When I posted about the "
Terrible Eights," I may have forgotten to mention a few key issues I have with my now-eight-month-old.
Issue 1: I like my sleep. Apparently, Stretchy does not like me to sleep. This is apparent in the fact that she wakes up more now than when she was a tiny infant. Like every 3 hours. Or less. Last night, SEVEN times... SEVEN. Let me just write it one more time for emphasis: SEVEN. Which, according to my awesome new toy, the
fitbit, means out of the 8 hours and 15 minutes I was "in bed" I only slept for FIVE. AWESOME.
Issue 2: I like to eat breakfast. Apparently, Stretchy does not like me to be full and would prefer I was starving all day. In the past, I was able to make my breakfast and eat it while Stretchy ate hers. Now, since she refuses to eat breakfast, I must either eat my breakfast (tasty warm oat bran) while playing on the floor (resulting in oat bran covered carpet and/or toys) or let it get cold and gross on the table and throw it away when it becomes inedible. Thus, I am now looking for new breakfast options... I am also hungry.
Issue 3: I like to walk in a comfortable and upright position. Apparently, Stretchy prefers that I walk with an extra 18 or so pounds on one hip so that my spine looks like a fish hook and I'm practically hobbling after a quarter mile. Obviously neither stroller we have is comfortable or exciting enough for her.
Here is evidence. Yesterday I planned on taking a nice relaxing walk by the golf course at the Saratoga State Park. Stretchy started out happy enough in her stroller.
We even saw a bunny.
This is us in the same spot on the way back.
What's different? Aside from Stretchy being out of the stroller, I look
unhappy tired like I love my baby so much that when she screamed her head off as if her arms were being torn from her body, I carried her an entire mile rather than let her suffer in the torturous stroller.
Issue 4: I prefer people did not think I abuse my child or endager her in any way. Stretchy, on the other hand, seems to want people miles away to think that I am either lighting her on fire, or letting her be mauled by wild animals.
Evidence: In the parking lot after we returned from the previously described walk, I placed my seemingly comforted baby in the safe confines of her carseat so that I could pack up our belongings and take her home. No sooner had I put her down than she began screaming so loudly and inconsolably that I immediately picked her up for fear that someone in the vicinity would hear her and call 9-1-1 or rush to her aid and call CPS because surely a child can only cry like that if she is being severely injured or mistreated.
My only other option seemed to be to set her in the grass while I put the stroller away.
This was a miracle decision on my part because A) she stopped crying, B) she seemed happier than she had in the past few days, and C) we had an activity to entertain her for a good 30 minutes.
I also got some really cute pictures...