So, after promising no more long hiatii (also promising to find out what exactly the plural of hiatus is), I took another long one. If anyone had ever explained to me just exactly how tired you can get if you work 10 hours a day and have a toddler and are 21 weeks pregnant, I never would have believed them. I also would have quit my job and never had sex again.
Needless to say, nobody ever explained it to me, and here I am, as you see me now, hauling my ever-increasing ass around behind me in a sling. Yes, Internet, I am dumb. Trust me when I say that I will never, ever do this again. Husband is going to take up residence on the couch until I hit menopause. And he better take one of the babies with him.
So much has happened - blah blah blah school, blah blah blah work, blah blah blah grading, blah blah blah going to the hospital to have a drinking straw shoved into my kidney in a feeble attempt to keep the softball that lives there from plugging it up and killing me. Those are the small things.
Then there are the *big* things. Super big. Huge! The Bear now walks. On two feet. Like a human! (And it only took her 15 months, for those of you who are counting and secretly gloating that your child is more developmentally advanced than mine. And to you, I say, "Bite me.") She also has a vocabulary of more than 20 words and several signs. Her latest words include "rocker" (she got a Bear-sized rocking chair recently) and "oh, no!" which she uses whenever something doesn't quite suit her (can't find daddy, all out of bananas, dropped the toy, etc.) It's pretty cute - she sounds very distressed when she says it. She stacks blocks (and various other things - sliced carrots, for example) and then knocks them down. She is obsessed with keys and locks. If the lock is big enough, she will stick the key into it. If not, she will still try diligently for ages to make it work. She also likes tools. A lot. And books, and playing the piano. She actually pokes one note at a time with her pointer finger, rather than banging her fists on it, which is nice. Husband plays, and sometimes they play little duets. Very charming, if I do say so myself.
So, here's a little story which pretty much illustrates what life is like at my house. Husband dresses the Bear and takes her to daycare in the mornings. He's on a late shift, so they play for a few hours and have breakfast when she gets up, which is very cool for them. Then he goes to work, and I pick her up when I get off. Being a man, his taste in little girl clothes is not always what it should be. The other day I went to pick her up only to find her dressed in a plaid flannel shirt. The daycare ladies were singing the lumberjack song and she was dancing to it. (Since she is still bald, she totally looked like a boy. Rar.) Then, when it got cold, I left a note reminding Husband to put a coat on her. When I picked her up, she had a coat in a 6 month size, which covered hardly any of her belly - and a hood that only covered the back of her head. THEN I picked her up just yesterday and saw that her shirt was on *backwards*, with buttons up the front and a little tag sticking out under her chin. I wrote a very snotty note to Husband about how he should take the same care in dressing her that he does in dressing himself - make sure it fits, put it on the right way. I was a little superior-sounding, in that whole I'm-the-mommy-and-only-I-can-do-it-the-right-way tone that we mothers can get. Then, after watching the last game of the Series (yay, Sox!) I went upstairs to bed. As I fumbled around for my jammies, I took off my maternity pants only to realize that I HAD BEEN WEARING THEM BACKWARD. ALL. DAY. LONG. Big fat maternity elastic? In the back... I had to erase my note because I didn't want to be a hypocrite. No more getting dressed in the dark for me! Also? I need more sleep!