My little human turned 22 months yesterday. I’m kind of in love with this stage.
I don’t even recall when it happened. But I can now leave the room and not have anxiety about what she is doing, and how many seconds I have before she notices I am gone and starts crying.
She self entertains while I make dinner. Not every night, but it still feels magical when it works.
She can watch Elmo on the iPad for fifteen minutes at a time, without even noticing me.
When we have dinner with friends and their kids, there is an actual kid table. This one blows my mind. But it has happened twice now, so I think it’s an actual thing. On NYE three toddlers sat at our mini princess table, while the adults sat in big chairs around a grown-up table and conversed about things other than kids, mostly. Oddly enough, we are all pregnant again, and will soon be losing this freedom we worked so hard to reach.
This is the first time I have actually sat down to write while my daughter is awake, EVER. Mind you, I’ve had to stop three times now to read her a book, wipe her snotty nose, and stop her from shoving a half eaten Lara bar in to my notebook. But, it is happening.
Coincidently, this also happened yesterday.
We set up the bassinet in our bedroom because this month is the birth month of baby number two. It’s almost funny that the same month we enter a land of freedom with our first child, it’s also the birth month of our second child. What were we thinking?
I’m about to enter the newborn stage again any day now, and I’m forced to remember how poorly I dealt with that stage the first time.
I hate not being able to be productive, make decisions for myself, and not have someone hanging on me 24/7.
The silver lining of round two is that I know it is a finite moment in time. I’m ready to try to enjoy it better the second time around. Not perfectly, I’m sure, but better.
My Mom is the Worst 