Crawling babies are dangerous. They creep around on all fours looking to destroy things, checking out the little details you forgot about because you're four feet taller and can't see under the couch. They're stealthy, like midget ninjas. Very scary stuff, here.
I have been keeping one eye glued on my kid ever since he started trying to launch himself from a crawl position. He has yet to be fully mobile, but he's trying every which way to get from point A to point B. He scoots, when he can, and now he's actually on his hands and knees eyeballing that loose wire sticking out of the floorboards. He is concentrating on it so intensely I fear he is calling upon The Force to bring it to him so he can clamp his little drooly mouth on it. Frightening.
Nine months has been an adventure so far. A scary, brain-melting adventure that is sure to kill me from a massive heart attack.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Without a Trace
Hi there. I know I've been absent for a month. The twelve people who read this blog may be wondering, "Gee, what happened?" I'll tell you what happened. Seven months happened.
It seems that there is a turbo charger build into babies that mature at exactly the seven month mark. When that day hits, the turbo charger revs up and BOOM! Your life is complete chaos and hysteria for God knows how long. That's what happened, and that's why I've been completely off the map for four weeks.
At six months I thought, "Eh, this isn't so bad. He's a little squirmy, but nothing I can't handle."
At six and a half months I thought, "Well, he's a handful, but I can keep up with him. At least he's not crawling yet.
At seven months I though, "Holy Baby Jesus, save me. Who fed the baby a double espresso?!"
And now, at eight and a half months, I feel as though my brain has been scrambled. Keeping up with this big baby has been keeping me at my wits' end. How am I supposed to keep up the pace when he's turned into an octopus baby, complete with sticky gecko-like fingertips that seem to grab everything in less than a micro-second?
Yesterday, after my husband came home from work, I handed him the baby and I literally fell down. For no apparent reason. Yup, just FELL DOWN.
I AM DOOMED.
It seems that there is a turbo charger build into babies that mature at exactly the seven month mark. When that day hits, the turbo charger revs up and BOOM! Your life is complete chaos and hysteria for God knows how long. That's what happened, and that's why I've been completely off the map for four weeks.
At six months I thought, "Eh, this isn't so bad. He's a little squirmy, but nothing I can't handle."
At six and a half months I thought, "Well, he's a handful, but I can keep up with him. At least he's not crawling yet.
At seven months I though, "Holy Baby Jesus, save me. Who fed the baby a double espresso?!"
And now, at eight and a half months, I feel as though my brain has been scrambled. Keeping up with this big baby has been keeping me at my wits' end. How am I supposed to keep up the pace when he's turned into an octopus baby, complete with sticky gecko-like fingertips that seem to grab everything in less than a micro-second?
Yesterday, after my husband came home from work, I handed him the baby and I literally fell down. For no apparent reason. Yup, just FELL DOWN.
I AM DOOMED.
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