Thought Vomit
I've spent nearly a week trying to write a post. I've started and stopped so many times that my original intent has been warped beyond recovery. So, like any sane person, I've scrapped the whole thing and have decided to go for an Instant Entry. Welcome to my brain. Whee.
Nora is officially eleven months old. Actually, she's more than eleven months old. She's big enough that I can stop saying exactly how old she is because I don't have a Number hanging over her head, or mine. I figure that anything over ten and a half months is success. It's better than I've ever done before. Am I right? (canned laughter)
Someone tweeted a few days ago that thing about how all houses have an odor, but you're so used to your own smell (stink) that you no longer smell your own house. Holy crap has that sent me in to a tailspin. Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. (Did you know that messier women are better in bed? I used to be messy....)
We have a cat, a dog and a baby so I know, logically, that our house smells, but I'm desperate to cover that scent with something else. I burn a lot of incense and try not to think about it. Until I'm reminded and I turn in to a Crazed Cleaning Beast.
I cleaned the oven today. It was part Sylvia Plath, part Martha Stewart; all awkward.
I can't seem to get enough of my daughter lately. I want to print these days firmly in my brain; wash out the early days of crying and futility and the upcoming toddler tantrums. These past few weeks have been wonderful. My kid is walking and talking (!) and has really come in to her own. She is less needy, now, and it's a joy to watch. Nora explores the world instead of just letting it happen to her. And, so far, that curiosity and independence is still tempered with a deep need to snuggle. We spend a good portion of our day reading stories.. Her favorite place to be is in my lap.
You know how little kids like to drag you from room to room by your fingers? Nora likes to throw an arm around my neck and put me in a little baby sleeper hold, but it's cute. She giggles and her face is pressed in to my cheek as she tries to pull us in the direction she wants to go. I think, if she could, she'd yell, "Ya! Mule!" in my ear to make me go faster.
We play and play and I think that, maybe, I should be teaching her something but I'm not ready. I don't want to structure her life in to lessons and drills. Not yet. I slip stuff in when we're playing, like colors or numbers or shapes, but I honestly have no idea what she's supposed to know next.
Nora was starting to do a lot of talking, different words and such, but she learned "that" and all other progress has halted. Her vocabulary has dwindled down to a whole bunch of pointing and yelling "THAT!" at the top of her lungs until she gets what she wants. Awesome. (Sarcasm should be apparent.)
The kitten has become a part of our family. Nora and Bishop get along better than I thought possible. No joke. I've had to start closing Nora's door at nap time because Bishop will sneak in there and hop in the crib with her. They follow each other around and play. It's taken some of the pressure off of me. And it's helped heal some of the niggling guilt I've had about deciding to keep Nora as an only child. She has a playmate that isn't me. That's enough, for now.
We've acquired some decorations for Nora's birthday party. Adam got in the supply store and went a little nuts. Nothing matches and I have zero control, but I know that Adam is excited. All of the colors and patterns will thrill Nora, if they don't give her seizures. I've picked a flavor of cupcake, but I've yet to try the recipe. I thought I had enough ingredients, but all of the recipes I've found require two kinds of flour and I only have one. Of course.
We still have a couple more weeks. I hope that we'll have everything we need and her presents before then. Whee.
Nora is officially eleven months old. Actually, she's more than eleven months old. She's big enough that I can stop saying exactly how old she is because I don't have a Number hanging over her head, or mine. I figure that anything over ten and a half months is success. It's better than I've ever done before. Am I right? (canned laughter)
Someone tweeted a few days ago that thing about how all houses have an odor, but you're so used to your own smell (stink) that you no longer smell your own house. Holy crap has that sent me in to a tailspin. Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. (Did you know that messier women are better in bed? I used to be messy....)
We have a cat, a dog and a baby so I know, logically, that our house smells, but I'm desperate to cover that scent with something else. I burn a lot of incense and try not to think about it. Until I'm reminded and I turn in to a Crazed Cleaning Beast.
I cleaned the oven today. It was part Sylvia Plath, part Martha Stewart; all awkward.
I can't seem to get enough of my daughter lately. I want to print these days firmly in my brain; wash out the early days of crying and futility and the upcoming toddler tantrums. These past few weeks have been wonderful. My kid is walking and talking (!) and has really come in to her own. She is less needy, now, and it's a joy to watch. Nora explores the world instead of just letting it happen to her. And, so far, that curiosity and independence is still tempered with a deep need to snuggle. We spend a good portion of our day reading stories.. Her favorite place to be is in my lap.
You know how little kids like to drag you from room to room by your fingers? Nora likes to throw an arm around my neck and put me in a little baby sleeper hold, but it's cute. She giggles and her face is pressed in to my cheek as she tries to pull us in the direction she wants to go. I think, if she could, she'd yell, "Ya! Mule!" in my ear to make me go faster.
We play and play and I think that, maybe, I should be teaching her something but I'm not ready. I don't want to structure her life in to lessons and drills. Not yet. I slip stuff in when we're playing, like colors or numbers or shapes, but I honestly have no idea what she's supposed to know next.
Nora was starting to do a lot of talking, different words and such, but she learned "that" and all other progress has halted. Her vocabulary has dwindled down to a whole bunch of pointing and yelling "THAT!" at the top of her lungs until she gets what she wants. Awesome. (Sarcasm should be apparent.)
The kitten has become a part of our family. Nora and Bishop get along better than I thought possible. No joke. I've had to start closing Nora's door at nap time because Bishop will sneak in there and hop in the crib with her. They follow each other around and play. It's taken some of the pressure off of me. And it's helped heal some of the niggling guilt I've had about deciding to keep Nora as an only child. She has a playmate that isn't me. That's enough, for now.
We've acquired some decorations for Nora's birthday party. Adam got in the supply store and went a little nuts. Nothing matches and I have zero control, but I know that Adam is excited. All of the colors and patterns will thrill Nora, if they don't give her seizures. I've picked a flavor of cupcake, but I've yet to try the recipe. I thought I had enough ingredients, but all of the recipes I've found require two kinds of flour and I only have one. Of course.
We still have a couple more weeks. I hope that we'll have everything we need and her presents before then. Whee.
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