Dear Annie,
You are now 16 months old. I am so exhausted from chasing you around that I can hardly come up with anything sweet or sentimental to say. What I can say is that I was warned, by just about everyone, about this stage. When they heard you were walking they'd say super-supportive things like "that's the worst" or "better lock down the house!". I would smile like an idiot and respond with how much I prefer walking over crawling and because you were so quick while crawling that walking really wasn't much different.
Well, you stopped walking. All together. You run. 100% of the time. Primarily while staring that the floor with your arms splayed out behind you. This little development really ups the level of danger in the house considerably. Everything (walls, tables-even though padded, chairs, humans that happen to be in your path) is a collision or impact hazard. I have been taking you outside a lot while we are home together because at least out there are things that catch your eye and cause you to stop once in a while, mid-sprint. Of course, the fact that we live at the top of a slight hill doesn't really help things, since that allows you to really get up a head of steam when you are out on your adventures.
Because it was rainy yesterday, we went to Target to get supplies for "activities" since we were going to be inside most of the day. I had seen an item on Pinterest that I thought you would enjoy. It involved putting paint inside a ziploc bag, taping the bag down, and then you "finger paint" but without the mess. I had it all set up for you after your nap.
For a moment, I was hopeful that this would be a sufficient time-filler. Incorrecto. It took approximately 7.3 seconds (just after this photo was snapped) for you to rip the bag of paint off the tray and start swinging it over your head. It was at this point that I realized I had essentially given you a paint filled water ballon. Excellent. Thank God you were more interested in the tape than the paint or we would have had a serious situation on our hands. Moving forward I will have to start evaluating the worst-case scenario options for all your crafts.
Later in the day, I wanted to try to make some muffins for our neighbor who broke/dislocated two fingers when she fell down the stairs carrying one of her NINE MONTH OLD TWIN GIRLS. She also has 4 and 7 year old boys and has been told she can't lift anything heavier than a magazine for 6 weeks. There's your daily dose of "it could always be worse" should you happen to need it. If anyone deserves some muffins, it's this gal. So back in the chair you went. I had seen another neighbor girl who is your age be occupied for an HOUR thanks to candy sprinkles. Because of the dollar bin at Target, I had sprinkles at the ready and again, was fully prepared for this to be highly successful. And, it would help work on your fine motor skills. Of course, that's just my justification for plopping you down with mini-bits of sugar in front of you.
Joke's on me! Guess who has no interest in sprinkles!?! You were temporarily occupied (90 seconds, maybe) with trying to get sprinkles back into the closed sprinkle container. Perhaps you have a future in magic? Given the simplicity of the recipe, I was able to at least get the first batch in the oven before you shouted "UP PEESH!" (repeat until demands met) and were freed from the chair.
You would sit still when you were allowed to sample the muffins, and unlike your Mom, actually seem to like pumpkin products.
So that's how you and I roll. I try to find fun things for you to do that other "crafty" moms go on about, and you just want to collect rocks and drop them down the holes in the sewer grate. You have your own little agenda and are so very busy (and fast) carrying it out. You very rarely stop moving. Your exhaustion is identified by what I fondly refer to as your "bad idea" period, where you are exceptionally clumsy, take extra risks (trying to balance on one foot while standing on the seat of your ridey toy), and think a headstand on concrete is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. And then you hit the wall. Hard. In this one scenario, I am not talking about an actual wall, though that might be part of it from time to time.
Everything I have discussed in this post is something I want to remember in thirty years, when you are a grown woman who worries about work and babies and bills and cleaning up. I want to remember that there was a time where you and I got to spend these days together doing whatever you wanted, and you are so very very sure what you want. And I hope that never changes, I just hope I get better at figuring it out.
I Love You, Sweet Girl,
Mom
