Is It Just Me?

No one ever told me that being a mom is a daily rollercoaster of emotions. There are highs and lows and moments when I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs and also moments when the ride is over and I want to go again.

I guess what I’m looking for is someone to confirm that it’s totally normal to want to bang your head against the wall because the baby is incessantly whining from the confines of her high chair because she feels she’s ready to feed herself when really if she gets the correct end of the spoon in her mouth it’s only by coincidence. (She’s got to learn sometime though, right?) At the end of the meal Mummy has an even bigger mess to clean up because someone insisted she knew how to eat oatmeal, but whatever to keep her from making that god-awful noise for 45 minutes. Or when she won’t stay still long enough for me to get a clean diaper on her. She flips over before I even have the old one off. It’s like wrestling a badger.

But then there are moments when she thinks me tickling her neck is the funniest thing in the world. She belly laughs like an old fat man before squealing with delight. I feel the rush and adrenaline as the coaster zooms down the hill, my stomach rising into my throat before shooting back down to my toes. It’s the best feeling in the world. I want to stay in that moment all day, but it’s over just as quickly as it started and I have to get back in line again. Trudging my way to the front, waiting through some more whining and crying before I get to that elusive moment of sheer joy.

It’s definitely all worth it.

How Did This Happen?

Today is my baby’s 9 month birthday…makes me misty just acknowledging it.

So in her honor, I’m going to borrow an idea from SquareOneNotes’ blog and write her a message to commemorate this momentous day.

SweetE — you are getting so big I can hardly remember the days when you used to curl up in a tiny ball and sit on my chest. Or that every time I blinked, you pooped your pants. Or how we used to sit up through the night, holding you while you slept, watching crappy movies because that’s all that’s on at 3 am.

You’re crawling all around the house now and no matter how many times I sweep, you look like Pigpen from the Peanuts’ gang — your own little solar system of dust orbiting around you at all times. You have two bottom teeth and while you haven’t tried to rip my nipple off (yet) I continue to put myself in harm’s way for your nutrition. (Now that you have teeth, you seem like you’re 9 months going on 3 years.)

When I look back at your baby pictures, you have changed so much I hardly recognize who you were. Your father and I were so worried when you were itty bitty that your belly button would always look how it did after your stump fell off and that you’d never grow a neck…but the stump flattened out and you’re slowly getting a neck…phew. Nobody told us these things. (Despite these worries, you’ve always been the most beautiful munchkin ever.)

Your daddy and I live to make you laugh. If there was one thing I could bottle, it would be your laughter. It is positively priceless. There’s nothing your father and I won’t do for a giggle or a smile, including hopping around like a couple of monkeys. You enjoy being scared, and despite the fact that startling a baby is probably bad karma, I continue to make you jump. You just love it so.

You’ve taken a dump in the bathtub twice now, so I know you’ve got quite the sense of humor and you’re going to be the ultimate prankster.

You’re becoming very opinionated and you’re not afraid to make your voice heard. Just like this morning when Mummy was singing Ariel’s Lament from The Little Mermaid to you and your response was fart sounds. I can take a hint and I applaud your honesty.

In closing, I love you more than is humanly possible and I’m so thankful for you (even though you send Mummy on a rollercoaster of emotions on a daily basis).

Happy 9 months, my snuggle bunny.