But where, I ask you, is the time going?
Christmas is going to be upon us in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, as they say.
Which is ok, because I love Christmas, but I also really love fall, and it is flying by at record speed, and Christmas means my baby will be one. ONE! Is that even still a baby?
Oh, muffin. As long as he falls asleep on me, he’s a baby, I say.
So. I have my favourite honeycrisp apples stocked, and I made my favourite pumpkin recipe (this has been made every Thanksgiving since I posted it, it’s just that good that I don’t even try anything new anymore.)
But really, aside from that, I haven’t gotten much of anything else done.
Jack has been finding his voice, learning to laugh, starting to eat everything we’re eating, and learning to open cupboards and drawers. He’s also in a stage when he wants to be held a LOT, and when he isn’t being held he’s a general pain in the you-know-what.
Babies have a sixth sense for things like open toilet lids, gas fireplaces, and open dishwashers with reachable serrated knives. Combined with his discovery of the joys of unrolling toilet paper, emptying sock baskets, opening kitchen drawers and tossing plastic containers, my time is consumed with maintaining a semi-walkable path free of small objects through the primary areas of the home.
Keeping someone alive is kind of my full-time job right now, with a side of also-teach-him-what-a-nap-schedule-looks-like.
This is usually the point in parenting when I hold up the child and say to Carl, “You got this from here, right?”
Five children later, I still don’t think he is taking me seriously.
Thankfully Gemma can always be counted on for some baby time when I really need both hands and a knowledge of where he is. Some days I seriously consider calling her in sick to school just so we can enjoy her company :)
And it’s a good thing this one, like the rest, is so stinkin’ cute, in his own pale, bald, soft and squishable way.
Babies, guys. They getcha.