Now that Mimi can walk, it’s all she wants to do. She toddles-toddles-toddles all day long, and at naptime and bedtime she’s so worn out that she falls right to sleep. We thought it was a good opportunity to get rid of her pre-sleepytime bottles, so we did. She has already stopped crying for them, less than a week later. Her chubby baby thighs are slimming down. She not only understands things we say (we’ve begun to censor what we say and watch in front of her, finally), she’s saying “yeah” “no” “okay” “uh oh” and “bleh” at meaningful times. The baby is well and truly gone.
And I don’t know quite what to make of it. At a distance, with uninterrupted sleep and a child who won’t “break” if I don’t do exactly the right thing, I’m sincerely missing the baby days. I’m flipping through baby pictures of her, lovingly looking at the bottles and toys and clothes as they get packed up and put away, pausing by the baby aisle at the store and realizing that there is nothing there for us. I’m feeling sad. I’m also aware that I’m feeling relieved… honestly I find it much easier to care for a toddler, who eats and goes to sleep and stays asleep on a schedule, who can assert herself a little, and who is almost, at times, a companion.
One thing I’m thoroughly sick of is the summer heat. Independence Day is over and all we’re left with is stinking heat and humidity that keeps us indoors and makes car trips miserable. Please, summer, be over. I want my sweats and socks and walkies again.