Being the mother of a walker

Emma is walking everywhere now. It is beyond cute!

Everyone told me that I would regret wanting her to walk. Ummm, I don't regret it yet. And I'm pretty sure I'll never regret it.

"You only think she's getting into stuff as a crawler! Just you wait!"

"She'll be so hard to keep up with!"

Let me tell you the difference between Crawling Emma and Walking Emma: I don't have to carry Walking Emma everywhere we go.

That alone makes walking SO worth it. Walking Emma doesn't even necessarily need to be walking all by herself to make my life easier. Sometimes she just needs to hold my pinky. That leaves me with exactly the same number of hand and arm I had available before she started walking, but without the crushing weight of her body on my hip, arm, and spine.

Yes, I suppose she is getting into stuff more, but even then I'm not sure "more" is the word I would use. I think "more capable" describes her better. Whereas before I would find random things scattered around a fairly controlled space, I'm finding them in different rooms more frequently (I'm talking to you Random Sweet Potato that was outside my bedroom door this afternoon).

The sweetest part to me about having a walker is the independence. She has so much pride in her accomplishments, even at this incredibly young age. She know when we are pleased with her and takes it very personally when we disapprove of what she's doing.

Becoming more capable with her legs has made getting off of our bed more feasible. I put her down to nap on my bed today, quite comforted in knowing that she could easily get down without hurting herself. However, I shut the bedroom door. Toward the end of her nap I had the inspiration to go ahead and leave the door open since I was going to be quietly working on the computer on the other side of the house anyway, and maybe she'll just come and find me when she's awake. About a half hour later I was sitting here at the computer when I heard little feet slapping through the laundry room. I then heard the dog gate shut (she's a little OCD about closing doors). Then I got to listen to her little independent steps carry her through the kitchen and dining room and into the hallway. I called out to her, and she turned to walk to me, just beaming with sleepy happiness that she'd found her mother. She immediately came into the room and walked straight into my arms for a few minutes of cuddling. No tears. No trauma in the nap ending. No standing at the crib rail screaming her head off. Just waking up and coming back into the flow of household happenings.

The feelings I feel in those moments are ones I hope that I never forget. I love that little girl who has no shortage of attitude or sweetness.

Picking is Genetic

I have read in various places at various times descriptions of the neurotic behaviors of self-described pickers, and all I could ever really think at those times was, "It's like they're in my head!". Not the least disturbing of these moments was when I watched a random episode of "My Strange Addiction" on Netflix about a girl who obsessively picked her skin raw and I identified with some of the thoughts she had--THOUGHTS THAT LANDED HER IN THERAPY. Let's just say that's the last episode of THAT show I ever watched.

My daughter is a picker. A little 15 month old picker.

I have this little brown freckle-mole thing situation directly above my left breast. It isn't in a sketchy location, and is quite visible when I wear a "low-cut" shirt or swimsuit.

That little freckle-mole is on death row.

At first I didn't think anything of it because she was only fidgeting with it when she nursed on that side. But soon I noticed that she was deliberately trying to grab the "edges" of it. She was watching it while in the very act of taking milk from my body. I was nurturing her the best way I know how and she was trying to rip my skin off. About 1 second after that I felt that uncomfortable shot of pain that comes with attempting to rip flesh that needs no ripping.

I began to prohibit the activity, but guess where that leads?

Screaming. Unbelievable screaming. And hitting. She will have that freckle-mole, dang it!

Given the fact that most of the time this occurs in the middle of the night (and the fact that she is pretty unreasonable when she's fully conscious), I found it difficult to discipline it away.

My next attempt to stop the behavior was to simply place my hand over the area and hope she didn't notice or care.

She notices and definitely cares. Unless I can slip my hand in place while she's mostly out of it, she knows, and the whole world stops until she gets what she wants.

Third attempt was to act hurt (not hard to do). Every time she grabbed it this morning I would yelp "ow!" and make a sad face. The little sadist wasn't moved, and she was only slightly startled.

I have one option left. Remove the freckle-mole myself. Granted, this won't be my first mole removal (because let's not forget that the baby's mother is also a picker), however, in my experience, they don't stay gone without professional assistance. That isn't stopping me, however, and besides, she's already gotten it started for me over the course of only a few days. If I can get it out of the picture for a while, maybe she'll be less interested in it by the time it comes back. I don't have much hope in that however.

Once a picker, always a picker.

***I'm aware that this all sounds pretty disgusting. I do not apologize.

My room is better!

I'm beginning to think that no part of my home will be perfectly "put together" until the rest of my home is perfectly put together. Every time I start a project and dive in strong, I work like a dog until the day is done, but still don't finish whatever project I've started. This is largely because of the million side projects that I pick up along the way... one day I'll wake up, and it will all be complete. Darren says that's because he'll have done it all ;)

Anyway, today's accidental project was our bedroom. It was supposed to be installing shelves in Emma's closet (shelves that I cut and measure several weeks ago...but got distracted from completing at that time...). Our bedroom has been at the very end of my priority list since moving in since it's not a room that people see. However, I've been feeling pretty cramped in here, and the mess (mostly my mess) was beginning to suffocate me. So I pulled out a box to collect Goodwill stuff, a box to collect stuff that I need to find a place for, some garbage bags, and a paper towel roll with cleaning spray. Once the garbage was mostly bagged up and my junk was piled onto the bed, I REARRANGED THE FURNITURE. Rearranging furniture is NOT something I usually take much pleasure in (thanks to many years of sharing a room with Anne-Marie...a girl way too fond of rearranging her living space). When we first moved into the house, the guys moving our furniture set up the bedroom without my input because I wasn't home. I seeeriously wish they'd waited for my arrival! In any case, the bed was oriented longways across the short distance of the bedroom, shrinking it by a lot. I've been wondering about turning it longways, trying not to hope that it would actually help. IT DOES. The room feels SO much bigger, and I was able to find much better locations for our dressers. It isn't perfect, but goodness. I feel like I can breathe, and decorating feels more appealing.

If anyone wants to donate money to our House Makeover Fund, feel free. I need paint (colors picked out and everything!) and some decor supplies. This room and our bathroom are the next rooms I want to paint. If I could get them painted, I can't even describe the level of accomplishment I would feel.

Oh! I also finally washed our bedsheets again. I honestly don't know how frequently I do so, but every time I do it feels like "finally" is a good word to use. In any case, I looooove laying on fresh bed sheets!

To make up for my ultra boring late night musings (boring to you, maybe....I'm really excited about the new layout of my room! ;) ), here are some pictures to remind you how adorable my daughter is:

Obviously not my daughter, but it makes me laugh. It's like someone took a camera to my insides. 

Among the many activities I love to observe, her "talking on the phone", whether that phone be her hand, mine or Darren's phones, or her play phone, is somewhere close to the top. It's hilarious. She coos and grunts to whomever is on the other end of the line. 

She refuses to approach chairs correctly. Every once in a while she'll sit in the bumbo or her tiny piano chair correctly, but she quickly corrects herself and sits in it her way. And it's not like I don't show her the right way. David said it best by describing her approach to everything as unconventional. Truth. 

We're missing Conner. We got to keep him for a few days last week while Amanda was out of town, and Emma adored every second. They were so fun together. 

Spock

Spock and I have reached a new level of bonding that has made caring for him a little easier the last couple of days.

This morning he won my heart again. I was upset about some things, so I went outside to be alone.  He'd been outside, so as soon as I opened the door he came bounding up. I sat on the stoop, and he saw my face. That little pup KNEW I was sad. He cuddled up to me, and threw his legs over my lap, then laid his head on his puppy arms. He tried to lick my face, but that's a line I don't let him cross, no matter how sad I am... ;)

That's something I've always wanted to experience. I am so happy knowing he'll be there for my kids too.

His little puppy junk is scheduled for snipping in about a month. I'm so excited.

I can't believe how much he's grown in the short time he's been with our family!

I think this was his second day with us. He had almost zero control on our cruddy laminate haha

Playing today during conference.

Playing this week. He's got such a goofy smile!