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.