was going to be high maintenance. She refused to sleep unless it was in someone’s (usually mine) arms. She somehow managed to sucker us into letting her sleep in our bed for the first six months, and then when she got too roll-y and chatty, she made it a point to make sure that I went in there at least once a night to snuggle with her.
And to this day, “nuggling,” is still one of her favorite things. And if she doesn’t get her way, all fucking hell breaks loose.
She talks. Oh my lands, she TALKS A LOT. And I have no idea where she gets that from. But seriously, the two of them are a constant stream of chatter, and I worry a lot less with her, but there are times where I have to say “for the love of God, can you two please just stop talking for five minutes?”
Listening is not one of her strong suits. She does things when the idea is hers, or if she’s made to do something, she makes it a point to make it extremely painful for you. Which means, if you tell her to go upstairs, you might as well go start digging your grave, because it’s going to take a long time. My mother doesn’t even bother to hide the laughter anymore.
Unlike her brother, she’s climbing out of her crib. Not consistently, but this means transitioning to a bed is imminent, and not only does this break my heart, but I am dreading the transition, because of that whole listening thing. And I’m telling you, that velcro I’m putting on her sheets is going to make her PISSED!
But for all of the hell she gives me, she makes up for it, by her affection, and the award winning smile she flashes.
I know that I can’t do her justice by posting some sappy shit, and honestly, I suck these days. My life has become one home project after another, and I have pictures on the horizon of my fabulous new, almost finished bedroom. I wish I could dig up something witty to say, but I usually think about that shit while I’m driving.
Next time, I’ll just start writing while I’m on Ambien.