Maggie, as of yesterday, is now 20 months old. This is notable in that she is now more than halfway to being a two-year old, which I am pretending is not true, and in that she is now the age that Max was when she was born. Looking at Maggie as she currently exists, I cannot imagine having a newborn and a twenty-month old and surviving the experience, but we did, because here we all are, more or less intact. To celebrate Maggie's month-hood, we got her some hair ties and gave her her first ever hairdo. (One of my never-to-be-violated rules of parenthood is that no one gets any kind of hair accessory until they have the hair to necessitate it, and it is one of the few that I have stood by. Everyone has to draw some kind of line in some kind of sand sometime.) It made her look like such a big girl that I got a little mushy and nostalgic, and started to think that maybe, someday, sort of soonish, another baby wouldn't be too... and then, today, Maggie has been so freaking crabby and clingy and cantankerous and she screamed and threw things and snotted all the way through a brief but purgatorial grocery store trip, and now I am of the mind that there is enough going on for the time being. In fact, I have gone the opposite direction, and instead of adding to our current family unit, I am considering farming the already existing offspring out to whatever circus is lucky enough to pass through our neck of the woods first. Okay, not really. We all know I'm a sucker for beponytailed little mamas who rub snot on me and throw their baby dolls at me while screaming in my ear in public. The circus should be sad, though, because Maggie is very strong and very charming and sort of bizarrely flexible, and I think her talents would be useful in a number of acrobatic/elephant wrangling/carny-style rube-fooling ways.
Friday, January 23, 2009
She Looks Like A Who From Whoville, But She Has The Heart Of A Lion. An Angry Lion.
Maggie, as of yesterday, is now 20 months old. This is notable in that she is now more than halfway to being a two-year old, which I am pretending is not true, and in that she is now the age that Max was when she was born. Looking at Maggie as she currently exists, I cannot imagine having a newborn and a twenty-month old and surviving the experience, but we did, because here we all are, more or less intact. To celebrate Maggie's month-hood, we got her some hair ties and gave her her first ever hairdo. (One of my never-to-be-violated rules of parenthood is that no one gets any kind of hair accessory until they have the hair to necessitate it, and it is one of the few that I have stood by. Everyone has to draw some kind of line in some kind of sand sometime.) It made her look like such a big girl that I got a little mushy and nostalgic, and started to think that maybe, someday, sort of soonish, another baby wouldn't be too... and then, today, Maggie has been so freaking crabby and clingy and cantankerous and she screamed and threw things and snotted all the way through a brief but purgatorial grocery store trip, and now I am of the mind that there is enough going on for the time being. In fact, I have gone the opposite direction, and instead of adding to our current family unit, I am considering farming the already existing offspring out to whatever circus is lucky enough to pass through our neck of the woods first. Okay, not really. We all know I'm a sucker for beponytailed little mamas who rub snot on me and throw their baby dolls at me while screaming in my ear in public. The circus should be sad, though, because Maggie is very strong and very charming and sort of bizarrely flexible, and I think her talents would be useful in a number of acrobatic/elephant wrangling/carny-style rube-fooling ways.
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1 comment:
that is exactly how dad used to style my hair. I called them my "worms". What is with the seemingly universal childhood obsession with worms??!
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