Sanity, oh how I've missed you

I was in kind of a bad place a few weeks back. There was one morning where I said to DH "I feel like I'm going crazy and nobody cares." I did not mean this in a haha sort of way. Not to demean those who are actually going crazy; I've had a front row seat for that performance before, and I knew I was in a different place.  But at the same time, I was going crazy inside.  DH was working all the time.  MJ was adjusting her napping routine (no thanks to daycare, who has mandated one nap a day) and was cranky every time I saw her.  I felt like everything was falling on my shoulders.  I didn't just feel this way, I knew that it was true.

But then my mom came to visit.  We had an initial rough patch.  Then I came down with some sort of 6 day stomach flu, complete with the worst pain I've had since labor, and it was such a relief to have her here.  To be the one being mothered rather than doing the mothering.  We worked through our differences and really had a wonderful visit.  She stayed for 3 weeks, a long time to have any house guest, but I was still sad to see her go.

We have started to get back into our old routine.  The first day after my mom's departure we both came thudding back to reality, remembering what it's like to come home and never be able to relax.  But some things have changed.  DH is picking up fewer shifts, meaning I am not doing as much solo parenting.  We have started to pay someone to come clean for us, and they are absolutely superb.  It's expensive, but the amount of sanity and peace it brings me has so far been worth every penny.  And I signed up for an art class, the first thing I've done just-for-me since MJ was born.  Yes, I've had beers with friends and had some me-time afternoons.  But this feels different, and I'm psyched about it.  I'll post pics when I have something to show.

I've talked to a few women whose blogs petered out after their little one's first birthday.  I will try my darnedest not to let that happen here.  But feel free to call me out if you haven't heard from me in a while....

But she is awfully cute.

Just a reminder to myself that, tantrums and all, she is the cutest human ever to see the inside of my uterus.  Or the outside of it, for that matter.

Early onset terrible twos

Our first verifiable temper tantrum. We've had two others, while at home, with no witnesses. But yesterday, while searching for a toybox at Ikea, I dared take MJ's baby kong away. While I thank the Cheerio gods for inventing such a portable snack, and the baby kong gods for inventing a way to let her snack whilst at Ikea, she was still managing to get Cheerios in every particle board crack possible. So I took it away, and she started flailing on the ground. This elicited snickers from passersby at first, and it was funny to see such a determined little human. But it just escalated. Oy.

I am not ready for this. I know that temper tantrums come hand in hand with toddlerhood, but I thought that was the 2-year-old variety of toddlerhood. This time grandma was present to verify that the flailing, inconsolable child I call mine was indeed having a temper tantrum. I spent some time googling last night. The danger-age is 1-4, so we're officially in tantrum territory.

So yep, the Moms is in town. I'm lucky she puts up with me, even though she kind of drives me nuts. I can tell I kind of drive her nuts, too. This is my own future. Right now, when MJ drives me nuts, I can blame it on the age, the maturity level, etc. But in the end, even when we're both full grown adults, we will still drive each other nuts. Kind of nuts, if we're lucky, and full-blown-never-speak-except-for-holidays if we're not so lucky. Like my daughter, I am something of a drama queen, imagining the worst just because my child has a temper tantrum. Are we in for a prolonged toddlerhood, or are we just getting it out of the way early?

Get this girl a runway.

Combined with her Queen's wave, MJ is definitely practicing for a red carpet event.  I think she's going to skip the princess phase altogether.  She's currently trying to establish the one-shoe-look as the trend of the season.  

The working mom blog that never talks about work

I advertise this as a working mom blog.  Because I work.  And I'm a mom.  But really, I rarely talk about W*RK.  Largely because I don't want to Dooce myself.  And I'm not very good at being honest whilst being funny whilst not saying things I shouldn't.  Perhaps you remmeber this post?  Yep, got in trouble from the hubs for that one.  I tend to reveal more than I should.

Anyway, I recently flirted with the idea of stopping the PhD and teaching community college.  I met a great lady and blogger who happened to be looking for someone to teach as well, it all seemed so perfect.  But it turns out teaching is hard.  I knew that, to be fair.  But I realized it's just not for me.  Every day I got to come back to the lab and not teach was glorious.

What really happened is that an awesome job opportunity came about right as I was starting back to work after maternity leave.  And going back to work was REALLY hard.  The first couple months in particular.  But going to a job I didn't like was even harder, even if I knew it was a stellar opportunity.  It reminded me why I chose the path I did.  Why I started back to graduate school.  Why I chose to study geology and climate.  Why I love the freedom that graduate school and academia allows, even if the pay isn't all that great.

It gets easier.  The first few months back, all I did was miss MJ.  But at some point, I realized I had my self back.  I didn't even realize I had missed her, I had been so focused on my child. So to anyone in the midst of going back, the best thing I can tell you is that it gets easier.  If you like your job, in particular.  I realize I am lucky in this, to have a job I love and not need to find a better paying job.

But I have this great thing right now.  I have work/life balance.  It seems almost impossible to find, and I'm told it's even harder with a second child, but I have it.  And I don't think I could have found it without work, because, much as I love my child and love spending time with her, my life would not have been balanced.  It would have been happy, but it would have been unbalanced.  So maybe, more than seeking what makes you happy, it's important to seek balance.  And balance will give you happiness.

Presents? I don't need no stinking presents.

MJ had a bit of difficulty with the concept of opening presents. Sitting on them was about as far as she got.  Her birthday was a blast, particularly by the time we go to the opening presents phase.  Everyone had eaten, everyone was satiated, I could finally relax and enjoy some MJ time.

On a side note, this is the face that DH and I have started to make when we're provoking each other, doing something we know we're not supposed to do.  Someday she'll be embarrassed by this, but we'll continue to explain that she started it.

MILFdom and gender bending friendships

I'm fairly certain I got hit on at Starbucks today.

On Sunday, whilst preparing for MJ's party (the details of which I still owe you), I put my hand directly on a yellowjacket.  I haven't done great at not cursing in front of MJ, but that was a whole new territory of "not great".  Before my ring finger swelled up, I decided I should take my wedding ring off. 

So I'm going ringless for a few days.  Mr. Guy at Starbucks appeared old enough to have done the ring-finger-check.  It's nice to know I still got it.  Though Mr. Guy doesn't know that there used to be a lot more of "it", and his lack of suave suggests he was just going after the weakest gazelle on the savanna, it's still nice.  Before getting married I told DH that one of my goals in life was to be a MILF.  I never specified whose definition of MILF that would be.   

On an only-slightly-related note, I've lately been pondering the subject of friendship between men and women.  I remember (or, possibly, misremember) a conversation between my stepmom and I when I was a teenager and swore that some boy was "just a friend".  She told me that it's impossible for men and women to be just friends.  At the time I thought she was totally wrong, but after many (like, 5) dates-that-I-didn't-realize-were-dates-until-some-guy-tried-to-kiss-me in college, I started to wonder if she's right.  Not in the they-can-never-be-friends sense, but in the they-can-never-be-CLOSE-friends sense.  The kind of friend you have deep conversations with, tell secrets to, etc. 

Furthermore, the desire to have guys as "just friends" is seemingly far stronger from women than men.  Nearly every woman I know claims that "most of her friends are guys", which is mathematically impossible.  Granted, most the women I know are somehow related to Geology, so for this group it may be true.  But it extends beyond that.  In contrast, I have never met a straight man who claims that "most of his friends are women".  Men seem to understand the "impossibility".

So what do you think?  Is it impossible?  Do you even care to have close friends of the opposite sex?

One year

On the eve of the anniversary of your birth, you are asleep. Even after two 2-hour naps, you were ready to fall asleep by 6. We stretched it to 7. This means it could be a rough night, so I better write this before I get too grumpy with you.

Little girl, I love you whole hog. I'm sorry that I sometimes get grumpy with you. I try to remind myself ::over:: and ::over:: and ::over:: again how short each little moment is. We are currently with dad at a conference. The most family friendly conference I've ever seen, which is pretty great. Today you got to splash in the waterpark and play at the arcade and run through a huge field. But I see all these moms-of-tweens jealously eyeing you, missing their own babies baby-days. This year has flown by, and I know it will only continue to go faster.

Last year at this time I didn't quite know when you'd arrive, but I knew it'd be soon. Each day seemed like an eternity. Now each day is an instant.

What are you doing at 1 year?

You walk like a wild woman. Everyone quizzically looks at you and says "Wow, she's awfully young to be walking" and I say "No, she's almost a year, she's just a peanut". And you are a peanut. You've been consistently at the 15th percentile, and I wouldn't be surprised if you've even dropped a little. I think that the massive quantities of food we feed you go into fueling your constant motion, and that you never sit still enough for body fat to accumulate.

You started in the older infant room this past week. They said you walked right in like you'd been there for a year, and apparently are no longer enamoured with Baby-Boy-S now that there are older boys to flirt with. They say you're very good and very smart. Of course I love to hear these things, and as every mom is convinced of their own, I'm sure you're the cutest-and-the-smartest-and-the-best ad nauseam. I am far more traumatized by you already moving to the next grade than you are.

You are actually more cuddly than you used to be. Now that you've found some measure of independence and can get where you want to go, you have decided it's okay to come back and snuggle with Mom. This is one of my favorite developments. You will sometimes nap with your head on my shoulder, as you did today, and it is the most heart warming moment of my week.

You are not much for being read to, though I endeavour to change this. You are far too interested in turning the pages yourself or walking off with the book to sit still enough for me to read to you.

You torment Vito, though not too badly. You love to dance. You have recently discovered the TV. You like to feed Vito his dog food. You like to wear my purse around your neck like a St. Bernard brandy barrel. You love all fruit, particularly melon and blueberries. You hate hummus. You love to flirt with strangers, and will make little, insistent sounds until they pay attention to you. You say "mama" and "dada" and "hi", and you sign "milk", "food" and "more". You are a pretty good though highly erratic sleeper. You love to climb up everything, including your dresser.

You may be the mosttraumatic but are certainly thebest thing that has ever happened to your dad and I. Happy birthday munchkin.

A photo that captures how I feel.

I love taking photos. I'm not a photographer, I just like to capture a moment to help my poor memory hold on to it. But the downside is that I rarely end up in the photos. It's a small price to pay to have my own vision the one of record. But sometimes, DH picks up the camera. And sometimes the results are beautiful.  And I don't even recognize myself.  Or my daughter, sitting calmly, staring off into the distance.  And yet it captures a brief instant in time that I desperately try to hold on to, because they're rare moments.  This was a gift that I don't even think you knew you were giving me.

I love upstate New York.  I love my daughter.  I can't believe she's almost 1. 

We went to the fair yesterday, and I constantly thought about last year at this time.  On the dawn of giving birth.  Not even being able to conceptualize what my life would be like afterward.  How painful walking even a block was.  The impatience.  The fear.  Life is good right now.  It's nice to have my body back.  And my mind, even if my life is permanently altered.   Life 1 year later is glorious.  I never thought of myself as a motherly person, but, if you're lucky, your own child will make you motherly.  And that's all you really need.

I'm ready to admit I have a toddler.

We are back from an exhausting, whirlwind trip to hubs' homeland of upstate New York. It was gloriously beautiful. Rolling hills. Greenness all around. It made me homesick for a place I'm not even from, though I did live there for 4 years.

And MJ got to practice turning 1. DH's aunts confirmed that, although she is a little bundle of quantum energy, hubs was even more extreme. I didn't think it was possible. But she was all cuteness, all the time. We woke up at 3:15 this morning to come back to the Minn, and are all at work today. So after 5 hours of traveling with a squirming, restless little girl, I am ready admit. She's a toddler.

Gender neutral is complicated.*

God love my husband, but it turns out I'm better at dressing a little girl than he is.  This is not a slight in the least, I'd be uncomfortable if this statement weren't true.  But I giggle a little inside (or outside) when I pick MJ up from daycare and she is wearing a dress that he put on backwards. 

As a consequence, she frequently looks like a boy when Dad dresses her.  This is not his fault, this is a consequence of the fact that if a baby isn't wearing pink then said baby must be a boy.  I think this is true until teen years, at which time girls wear things much too short for them so it's clear they're a girl.  This presents a much larger problem, which I thankfully won't have to worry about for at least a few years.

On this particular day, MJ looked like this:

Which is utterly adorable.  But Tim at the ice cream shop understandably thought that she was a he.  And I didn't correct him, because when you correct someone's mistaken gender assignment of a baby they get all flustered and embarrassed.  So I've gotten in the habit of just smiling and nodding, because I don't personally care if they think MJ is a boy.  She doesn't seem to care either as she licks sand out of the crack in the sidewalk. 

But what I thought was going to be a 10 second conversation turned into a 10 minute conversation as the line snaked through the ice cream shop on the 98 degree day.  And Tim was a very nice old man, rather fun to talk to.  He didn't notice at first as hubs used female pronouns to refer to our daughter, he continued to think "boy".  And then he asked what his name was, and we were too far in, so I just said "MJ" (never before realizing how convenient it is that she has both a she- and a he-name.)  So  hubs started using male pronouns realizing there was no way out.  But then Tim introduced MJ to a cute little baby girl, saying that when they're older they can date.  And then I think hubs realized the absurdity of the whole situation (not that he hadn't before, I'm sure), no longer cared about humoring my plan and reverted to female pronouns.  And started using her given, very she-name. 

At this point, Tim looked confused.  And his pity for our daughter was clear, thinking that she was the product of two overly liberal parents who don't even know (or care) about the gender of their child.  Or maybe we're just raising Pop.  The role of gender in a child so young is intriguing to me.  It seems like there shouldn't be, but our daycare staff claim that often a strong attachment forms between a baby boy and a baby girl that will carry on through toddlerhood, but that they've never seen one form between babies of the same gender.  Which leads me to wonder, if you had a daycare completely filled with the children of gay and lesbian couples, would the same statement be true?  At this young age, how much is instinct and how much is conditioning? Though probably the most shocking thing to me about raising this child has been how little say we get in her personality.  I was always more of a "blank slate" proponent, but after raising MJ I can no longer follow this train of thought. 

I currently dress you in a lot of pink, little girl, trying to get my fill before you are able to assert your opinion.  But know that you are free to choose whatever orientation you want when the time comes, even if it means confusing old men like Tim.

*And another instance when matching outfits are adorable.

My photography skillz are going to have to get better

She moves fast now.  She is not the stationary little target she was a few months ago.  I get one shot, maybe two, and they are usually blurry.  Meaning I've got to learn what I'm doing, rather than just taking 50 pictures in the hopes that one will turn out okay.

This is my little toddler.  On a recent trip to Babies-R-Us I realized they have nothing for us anymore.  In one year's time, we have bought an entire store worth of merchandise.  I used to feel overwhelmed by that place, terrified by the targeted commercialism of parenthood.  Not only am I no longer scared of it, I own it all.  Not everything, obviously, but probably one or more of every category.  Sheesh.  We have a small storage room in the basement which is now FULL of baby stuff.  Because someday we'll have another.  And it could be a girl.  So I need ALL off this.  But I digress.  Because see those cute little pink shoes above?  Baby shoes are just about the cutest item in the world.  Parenthood commercialism, I lurv it.

11 months.

Here's you at 11 months. 

Happy.

Precocious.

Those have been constants in your life.

Thankfully, this month you learned a little bit of the fear, thanks to a few minor injuries in your early early attempts at walking.  This slowed you down a bit, caused you to think about what you were doing instead of just charging full speed ahead. Despite my earlier pronouncement, only now are you really becoming a walker.  And you're so proud of yourself, all grins and laughs at your new found skill.

In the last couple weeks language has begun to dawn on you.  You've been saying mama for quite a while, but now you seem to understand that it applies to me.  Granted, you say it for just about everything else in the world, but it seems to be reserved for things you like so I'm okay with it.  You are also learning "Dada", "No", and "Duck" (though that last one might just be a variant of "Dada").

And you have a boyfriend.  Baby boy S.  Whom you kiss, and hold hands with, and share your toys with.  I find this disturbing.  But crazy cute.  You love your beach ball.  You love when we crawl on the ground with you.  And you love life. 

The other day I was standing in line at Ikea, and you were a hot mess. Your Dad took you to the car while I paid. A teenage girl standing in line behind me asked her Dad "Do you remember when I was that small?" and he smiled and said yes. Then she asked if she was a difficult baby and he laughed a knowing laugh, but didn't answer. It's hard to picture you as that teenage girl, but I know it will happen. And you will ask me that same question, and I will miss all your hot-mess-baby-moments.

The only time matching outfits are acceptable

is when they're accidental. Prepare to be bowled over by cuteness.

Remember the fiasco/joyous time that was the cabin I told you about? It involved two other babies. The only thing cuter than my child is my child surrounded by OTHER babies (I'm a little partial over here.) When we all realized that we had independently bought the same outfit for our children, in 3 different colors (thank you Carter's for spamming the world with your clothing) the natural conclusion is a lineup. We really should have given them numbers.

And then, on top of it, our neighbor the photographer shone his talents on our daughters. Naturally, my favorites are the ones with MJ front and center, but they're all pretty darn cute.

We already have a rent-a-cop keeping the boys from entering our block without an escort.

See my child in the back there? This is one of MJ's favorite poses. Tears don't convey enough of the dramz, the backwards head flail really seals the deal for her. This is because we just took away her cell phone and told her her boyfriend can't spend the night. 

But, thankfully, the offense was quickly forgotten. Happiness, smiles.

This is the face she makes when she's about to kiss Baby Boy S. It works for now but once she has braces she may go for a more subtle approach.

Cloth diapering... what I wish I'd known then

This is an update to my last cloth diaper post.  A few things that have changed, or not changed, since then.  Nothing dramatic, mind you.  Still very happy with our cloth dipaers and our laundry methods.  Just a few notes.  I'm not claiming I wasn't told these exact same things.  But when you discover it for yourself it seems like you were the first one to discover it.  So here's some cloth diapering realizations I've been pondering lately...

1.  They really do reach an age where they can take the diaper off.  And it turns out it's easier to take a velcro diaper off than a snap one.  If we keep some sort of onesie on her it's fine.  And I suspect that once she figures out how to take the onesie off then a snap on diaper will be no match for her either.  For this reason, and the fact that the velcro on our one-size diapers is fraying a bit, I've started rethink my velcro-love-snap-hate stance.  I still prefer velcro, hate putting a snap-on diaper on her (she's far too squirmy for the extra 3-seconds it takes.)  Would I change my original stance?  Probably not.  But if I had a less active child I might.

2.  We've rediscovered prefolds thrown in a cover.  They are great.  We have again started using our orange-edge newborn prefolds from Greenmountaindiapers.com months after I retired them.  They actually work better just tri-folded than they used to, because the covers that fit MJ are now large enough that the preolds easily fit in the cover.  Furthermore, since MJ is mostly on solids, she doesn't pee boatloads like she used to and these easily contain all the fluid.  If she wasn't in daycare we could easily survive on these prefolds and thirsties covers.  Cheap and just as easy as our fancy-pants bumgenius.  Maybe a few others for night time.  But that's all it would take.

3.  The nasty poop that happens as they transition to solids is only temporary.  It gets better, I promise.  There were a couple months of sheer grossness from her half-liquid half-solid poops.  I dreaded spraying her diapers.  Now it has gotten better.  As a side note, if you hate spraying diapers as much as I do, these diaper liners are a great compromise.  Oh yeah, and we've had to start washing on hot.  Turns out her poops have gotten smellier.

4.  Who knew that diaper laundry would become my husband's favorite chore?  He sees it as saving money every time he does them, and gets immense joy out of it.  Pass this along to any husband doubters.  Secrely, it's one of my favorite chores too, but I'll let him have this one.

5.  That's it for now.  We've been cloth diapering for 10+ months now and figure we have made our money back.  Every time we put a diaper on her now it's like putting money in the bank.  And I say this as someone who has a huge stash (I think we could go 6 days without washing if we wanted to, not that I recommend it.  Just sayin.)  And we have expensive diapers, too.  And we're not hauling boatloads of trash to the curb.  And MJ isn't sitting in chemicals all day, every day.  To anyone thinking of taking the plunge, do it.  Give into peer pressure.

The return of MJ

So nice to have you back.

We have all survived.

It was one of those weekends, preceded by one of those weeks, which was also preceded by one of those weekends.  It was a relentless string of difficult moments, and we have all come through it unscathed. 

Last weekend DH worked, leaving me to solo childcare.  He recently finished his residency, meaning he recently entered the realm of people with more normal, less hellish work hours.  Meaning I have recently discovered how much easier it is to have a child when you have the help of a spouse.  I'm certain being a single mother is more difficult than this past year has been for us, but much of the time I've come close.  The combination of having a spouse who works all the time and having no family nearby makes for exhausting weeks.

Since June, DH has had a more normal schedule.  And I have been soaking in the luxury of a 2-parent household.  Last weekend was a brief return to having him gone all the time, and a reminder of how much easier our life has become. 

On Monday, after DH had been up for 15 hours, MJ had a fever, forcing us to keep her home.  Since last week was my last week of teaching, and I had gotten nothing done all weekend, he had to stay with her.  This was followed by the week of sick.  MJ was in and out of daycare, after we thought she was better and it turns out she was not.  Tuesday evening took me to the ER, for fear of appendicitis that turned out to be an unfortunate combination of unrelated symptoms.  I didn't get admitted, but I did get Dilaudid.  Can't say I understand the appeal. 

Thursday brought a 104 degree fever to MJ and a concerned visit to the pediatrician.  She had an ear infection.  We started her on antibiotics.  We joined our neighbors at their cabin, somewhat regretting the decision when MJ spent two-thirds of the weekend screaming and I continued to recover from the stomach pains that landed me in the ER in the first place.

But on Saturday night, the calm returned.  Or the beginning of the calm.  Not really calm, exactly, since that hasn't existed in 10+ months.  But joy.  I finally felt better.  Yesterday, MJ returned.  We remembered what it's like to have a happy kid.  We really did have a glorious weekend, if you discount the screaming.  We feel so lucky to have met such fun people, who live so close, whose children are so close in age to MJ.  Who will not be leaving in the near future to follow a string of post-docs, as so many of our friends are going to soon start doing. But the return of our joyous, happy, rambunctious child was really the best part.  And the fact that DH and I got through this hellish week with few arguments and even some fond memories. 

My daughter, the flirt

There is no greater feeling in the day than showing up at daycare and being met by the hugest smile MJ could possibly fit on her little face.  Even if she's in the middle of a woe-is-me fest, she will stop so that she can express pure joy at seeing me.  No matter how my day has been, that moment is all that matters.

A few weeks ago I walked into daycare and noticed that MJ was sitting in her high chair separate from the rest of the babies. She was not particularly bothered by it and was far more interested in her Cheerios.  (She is alwas far more interested in her Cheerios than anything else going on around her.  THANK GOD FOR CHEERIOS.)  But are you as curious as I was?  Why? WHY WAS SHE SEQUESTERED IN THE CORNER?

It turns out that she had been so preoccupied by smiling at baby boy S, that she could not be bothered to eat.  So they had to move her to where she could no longer see S so she would focus on eating.  Did I mention that she likes her Cheerios?  A lot?  That Vito could waltz by wearing firecrackers while singing Lady GaGa and MJ would not bother to look up from her Cheerios?  And what distracts her from her Cheerios?  A boy.  A boy. 

S is the only other baby in the room who is also mobile, so they love to play together.  But last week, one of the daycare staff informed me that she had to intervene when she caught them going in for an open mouth kiss.  Moms of babies, you know the kind of ::nom:: I'm talking about.  Less of a kiss and more of an open- mouthed-attempt-to-eat-your-face-all-the-way-off.  Still. 

And I saw it with my very own eyes this week.  MJ was standing, playing with a plastic fish, and S kept pulling on her ruffles and causing her to fall.  Eventually, MJ turned around and went in for the full-on face plant.  The scary part, though, is that she looked like she knew what she was doing.  It looked intentional.  My little girl is already smooching on the boys.

Here she is, practicing kissing the mirror and pretending it's S.

We have a walker.

10 months and 4 days.  Only ~3 steps, but she repeated it 3 times.  I've been told after those first initial steps they become a "walker" very quickly.  And I'm also told that everything forever after changes.  I must confess, I'm skeptical.  She can already pull herself up on everything and has been for months now.  She already gets into everything she can possibly reach.  As far as I can tell, the only thing that will change is that she'll move faster (a negative, mind you) and that I don't have to carry her all the time in public.  Because a baby crawling around on the floor of a restaurant is inappropriate, but a baby running around is simply annoying.

I've been negligent, apologies.  I guess you could say I've had writer's block.  Or, alternately, you could just say I've been happy.  I tend to use this blog for two things: to commemorate MJ's life, and as a place to vent.  I haven't felt much need to vent of late, and MJ keeps me too busy to spend much time reflecting.  As in, really, really busy.  It is vindicating when even her daycare talks about what an extremely high energy child she is.  She's great at entertaining herself, if I let her entertain herself the way she wants.  But once she sets her sights on something, all hell breaks loose.  Like, say, her love of baths.  Meaning if she gets a peak at the bathtub she puts all her energy into climbing into it, eating the soap and grabbing for my razor.  And screams bloody murder if I interfere with her.  I've been told that parenting at this age is mostly about distraction, but she is not easily distracted.  Headstrong, as my mother in law put it.  Very, very headstrong. 

It helps that she's such a loud child.  I can be in another room and hear exactly where she is and what she's doing.  And my saving grace (on rare occasions) is the happy squeal she lets out when she sees something that is not supposed to be available to her is.  Like, if the door to the downstairs is open, or the lid is off the dog bowl.  The gleeful squeal is unmistakable, and I then know to run to wherever she is.

When you go on vacation...

... for the first time without your little one, and your mother-in-law sends you this picture, your heart just melts.