I've learned a lot of things about being a parent in the last eight and a half months. Namely:
~People will give you all sorts of unsolicited advice about what's best for your baby.
~You will cry every time you put away something they've grown out of-baby swings, clothes, toys.
~Babies will always do their own thing and leave you feeling like a clueless asshole.
Mama, you know nothing about me.
Case in point. I've never tried really sleep training Olivia. I kind of just let her do her thing, and she's been pretty good in recent months. Then we had about two weeks of her waking twice a night before she turned around and gave us 12 hours of solid sleep! Then did it again the next night! But then yesterday, she decided she didn't want to take her (much needed) naps; what she wanted to do was climb all over me and scream in my ear. By the evening and into the night, she was a cranky, cranky mess. For several hours. It was slowly causing me to LOSE IT.
This morning, after going out for breakfast with my parents, I brought a very tired, eye-rubbing baby back to the bedroom for a nap. Then she proceeded to scream bloody murder like I was ripping her tiny fingernails off one by one. And then I realized that Breaking Bad was on Netflix and ignored the laundry and dishes that had to be done because you can only listen to your little adorable preshus screaming for so
long before you need to witness a little bit of meth cooking and
violence to balance it all out.
Olivia is getting older, you guys. She used to lay on her back under her activity mat and bat at the toys. Now I have to run at her with wet, soapy hands from doing the dishes as she tries to grab the dog bowls, the Bose speaker cord, or those little decorative statues that I have yet to put up from the corner of the kitchen. She loves climbing in the kitchen chairs under the table and getting stuck and screeching and then doing it all over again when I've freed her.
I feel like we are getting dangerously
close to being required to actually...parent. Which I find to be
terrifying. Up until now, I've been pretty comfortable with the whole
Keep Alive part of being a mom. But now, it's like everything is changing again and I find myself sternly in my Mom Voice saying, "Olivia Nicole, you put down that dog food." Which kind of makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside because I've always wanted to say that.
I'm doing a terrible job at
teaching her the meaning of No. Or, maybe just that No is not
hilarious. She's well aware of the meaning of No. It clearly means: do
something not allowed, pause when the mother says no, smile toothless
smile at the mother, carry on. Bonus if the mother laughs at the baybee
because OMG SHE IS BAD AND SHE ACTS JUST LIKE MEEEEEE! HOW CUTE AND
MUSHY! LOLZ WITH MY HAND OVER MY MOUTH.
Anyway, the baby-proofing of the house is still a work in progress. And I have yet to get back into the swing of things with this whole crawling and suicidal standing she likes to do where she holds on to something and then flies backward and screams her head off. I'm waiting for the day she does this over the wood floor and I'm not quick enough and her head bounces off the floor. Oy.
