I just can’t handle it. It’s like I don’t even know who these people are. Brother’s birth is speeding towards us, and it’s got me waxing poetic about our first months with his big sister. I never would have guessed back then, watching her bee-bop in her jumperoo, that she would one day be a big sister. To a little brother!
Her little legs were so short; Daddy had to pile some blankets to make it work. She loved that thing. I loved it, because she did…but I also hated it so much I wanted to blindfold it and leave it on someone’s doorstep. It played this Pop Goes the Weasel song ad naseum.
No wonder someone wanted to pop a weasel.
Then, she discovered her tongue. How happy and sweet is this baby? That’s part of her Tootie doll you see laying there. And now she’s known as Tootie, too, so the sweet factor is right up there with cupcake icing.
This picture shows how she would dump out the entire box of toys and use the box as a seat. So much cozier, don’t you know? Note the Tupperware and the loofah. High rollin’ up in here.
She already seems so grown to me these days. Getting her own waffles out of the freezer and putting them in the toaster and pushing the button down. Getting dressed by herself – when she darn well feels like it, thanks very much. And mostly in mismatched clothes, but hey. She somehow pulls it off. Plus, when she adds her “fishin’ fedora?” It WORKS. She owns it. Best Wal-Mart purchase ever.
Back then, it was sun hats. All day, all the time. Because SUNBURN, people. Have you seen us? This picture shows how the first thing I did most every day after work was plop down outside with her, work pants and all.
When she was this small, the evenings after work seemed timeless. Once I got settled and fed us, so much time spread before us before the bedtime routine. Now? It feels like an announcer in my ear as I park the suburban, “…aaaaand GO!”
This is where I juggle giving her attention, listening to Grandma, playing with her, unpacking my stuff, changing my clothes, starting supper, and looking for Daddy. Truly, I’m never satisfied. When Daddy IS there and they go outside to feed or play? Well, then I get to calmly and quickly get settled and get supper on the table…BUT I’M MISSING EVERYTHING!
And I’m already so exhausted by this same old heavy complaint…I gotta give it a rest.
Her latest fascination is playing restaurant. She wants you to sit at one of her little tables, and she wants to set the table and take your order…or she wants YOU to be the waitress while she gives her order. This morning, she went to Brady’s side of the bed (where he was still contemplating if Wednesday was even gonna happen) and said she was gonna be the waitress. She got her sugars from Dadder and then just stood there.
She ran back to me in the kitchen and asked, “What does the waitress do first again?”
“She asks what she can get you to drink!”
So she runs back in and asks, “Well, what would you like to drink?”
He says Coke. I move to actually make him one, to which she responds, “Mama, this is just for pretend.”
So he just got a little plastic kitchenette cup full of air. That got him jumpin’ out of bed with a mission and a purpose.
Maybe tonight we’ll go slow and really take our time and forget to look at the clock and play restaurant big-time, with pretend menus and coloring pages and the whole nine-yards….and if any cooks or waitresses wanna show up to do the heavy lifting, the door will be UN.LOCKED.