[I wrote this post yesterday but wordpress wouldn’t let me post. So here I am (HI!) again today, hoping this posts to my BLAWG, like I intend it to, instead of disappearing into the internet wilderness. Thank goodness I saved to word first, right?]
So last week on twitter the topic of vaccination came up, and I found myself in the midst of a debate about it. Pretty quickly I discovered that 140 characters was simply not enough space to speak about such a touchy topic without sounding like a douche. There is a place for being concise, but this conversation wasn’t one of them.
So then I wrote a blog post about it. And then I realized THIS was not the space to discuss it either. I’m WILLING to discuss it, but I guess it has to be in person, where body language and inflection and all that can be accurately communicated. ESPECIALLY since I am not of one side or the other, but rather see BOTH sides, which is a very lonely place to be in when it comes to polarizing topics.
Blah blah blah. Whatever. Moving on!
THE BABY is 11 months old today. If you are like me, you are growing (or have already grown) quite weary of ladeez of the internetz forlornly expressing their sadness at their baby growing up. Well, guess what!– I am one of those ladeez. I… ELEVEN MONTHS YOU GUYS. If you want to know the truth, it’s a miracle I’ve lived through the past 11 months. Olive, if nothing else, provides solid proof that you cannot, in fact, be killed by sleep deprivation. Wait. *I* provide that proof, because here I am, alive and well, and only occasionally crabby enough at my kids that I beg for mercy at then end of the day.
(No, really, I did this. More than once. I’ve BEGGED my older three to just GO TO BED for the love, Mommy’s TOO TIRED TO BE NICE… and the sad thing is, they saw my exhaustion and went quietly to bed. If it weren’t for the GUILT, that would be a bedtime win, FOR SURE.)
(She doesn’t even LOOK like a almost-one-year-old!)
Despite the ever-creeping-closer first birthday, I really do love this age of babyhood. Olive is such a PERSON, now. She has started to have a temper, throwing her head back into a mighty howl when something makes her angry, or just as likely, cracking up over things she finds totally HILARE. I can see her LEARNING THINGS, like how to put the little wooden shapes back on their pegs. She does animal noises (gorilla, fish, puppy, kitty), So Big, and claps her hands. She knows a few baby signs but mostly still refuses to use them, instead making this GAWDAWFUL noise when she wants “more” or “milk”. (Remember that scene in Forest Gump where he overhears his mom having sex and when she comes out on the porch he starts imitating her? THAT’S THE PRECISE NOISE SHE MAKES. It’s…. special, that’s for sure.)
She can climb stairs, both up and down, swinging one leg over the edge like an old pro and heading down. She says a few words: mommm, Annnn-ahhh (one of her sister’s names in real life; she calls all three of them this), uh-oh, ba-bye!, what’s that (always whispered), and Alllll- duhhh (all done). She gives open-mouthed, slobbery kisses. She stands at a laundry basket forever, furiously shaking each piece before flinging it literally over her shoulder. She insists on eating off of a fork for certain things, and will hand us the fork for us to stab the food, then take it back and (try to) feed herself (better success all the time), and then hand it back to us. She can give you five and the other day I saw her trying to KNOCK (instead of slap) on a door.
It’s all so fantastic, how fast babies learn. Four babies in, and I never grow tired of it. So despite her demonic sleeping habits, she’s pretty wonderful. I SUPPOSE WE’LL KEEP HER. (She lays her head on my shoulder and then PATS MY BACK, you guys.)