If you follow me on Facebook or Twitter, you are likely aware that the baby has begun crawling and pulling her self up, and straight up standing within the last week or so. It has opened up an entire new world to her, for obvious reasons, but has also opened the dialogue between Hub and me as to whether she truly will be our final baby. (short answer—yes)
When you think of babies, you think of the snuggly little newborn who is on a sleep/eat/poop continuum. Teeny babies in footie pajamas, content to sleep on your shoulder or in the crook of your arm, content to be left in one spot for any period of time. You don’t think about the baby who refuses to sleep in her own bed, or finds rocks and rubber bands and pieces of random crap to shove in her mouth regardless of how vigilant you are about vacuuming and keeping your floors clean. You don’t think about baby proofing, or strategically closing off a part of your living room, or making sure the toilet is closed. You don’t remember worrying about whether she will stand up in her crib (should she choose to sleep there) and figure out a way to catapult herself out, because that is just the kind of baby she is.
We are in hell with Liv right now, a kind of hell that we never experienced with Bud and Lucy. She’s in to EVERYTHING and is constantly getting her fingers stuck in things and going after the cats and she wants what she wants when she wants it and you better comply or deal with her wrath. When you tell her no, she laughs and shakes her head no right back at you…and then blows you a kiss and moves on her merry way. She doesn’t know she is a tyrant; she thinks she is funny. And really, she is a perfectly happy baby. She is loud and exuberant a 22lb jolly sweetheart—unless you try and get in her way.
I know this is normal, I do. But I wasn’t prepared!! You don’t think about this stuff when you decide to have a baby! You think –it will be all snuggly fun!! It is not all snuggly fun.
Remind me of this when I get all swoony for one last baby, ok? Remind me that it is hard. And that eventually they’ll turn in to weirdo 5-year-olds, which is a whole new ball game.