Big Girl, Part 2

27 04 2012

So, along with her gross motor skills, my kid is making great strides in the area of gastronomy.

She ate filet mignon.

Seriously.

Mostly, though, she eats mushed up fruits and vegetables that I create by slaving over the proverbial – and literal – hot stove.  I did give in and buy some of those new-fangled pouches of organic baby food.  And, because I was hundreds of miles from home, feeding her in my mom’s car in a gas station parking lot, I tried letting her suck the puree from straight from the pouch.

Baby.  Crack.

I can make the exact same exotic blend of squash and apples, and she will eat it from a bowl with a spoon.  Most of the time.  But if she sees a baby food pouch, she will shriek and flap her arms and grin and babble and scream until she gets her hands on it.

Oh, well.  She probably prefers disposable diapers, too.

The benefit of her emerging skills at eating without choking means that I can sometimes give her a tray of finger foods and she can exist more than twelve inches away from me.  And after seven months of carrying her around like a baby monkey, I am giddy with the ability to fold a load of laundry while my daughter is happily chasing blueberry puffs around a tray with her pudgy little fingers.

Even if it means that I will later be carrying her around like a baby monkey while I pick up the puffs from the floor, the chair, the tray, her clothes, her ears, my hair, and, inexplicably, my pockets.

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Big Girl, Part 1

26 04 2012

So, we had a few sunny days, and as soon as the sun came out, I thought “Oh! I want a picture of my baby sitting in the spring green grass!”  But, alas, it seemed a little chancy.  As in, she was as likely to tip over and bash her head on a rock as to sit upright for long enough for me to snap a pic.

Tipping over?  That was, like, SO last week.

Now?

Of course, it’s raining now.  But when the sun comes out again?  Watch out, grass.  My baby is coming.  And she is going to eat you.

But only after she sits long enough for me to get a picture.





7 Months / Easter Afternoon

10 04 2012





Happy Easter!

7 04 2012

There are only two times a year when it’s socially acceptable to terrorize your child: Christmas and Easter.

My daughter has, from an early age, shown a marked preference for me (naturally enough, I suppose, since I’m her mother).  So when we went to visit Santa, I felt I was GUARANTEED one of those baby-screaming-on-Santa’s-lap photos.  Not that I was, you know, looking forward to it, I just thought it was inevitable.  My relief (disappointment) when she happily sat in the arms of the weird bearded guy was slightly mitigated by the fact that she immediately pooped (though I will never forgive the well-fitting Fuzzibuns diaper that heroically contained the mess and therefore ruined a truly picture-perfect photo op).

Three months later, my girl is all the more aware of people who are NOT HER MOM.  She is known to start screaming STRANGER DANGER! if someone other than me tries to hold her (like her dad).  So when I saw this mall Easter Bunny, I thought for sure we would get an angry/scared/indignant-baby-pic.

Nope.

She was enchanted.  This thing was like her teddy bear!  Like her stuffed dog!  Like all her favorite toys in GIANT, LIFE SIZE form and it was HOLDING HER!

She immediately did to the Easter Bunny what she does to all her favorite toys: she tried to eat him.

It was, like, the best day of her life.

She was SO HAPPY that I wasn’t even sorry that she kind of preferred him to me… Well, I might have been, if her joy had lasted a few more minutes before she decided she wanted her mom back.

HAPPY FIRST EASTER, BABY GIRL!





In the Middle of Nowhere

2 04 2012

Luckily, my whole world fits into my arms.

(And, luckily, her favorite meal is easy to pack…)








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