10 Months 3 Weeks

She’s independent. She’s Mama don’t cuddle me, I’m playing. I have my books and stuffed animals, and I commandeered these measuring cups, and I am really busy. And then she’s looking at me with those pleading eyes, the duplicate of her father, in a tiny body, with delicate features; Mama; I need you now. Don’t you see? My book won’t open, and my cup is empty. And can’t you see my arms? I’m holding them toward you. But when you pick me up don’t you hold me like a baby. And she’s kicking, and screaming in glee; What mama? I’m a little teapot? Oh, do it again and again and again. And I think that deserves a kiss. A snotty, slobbery, toothy kiss. And then she’s off. Into the cupboards. Over the coffee table. Through the gap between the wall and the couch. She’s Mama don’t give me TOYS. I want a remote. A phone. A spatula. A phone charger or salt shaker. And mama? I’m going to scream when you take them away. She’s all kisses, and few snuggles. She’s a diaper baby. She’s don’t you dare put clothes on me, woman. It is a hindrance to my playtime, can’t you see? She’s daring and creative. She’s climbing over the furniture, dancing on her rocking chair; look ma, no hands. I got this. Just you wait. I’m going to give you a heart attack. She’s I don’t need a nap. Please don’t bring me into that room. Please, please, please. Oh, wait, *yawn,* and cuddle, I guess I could close my eyes. She’s I want to feed myself now. No more spoons. Please, let me use these fingers. Look- I’ll even share (at least what I don’t want). She know what she likes. She’s serve me broccoli again? Okay, THAT’S going to the dog. And so is the quesadilla. I want a flour tortilla. Oh, but keep the cheese cubes coming. She’s sure, I’ll say dog-dog and dada all day long. But don’t even try mama… I’m not ready. Don’t push me, please. She’s my little (surprisingly) independent and daring daughter. She was worth thirty-nine weeks of pregnancy  Thirty or so hours of labor. Two hours of pushing. She’s perfect. Watching her grow and change is amazing. She was worth it. Worth everything. 

Because you can’t walk away with only corny memories of this short post.

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3 thoughts on “10 Months 3 Weeks

  1. It also took awhile for my daughter to call me Mommy. She was using the word Dada really early on too. I was some other word before becoming Ommy. My husband said maybe it was because she saw me as an extension of herself. I don’t even remember when exactly did she start calling me Mommy… It will just happen =)

  2. You had me before this, but “look ma, no hands” got me…just like her daddy, that one:) Enjoying your blog, usually sit down with a cup of tea, and read…

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