Rotating her wardrobe was a bittersweet moment indeed. I can't believe how much she's grown since I brought her home from the hospital. It's happening too quickly. Just four months ago, she weighed in at 8 lbs and was too small for even her newborn outfits. Here we are in May, she's twice that size, and my biceps are well-toned from toting the little chunker around. I'm sad to see her growing so quickly, but I'm also looking forward to the age where she can entertain herself. I am only one woman, folks. I can't be with her every second of the evening (though I'd like to be able to do that).
Every so often I forget just exactly why I get so angry at Sol's father. And then I attempt something like I did tonight - a pretty large project that requires my full attention and both hands.
Sol was fine during some of the chaos (see Where's Waldo-esque photo to the right... can you spot the baby??), but she soon became restless and just wanted me. So I had to grab the Moby and wrap us up - and then attempt all my sorting/laundry/folding/haulingupanddownstairs with my babe strapped to the front of me. Not easy. Would it have been easier with another adult there to entertain her while I worked? Probably. Guess I'll never know. Regardless, the many reasons why I resent her father just came screaming back to me. Being a new mom is hard. No one should have to do it alone. Thanks a heap for your stupid choices, jerk.
And that's my rant for the day. End scene.