Our baby will be 10 months old tomorrow.
In a related note, I haven't updated this blog since November of last year. Pitiful, really, but I promise it's not for lack of writing. I've actually been keeping a nice journal of these baby days. Recording things like first sounds, crawls, what types of food the little girl eats and when, frustrations with napping schedules, etc. But really, does the world wide watching web really want to know these things? I'm assuming not, so keeping said journals to myself. UNTIL NOW!
Here's what I wrote today.
Some thoughts in no particular order:
The other day I came in to get Hadley out of her crib and she was standing up, grasping the railings smiling at me like it was the most normal thing ever. Bless her.
Today was a blissfully gorgeous day. We lay together on the trampoline in the backyard and I squeezed my baby so tight I was worried I might hurt her. She is just so beautiful and glorious I feel immensely blessed to be with her as much as I am. And incredibly fortunate that it serves only to increase my love for her. Sure, sometimes it's trying, and completely cliche (like when I'm waiting for that 5-ish hour for "the husband" to come home from work and take the baby..yea, it's a total cliche / stereotype. But what's that about stereotrypes, they only become so because they are cloaked in some truth, right? )
She gets new sounds or faces about everyday. It really makes life exciting. Yesterday she had this pursed-lip look..like she was about to whistle, her mouth that can become so gargantuan when she is smiling, becomes tiny and focused on God-knows-what. It's sickeningly cute. Today she gained a new sound. A clicking noise akin to some East African language. Can you imagine the exponential growth and development of a baby. It's astounding, really.
Jeff got a motorcycle. Were it smaller and /or did we have a King bed, he might sleep with it, like in the excited little boy sense. It's cute. I can't help but think of when my family had our red Yamaha Mo-ped. I waited for the day when I would be able to ride the mo-ped myself. When I would be grownup enough to experience the speed and wonder of the swift Yamaha. Our driveway was so bloody long, the motorized bike was the only reasonable solution for collecting mail and the paper, or going to see neighbors without jumping in the car at every turn. The Christmas before I was to be "of age" to ride the mo-ped, I got a helmet for Christmas. I'm pretty sure it was bright red (the other was metallic blue). I slept with it in my bed that Christmas night. I loved it that much. So if I mock Jeff, or disparage him in some deep place of my heart, I must always remember the moped and my red helmet. I crashed that moped a few years later. Sliced my ankle, at which point, seeing my bloody sock, I passed out from the shock and adrenaline of the moment. I still have the scar.
