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That's why babies are cute...
Apr. 8th, 2006 09:08 amBecause if they weren't, it would be really hard to keep being patient with them. As it is, I'm barely containing my frustrations. Emma will be a year old at the end of the month. SHE DOES NOT NEED TO WAKE UP TO FEED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT ANYMORE. Yeah, I'm a little sleep deprived. She wakes up screaming at 1:00 and absolutely refuses to calm down unless I feed her. I know she doesn't need it at her age; Luke didn't when he was one. In fact, he pretty well weaned himself. I should have known I wouldn't get so lucky with every child. Emma is definitely going to fight being weaned. But I'm exhausted. I can't go that much longer if I want to maintain any semblance of sanity.
But on the other hand...she took her first step yesterday! Absolutely adorable, lunging forward and then immediately falling to her knees again, because after all, crawling's so much easier. You see I just can't stay angry at her. That's how she gets away with so much.
And Luke...simultaneously going through the usual stubbornness of a three-year-old and the frustrations of being autistic. So not only does he want his breakfast a very particular way, but he wants to do it himself and yet can't communicate any of the particulars because of his language delay. It's hard to keep my sympathy and compassion going when his ear-piercing shriek makes me want to tape his mouth shut. Yet...there he goes, singing "Row Row Row your Boat" without knowing any real words but getting the notes exactly right, and charming me so much I can't stay mad. Lucky for both of us. If only there were a language made up of musical notes; he could be fluent in it.
But on the other hand...she took her first step yesterday! Absolutely adorable, lunging forward and then immediately falling to her knees again, because after all, crawling's so much easier. You see I just can't stay angry at her. That's how she gets away with so much.
And Luke...simultaneously going through the usual stubbornness of a three-year-old and the frustrations of being autistic. So not only does he want his breakfast a very particular way, but he wants to do it himself and yet can't communicate any of the particulars because of his language delay. It's hard to keep my sympathy and compassion going when his ear-piercing shriek makes me want to tape his mouth shut. Yet...there he goes, singing "Row Row Row your Boat" without knowing any real words but getting the notes exactly right, and charming me so much I can't stay mad. Lucky for both of us. If only there were a language made up of musical notes; he could be fluent in it.
