But, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to stop her from growing up.
My little one is 4 months old {and one day, to be exact, because I know you were wondering}.
In addition to sleeping, pooping, and eating, she now rolls over.
Non-stop.
You can't get her to stay in one place.
And there is a chance she is teething, too.
Oh my heart might explode.
{Which I seriously can't afford right now, on top of the postpartum hair-loss that makes me feel like I need Rogaine and those last few babychubbs that I'm still working on slimming off}.
It has been a great 4 months, however.
The best of my life.
It makes me want another baby...
Later.
Way later.
Still.
I would totally make it sooner...
Um, but could I get a side order of sleeping-through-the night and no-breastfeeding-woes?
You wouldn't even have to give me mac&cheese-out-of-the-nose-at-2am {or any morning sickness, for that matter} and poopy-blowouts-on-my-new-jeans because, hey, I've already had those, and I'm willing to give them to someone else.
Just because I'm that nice.
Oh. And if you could also skip the my-fluctuating-hormones-make-me-seem-bipolar and holy-stretch-marks-on-my-hips, I would really appreciate it.
Oh, the agony!
Let's not talk about it for another year.
Yes?
All in all, though, I 110% thrilled to give all of my attention to this little one:
Tomorrow she has to brave more shots, but I have to be at work.
That means Tyrel has to daddy-up and hold her while she screams.
Poor Daddy.
I almost feel worse for him than for her because it just punches you in the gut.
To console her, however, she will get her first taste of baby cereal that night.
Today we stopped by my in-laws to get some potatoes.
{How do we not have any in our apartment is beyond me. We live in Idaho, for crying out loud. They practically fall out of the kitchen faucet around here.}
They were downstairs watching Lord of the Rings, right in the midst of the battle scene with Orlando Bloom fighting nasty, snot-covered goons and evil elephants.
Tyrel and I love some LOTR, so we casually joined them.
After watching some non-stop Orc action, Tyrel leaned over and whispered, seriously, gently, tenderly in my ear...
"You are so much better-looking than those guys."
Ladies and gentlemen, you can't beat that kind of love.
Happy Mother's Day to all of you lovely mommylous out there!
Especially to my mom.
Thanks for teaching me how to be a daughter, friend, sister, wife, and, most importantly, a mother myself.
Thanks for letting me draw embarrassing pictures on your computer desktop.
Thanks for telling me that you would love me, even if my arm grew out of my forehead.
Also, thanks for giving me some rocking genetics to produce one cute baby.
Aww sweet.
And since it is Sunday, here is something inspiring about motherhood.
I was hoping with every fiber of my being that I could just stay at home with the little Kembot, but it just didn't work out that way.
I have, however, survived my first week back.
I guess it is a good thing that I don't completely despise my job.
And I suppose it is good that Tyrel gets to spend a little more time with her, even though it is only one day extra per week.
My little girl always needs more daddy time.
I am slightly concerned, however, that he is creating a cute little monster.
Here she is, just chilling in our living room.
Watching the Travel Channel.
Like it is no big deal.
I can't keep her eyes off of that darn TV.
Ever.
She just rolls over or scoots around until she can see it.
Right now, as a matter of fact, she is wrapped up in the Celtics/Heat game.
And cooing.
Actually, she is pretty much cheering them on.
Tyrel.
What are you doing to our daughter?
Oh well. I guess this means I can enroll our boys in ballet.
