If you’ve ever had an infant, you’ve been there. You spend an hour (or more) getting your child to stop fighting and go to sleep, lay her gently down in her crib and slowly begin to ease out of her room. Then, it happens. You knee pops or you step on a squeak in the floor. It’s all over. All of your hard work has been undone. You look down at your previously angelic-faced, peacefully sleeping baby and she’s now looking at you in a manner something like this:

 

 

 

 

 

“What the hell, Mom? You’re just gonna lay me in here by myself and leave me?!”

aka

“I will remember this when I turn 13 and make your life a living hell for 10 years.”

 

We live in a house that was built in 1930. It’s so charming and exactly what we wanted – including the hard wood floors throughout the house. Clearly we didn’t already have a baby when we thought that was so super. Trying to navigate through our house without hitting all the creeks and squeaks in the floor is like playing a game of Minesweeper. You hit one and the whole game blows up in your face. You lose. Start over.

Once you finally get her to sleep, it’s not over. Not even close. You then have to tiptoe about your chores/work/life so as not to arouse her again. It’s at this point that your spouse inevitable makes some sort of ridiculously loud noise. Accidental or not, you give them a glare that says, “If you just woke our baby up so help me I’m going to kill you and chop your body into little pieces.”

Dramatic? Yes. But don’t act like it’s never popped into your head.

Time Bending

Lately I’ve been struck by the paradox of being both proud and sad momma. A close friend of ours warned us right before we had her, “Get ready for life to hit the fast forward button on you.”

Liar.

Chelsea is growing up at warp speed.

She’s all at once trying to roll over, get up on her hands and knees to posture for crawling, sit up, cut teeth, and talk. And she’s getting damn close to accomplishing all of those things.

What happened to my cute little kewpie doll that just hung out and snuggled with me all day?

Don’t get me wrong – I love how well she’s developing. My ears feel like they smile when I listen to her coo and babble. Every new milestone or achievement makes my heart swell with pride and joy for her.

I just wish it would all happen a little slower, or at least feel like it’s happening in normal time.

Note: Before you go feeling too sorry for me, as soon as I finished writing this the two of us laid down and took a nap together. Win.