Sunday, July 1, 2018

30 + 13 MONTHS.

I have about half an hour left of nap time, and I should be doing something, but Emily will be 14 months this weekend, and I have yet to write up any kind of post on her here I am.

And I'm including an update on myself, because we're basically one person, and also because this is 2018 and the internet is scary, so I've decided my social media accounts are about me. *with a SIDE of Emily since like I said, we're basically one person. Can't help it. The only real documentation of our lives together that I've done so far has been this little bullet journal, I'll link it >> HERE << but I basically send it to every new Mom that I know because I personally just found it so overwhelming to try and keep a baby book while I was drowning the past year. Some nights, it was hard enough just to write down a sentance that summed up our day. Some recent ones I've looked back on from last year, when she was just about two months old are...

- "today felt like 100 hours."
- "told myself I was a bad Mom."
- "Emily cried, and I cried."

So, you see. I wasn't exactly the kind of new Mom who was taking pretty pictures and thinking about how wonderful everything had become. I was quite angry actually. makes me sad, but at the same time, not really because LOOK AT US NOW! Sharing a pint of ice cream together, like two peas in a pod. Which we totally are! I feel like the real turning point came when she started walking, about a week after her first birthday. Ever since then, we've each gotten some independence (Praise Jesus) and it's been so good for us both. I get to do things, like clean -- and she does whatever she wants. Which is usually getting into things that are definitely not hers, but it's fine. I like to let her be her. Her favorite activities since becoming a walker are..

- Walking around yelling "DA." For the Dog.
- Empyting out the kitchen cupboards, 100x a day.
- Climbing INTO the dishwasher, and leaving with all of my straws...
- Bringing us the same Valentines Day book over, and over and over.
- Walking herself into her bedroom for her "blanket" which is actually not a blanket at all, but her Halo Sleep Sack which she's completely obsessed with.

John keeps saying how he feels so bad for her because she doesn't have a real blanket, and I'm like.."SHE HAS 400." She just wants the Sleep Sack! Doesn't bother me. It's like how I wear the same raggety ass sweat pants all the time, even though I have much nicer ones. It's just a comfort thing!

But back to the walking, because I feel like I waited forever for it. My favorite is that now what we can semi-communicate + she's mobile, when I say "let's go for a walk" -- SHE WILL GO TO THE GARAGE DOOR. Or when it's "time to get in the tub" -- SHE WILL WALK HERSELF TO THE BATHROOM. Lately, she walks herself to our bathroom, lol..but that's fine. Like I said! I let her be her so if she wants to get in my tub instead, that's fine! She's only saying a few words..everything is "this." And besides the occasional "MAM," they're more noises than actual words, but it's crazy how you one day, there's this baby who you're not even sure if they realize they're on this planet -- and then a year later, they're pointing at things and trying to help you put the top on your water bottle, and imitating everything that you do...

It's scary. I knew being a Mom was a big job, and I was pretty sure I had learned a lot from my own Mom because, I just figured. But seeing Emily learn directly from ME? It's FREAKY. The day I saw her take my hairbrush and put it to her head, I was like...uh. Shoot. What else have you been watching me do?

It's a big, big job. Should I be sharing a pint of ice cream with her? I really don't know, probably not. But I guess the real story behind this is that I'm working through some things. ALWAYS THE FOOD RELATED THINGS. (Will there be an end to this story, ever? I don't know.) Once last summer, when Emily was still an alien baby, unsure what planet she was on -- I found myself in the pantry while John was outside cutting the grass, and I was dipping a spoon into a jar of peanut butter, and then alternating it with a spoonful of Nutella. The best combo, am I right? Except, it wasn't at all joyful like those Nutella commercials where the family's smiling while eating a "healthy, balanced breafast of Nutella on whole wheat toast." (Eye roll.) I was shame eating. Who knows why. I remember I was trying really hard to stick to my macro plan, and clearly it wasn't working. (Because it never would.) But I remember finally noticing that Emily was in my arms....

Like, I was doing the same thing she was. Living my life with her always attached to me, but not realizing what was going on. Because she wasn't walking or talking yet, and was just this...crying, sleeping prop like a baby doll you're forced to babysit from Home Ec. It didn't even occur to me that what I was doing mattered until then. So, now. I guess where I'm at is, if I'm eating the thing, she's going to see me. And I don't know if what I'm doing is wrong or right. And maybe there's no such thing, but all I can do is try my best to be a decent example. And the truth of the matter is, I am recovering, and learning..and I'd like to think there's no shame in that. Yet, here I am. Sharing ice cream with my daughter. Clearly I am conflicted, but I think we're in a good place.

Growing together.

2 p's. 

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