I would like to know who stole my happy baby and replaced her with this fussy fussy can’t be put down for five minutes without crying demon child?
I have no idea what it is. Residual effects from her shots? Developmental leap? Teething? Just being a jerk?
Usually I can count on mornings being Olive’s happy time. She squeals and smiles and giggles and kicks, she brings a smile to my face every time I go to get her from her crib and she flashes me that huge gummy grin. But not this morning, sweet jesus.
She woke up crying, it was just, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping, RAGE! And then she was happy for about five minutes after I fed her, and then more rage! And indignation! And then a smile, and then angst! Oh god, so much angst. She’s obviously trying to work through some pretty big existential dilemmas right now, and you know what? Good for her. Lord knows I’ve had my bad days, and I’m capable of self-medicating with ice cream and shitty movies, so I can’t imagine trying to come to terms with the infinite nature of the universe while simultaneously sitting in your own pee. The nerve!
Still, this girl. Adam had her laughing for ten minutes yesterday by saying “Are you a gymnast?” over and over. Apparently nothing is more funny than being accused of being a gymnast! “Me? a Gymnast?” she seemed to be saying, “Oh my god! That’s ridiculous, Papa! Have you SEEN me?” Her whole body smiling, wriggling with joy. Those moments really bring you to your knees.
We’re at that point in our packing where soon we won’t be able to pack much else, everything superfluous is being squirreled away in boxes, and we’ll soon be left with just the bare necessities Dishes, towels, clothing. We won’t be able to pack much more until a few days before we go.
In twelve days. Ha! Hahahahah!
Here’s a fun song to quell your panic. I mean my panic. I mean I’m not panicking! Carry on.