Eighteen Months Old
Babygirl (aka The Terrorist) is 18 months old now.
She still has no bangs, but she has wispy curls in the back. Her eyes are still the color of denim before it's washed too much. She has delicate hands and long arms and legs. She is not a roly-poly round baby, despite being "big" when she was born. (Eight pounds, eight ounces.) She is tall and thin.
All she wants to do is go out the front door and walk around the block. The backyard no longer holds any attraction for her. She threw a big fit today because I said, "no, we are not going outside." Then she calmed down, nursed and fell asleep for an hour while I held her.
She just started giving big hugs, the kind where she wraps her hands around our necks. She gave me a few open-mouthed kisses the other day. On Valentine's Day, she gave her daddy a kiss for the first time. She hasn't done it since. She's not a big kisser.
She likes to laugh. She even makes jokes by putting weird stuff on her head or making crazy faces. If someone yells, it startles her and she runs towards me. If the neighbor's dog barks, it scares her. If someone fails to wear their usual coat, it bothers her. She's a creature of habit.
She helps me take care of DaycareKid, who is only 6 weeks younger. She brings me a diaper from his diaper bag every day after lunch when it's time to change him. She likes to toss the stinky diapers in the outside trash can.
Her words include "cold" and "car" and "dark" and "cookie." Her most-frequently used word is "ga-ga." Unfortunately, I have no idea what "ga-ga" means.
Baths are good. Bubbles are bad. Pouring water onto her six-year old brother's head in the bathtub is good. Getting hair washed is bad. Throwing toys out of the tub is good. Clipping fingernails is bad.
She resumed napping for about 10 days, then stopped napping again. She goes to bed at 7 p.m. and sleeps for twelve hours. Twelve hours on, twelve hours off.
She's wearing size 18 month clothes. She likes to pull her clothes off. She'd rather be naked than clothed. She tells me when her diaper is dirty.
She adores laying on people, especially DaycareKid. She seems to be pinning him to the ground in a wrestling move. She dances every day, especially to the Wiggles. She likes Sesame Street. She likes the Teletubbies. She loves books and pencils and pretending to play her brothers' Gameboys.
She would love to ride in her stroller every day. She likes to go for rides in the car.
Her daddy is her new favorite person. She still refuses to allow anyone to hold her but her mommy and her daddy.
She walks up and down the stairs holding on to the wall. She climbs into her booster chair and tries to fasten the belt. She pours out her sippy cup, if she can do it without getting caught. She is outraged if I ever leave the room without her. She helps me by putting clothes into the washer. She'll also put dishes into the sink and trash into the trash compactor.
She tries to pick up the kitty. The kitty does not appreciate that. She still purrs. Both the baby and the kitty.
According to her:
A cow says "ooooo."
A dog says "oo-oo-oo-oo."
A cat purrs.
A frog growls.
She is getting to be a little person, yet she's still so much my baby. I want her to grow, grow quickly, yet I know I will be nostalgic for these sweet days when I am the center of her universe. I wish I could hold these days in my pocket somehow. I look at my twins and their babyhood was just a flash of light and joy and frustration. And here they are, on the cusp of adolescence. I want to enjoy her. I also want her to let me go to the bathroom without freaking out and running after me. I want to sleep in again. I want to go places in the daytime without a child in tow.
I want to freeze time and rush ahead and then come back when I'm refreshed so I can enjoy this more. I must remember that now, today, is all I have guaranteed. Savor it. Don't wish it away.
She still has no bangs, but she has wispy curls in the back. Her eyes are still the color of denim before it's washed too much. She has delicate hands and long arms and legs. She is not a roly-poly round baby, despite being "big" when she was born. (Eight pounds, eight ounces.) She is tall and thin.
All she wants to do is go out the front door and walk around the block. The backyard no longer holds any attraction for her. She threw a big fit today because I said, "no, we are not going outside." Then she calmed down, nursed and fell asleep for an hour while I held her.
She just started giving big hugs, the kind where she wraps her hands around our necks. She gave me a few open-mouthed kisses the other day. On Valentine's Day, she gave her daddy a kiss for the first time. She hasn't done it since. She's not a big kisser.
She likes to laugh. She even makes jokes by putting weird stuff on her head or making crazy faces. If someone yells, it startles her and she runs towards me. If the neighbor's dog barks, it scares her. If someone fails to wear their usual coat, it bothers her. She's a creature of habit.
She helps me take care of DaycareKid, who is only 6 weeks younger. She brings me a diaper from his diaper bag every day after lunch when it's time to change him. She likes to toss the stinky diapers in the outside trash can.
Her words include "cold" and "car" and "dark" and "cookie." Her most-frequently used word is "ga-ga." Unfortunately, I have no idea what "ga-ga" means.
Baths are good. Bubbles are bad. Pouring water onto her six-year old brother's head in the bathtub is good. Getting hair washed is bad. Throwing toys out of the tub is good. Clipping fingernails is bad.
She resumed napping for about 10 days, then stopped napping again. She goes to bed at 7 p.m. and sleeps for twelve hours. Twelve hours on, twelve hours off.
She's wearing size 18 month clothes. She likes to pull her clothes off. She'd rather be naked than clothed. She tells me when her diaper is dirty.
She adores laying on people, especially DaycareKid. She seems to be pinning him to the ground in a wrestling move. She dances every day, especially to the Wiggles. She likes Sesame Street. She likes the Teletubbies. She loves books and pencils and pretending to play her brothers' Gameboys.
She would love to ride in her stroller every day. She likes to go for rides in the car.
Her daddy is her new favorite person. She still refuses to allow anyone to hold her but her mommy and her daddy.
She walks up and down the stairs holding on to the wall. She climbs into her booster chair and tries to fasten the belt. She pours out her sippy cup, if she can do it without getting caught. She is outraged if I ever leave the room without her. She helps me by putting clothes into the washer. She'll also put dishes into the sink and trash into the trash compactor.
She tries to pick up the kitty. The kitty does not appreciate that. She still purrs. Both the baby and the kitty.
According to her:
A cow says "ooooo."
A dog says "oo-oo-oo-oo."
A cat purrs.
A frog growls.
She is getting to be a little person, yet she's still so much my baby. I want her to grow, grow quickly, yet I know I will be nostalgic for these sweet days when I am the center of her universe. I wish I could hold these days in my pocket somehow. I look at my twins and their babyhood was just a flash of light and joy and frustration. And here they are, on the cusp of adolescence. I want to enjoy her. I also want her to let me go to the bathroom without freaking out and running after me. I want to sleep in again. I want to go places in the daytime without a child in tow.
I want to freeze time and rush ahead and then come back when I'm refreshed so I can enjoy this more. I must remember that now, today, is all I have guaranteed. Savor it. Don't wish it away.
posted by Melodee at Thursday, March 04, 2004
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