Month Nine. August 19, 2012
It has taken me ten minutes to get ready to write this post. There were so many weird things going on with my computer screen and keyboard that I literally could not figure out how to get the internet open. I blame you for this. You and your obsessive love for anything with a screen or buttons you can mash down with your tiny but surprisingly strong hands.
If you’re not supposed to have it, you want it. You pass up any actual baby toy in favor of remote controls, cell phones, the monitor, computers, cords, lamps, the assorted electronics that surround the TV. We thought for a second we might be smarter than you and gave you a remote from an old DVD player to play with. But no. You knew. I’m pretty sure you rolled your eyes at me before you took off for the real thing.
Month nine has been a tough one, sweet girl. We went to youth camp, first of all, which was an experience I do not care to repeat. Big Mama came with us and you guys had a ball – napping and playing and talking to all the kids and reading and bathing and going for walks. I am jealous of the week you two had. My week was a little different. After spending all day chasing kids and dealing with drama and running all over creation and calming parents and cleaning wounds and dispensing medicine and advice and hugs, I would collapse on my bed only to be woken up by you every thirty seconds.
It wasn’t your fault, I know. You were in a new place and a strange bed surrounded by unfamiliar people. All I’m saying is that when I only have the opportunity for four hours of sleep, it’s not ideal to wake up three times in those four hours. To nurse a baby. Who has daggers for teeth.
But! We survived! And we survived the three week process of Getting Back On Schedule, although looking back at it from here I’m not sure how. Truly, the best thing I can say about July is that it is over and we are all still alive. Just last week someone asked me how camp went and before I could get out my standard, “It was great!”, I started crying and let loose on them about how it was possibly the worst string of days of my life. But we made it! Yay for August!
So here’s the thing about having a kid: it is super hard. And just when you think you have it pinned down and you think you’re doing pretty well, the game changes. It was hard when you were tiny and eating all the time and couldn’t really be put down. And then when you started rolling and and drooling and trying to eat the rugs and the dirt. And now you are mobile and into everything and yesterday I swear you disappeared right in front of my eyes and then I found you under the crib. I function on less sleep than I ever thought possible and it has taken me over a month to read The Princess Bride. Life is not as it once was.
But here’s the other thing: it is super awesome. Every day you learn something new. When you are in a room and I stick my head around the door, your face lights up and my heart soars to the heavens. You have your own little language and you MEAN what you SAY. Your clothes are tiny and adorable. I could sit and watch you explore and crawl and pull up and giggle all day long. You love people, especially your dad. When he puts you to bed I stand at the door and listen to the two of you – talking, laughing, singing the Avett Brothers, reading the dinosaur book – and I can’t figure out what we ever did before you came along.
I mean, we slept a lot. But besides that.
You are our bug, our peanut, our sugar, our baby doll, our sweet pea, our Campbell Lou. And we wouldn’t change a single thing.