I had a dinner/movie date with my husband… sans Olivia. Much as I love my chubby, little cherub, I must admit it was sooo nice to not have her along. (Teensiest bit of guilt saying that). It was lovely to sit in a restaurant and talk to Ian without feeding/playing/consoling/cajoling the little girl. We actually had time to discuss things that don’t revolve around teething or baby poo. I felt positively cosmopolitan. I even dressed up, did my hair (sorta), and wore makeup (again, sorta). I wore heels. It was divine.
Anyhoo, I’m 29. Last year in my twenties. Still feel about 17, only slightly more responsible (baby) but even less organized (again, baby).
Since I know most of the people who check this blog love me but retain Olivia and her doings as their priority, here is an update:
1) She’s getting cuter by the minute. Honestly, you’d think it would slow down.
2) You can see her two front teeth on the top, but they haven’t yet broken the skin. Poor thing.
3) With the teething, she’s a bit more fussy and wakes up at least twice each night.
4) She regularly pulls herself up to standing and is walking around the couch and ottoman. That’s right, folks. Walking.
5) Whole lot of chatter going on. Still mostly “Ba, ba” and “Da, da”. Still no real connection to objects or people. Yet.
6) Her belly is starting to be ticklish. Great fun for me, not sure she’s really enjoying it. The laughter produced has a hysterical twinge, like her internal monologue is saying “It’s fun, but I’ll be darned if I know why.”