Category Archives: ZGirl


When XBoy was a newborn, we couldn’t wait to see what every week would bring as far as his developmental milestones go. I kept the book given to us by our pediatrician about what to expect each month next to the crib and would read about the month he was in and what to watch for, and of course the following month in anticipation. I followed the book’s suggestion down to the T. I documented when he rolled over; when he sat upright; when he crawled; when he first walked; his first words; etc., etc.

As for ZGirl? I opened the book a couple of times to remind myself of when I could introduce solids and what kinds, but we didn’t push it. We jumped over the rice mess and went straight to my broccoli chicken tortellini from Pizza Hut, which she loved, at six months. I don’t really recall when she started crawling. A couple of months ago? Five months ago?

I can tell you she started walking, if you call 3 or 4 steps before she collapses into my outstretched arms, walking, a week or so ago. She doesn’t say mama or dada, but the other day while at daycare she pointed to the wall of paper stars and said, “tars”. I have on my phone a video from my husband of where she repeated “uh-oh” with perfect enunciation. That was a month ago and she no longer says it. She looks for XBoy when we say his name. She crawls at break-neck speed to the bathroom when we say it’s time for her bath. She points to interesting, and sometimes not so interesting, objects.

As far as I know, she’s an average baby with average milestones. I do wonder about the talking, but I think I worry since XBoy was an early talker. He was (and still is of course) a very clever toddler. I even have a video of him at about 18 months counting to 20.

I guess it comes down to that while I eagerly anticipated every new development in XBoy, including the thrill of packing away outgrown clothes, I struggle immensely with ZGirl’s changes. I have a digital picture frame in our bedroom that hasn’t been updated since January. All the pictures are of her during the first five months, and as I watch the images of a newborn I barely recognize slide and morph on the screen, I can feel myself sinking into such a funk that I blink back tears.

The first two months after she entered our world were hellish. It seemed as if we never slept, but obviously we did. I would crawl into bed in the middle of the night dreading the fact that in two more hours I would have to be up again to nurse her. On more than one occasion, I remember collapsing into my pillow in tears and saying to Mr. DD, “What have we done? What were we thinking??” and before he could even attempt to sooth me, I had passed out in exhaustion.

That memory is burned indelibly into my heart since of course, we had moved heaven and earth to have her here and at my darkest I had almost wished it not to be so.

It’s now that she sleeps easily from 9 – 7 that it makes that time feel like an eternity and a half ago. Was it really THAT bad? Looking back, no, and if I could – if WE could – I would do it again.

Each day little bits of babyish floats away into the ether. She is rounding the first turn into toddlerhood in her personality, which is both feisty and fearless. She is developing a crush on a couple of stuffed animals. She hides under the blanket awaiting a game of peek-a-boo. She screams in furious indignation when we try to pluck out whatever foreign object she has secreted away into her mouth, and when she’s tired, she seeks us out, lifts her impossibly small arms up to us in a silent plea to be picked up and held, and when we do, she curls up into our arms – only briefly – before pushing back away with those arms to look into our face and smile as if to say, “I soooo have you wrapped around my finger…SUCKAH!”

And she does. She has us ALL wrapped around her finger. It’s ridiculous to imagine the three of us are at her beck and call, but we are. XBoy will even stop playing a video game to attend to her blatant calls of attention.

The relationship those two have is…oh god…it’s so hard to put into words. It’s reciprocal admiration at its finest. He will read books to her even though he HATES to read. She screams in excitement when he enters the room. The other day, she nearly pushed herself out of my arms while in the pool, just to reach out to him. I originally had feared that their age difference would equate INdifference, but I couldn’t be more surprised or elated by how well they have bonded.

I wish you all could meet ZGirl. To meet XBoy. To see how years of bitter disappointments and failures have accumulated into such a sweet, sweet outcome. One that I’m proud of in that we persevered when it seemed we could never clear the hurdles of multiple miscarriages, male factor, poor ovaries, money, time, time, time…

Time. It’s hurtling us all too quickly into the future. It seems recently I’ve been sitting on that rocket of time and while my arms are wrapped firmly and lovingly around both my children, I sometimes stop sniffing the sunshine in their hair to turn and look with melancholy on what is behind me. When I turn to face what’s in front of me again, ZGirl and XBoy are just a little bit bigger and not holding on quite as tightly to my arms.


I did a ladybug theme for ZGirl’s birthday. By “theme”, I mean that the plates had ladybugs on them; her invitations were ladybugs and the cake was a ladybug. After that, I got lazy and just bought red accouterments.

I tried to get a ladybug cake pan, but they were sold out. Instead I saw a cake pan for sports balls (I feel as if I need to qualify that statement with the “sports” adjective as I’m going to be referring to my baby girl’s cake here), and decided that it would work better. Each half circle could be a small ladybug. The perfect size for a one year old to mash up.

2009 006Here’s the counter space I was working on. I don’t get how any one can bake neatly.

I was a little disappointed in that the instructions claim I should only need one cake mix to fill both halves. Not quite enough. If I had to have a perfect (sports) ball, I would need to mix up two. Again, no biggie since I wasn’t depending on feeding a bunch of people with the cake.

2009 004I outlined how I wanted the icing to be applied and then mixed my colors and started with the black filling in the face and the line down the middle. Then I came in with the red. I decided at the last minute not to make the dots on the ladybug out of icing and instead went with the mini oreo cookies.

2009 007The eyes were made with mini oreos, as well. I just scrapped oreo icing and piled them up on one cookie to make them bulge a bit, then smeared a bit of butter cream icing on them and dabbed that into blue sprinkles for the irises.

2009 008ZGirl seemed to enjoy it. Briefly. What you won’t be able to see is that after she demolished it, she suddenly banished it to the floor with a few well-aimed swipes of her hand. I swear she was bitch-slapping it.

2009 014That’s my girl.2009 049


timeToday is the last day I will ever be pregnant.

Today is the last day I will feel the kicks and turns of a baby from the inside.

Today is the last day I will be the mom to one child.

Today is the last day I will wish to be over soon before I start hoping the tomorrows never come.

Today was a year ago.

The tomorrows still come.

Each one faster than yesterday.


I’ve been pretty irritated with my husband lately. Actually just on the weekends. He’s been racing* every weekend for the past 4, which goes against what I thought we had agreed to when racing*season started: he’s races* one weekend; I get to do what I want the next weekend. Easy, right?

When I whined to him about it, he told me I “need to get a hobby.” So tonight when I sat down at my laptop, he asked what I was doing. My “hobby”, Mr. Observant.

* as in radio-control electric car racing


I have been dealing with a nightmare on a simple $15.00 ebay purchase. I found the seller (who won’t respond to my emails or send me my mofo purchase) on another site via google, because some people are stupid and use the same username all over the web. If it wasn’t for the fact I used my husband’s ebay account, I would be all over that bitch like a fly on shit. My husband says that’s harassment. I say it’s internet justice.


Speaking of crappy service, wait until I tell you about my foray into warranty work on my vehicle. It’s a comedy of errors compounded by two survey phone calls. The last survey caller even had the gall to make up excuses as to why the dealership screwed up not once, not twice, but three goddamn times. I just don’t have the energy to talk about it now.


More service problems: I took a two hour drive down to The Metro to see a specialist for ZGirl. Long, long, LOOOOONNNGG story short? She’s fine.


What people who don’t have children with ADHD don’t understand is that a child who suffers from ADHD isn’t just one who is “overly active”. XBoy’s ADHD is not manifested in physical over-activity. It is him being constantly on mental overload. Like having a power plug with every outlet being used plugged into ANOTHER power strip. That’s XBoy’s brain.

For a “normal” child, you can tell them, “It’s bedtime. Please get ready for bed.” and off they go. Fifteen minutes later, you can walk into their room and they’ve changed, completed their nightly toiletry, and might even be in bed.

It doesn’t work that way with XBoy. If I tell him to take a bathroom break, sometimes he’ll get up from the living room couch walk into the hallway and then turn to his bedroom. From the time he heard the request to the time he’s walked to the hallway, he’s forgotten what he’s supposed to do, maybe due to a distraction of a toy laying on his bedroom floor.

To get him ready for bed, it’s simple commands that have to be repeated a couple of times before the task gets completed. The nightly conversation goes a lot like this:

Go take a bathroom break, please (follow him into the bathroom, and lean against door jam).

Lift the ring, please.

Flush, please.

Put the ring down, please.

Wash your hands, please – use soap.

Shut off the water, please.

Dry your hands, please.

Brush your teeth, please.

Put away your brush, please.

Shut off the lights, please.

Go get dressed for bed, please (follow him into the bedroom).

Put your clothes in the hamper, please.

Get into bed, please.

Each command must come separately or else after the first one, you may find him 15 minutes later playing in the bathroom sink with a hairbrush and q-tip and water pooling up not only on the counter but the floor as well.

We are tired of it. He’s certainly tired of it. Unfortunately, we can’t leave him to his own devices. There are times, more often than not, that in the morning, we can tell him to get dressed for the day and we’ll walk into his room ten minutes later and find him standing there buck-naked and playing with his Star Wars action figures. If we ask, “What are you doing?!” he’ll respond, “I’m just playing!” as in “duh! what does it look like I’m doing??”

So yeah. If a friend tells you that their child has ADHD, don’t just think it’s a kid acting like a rabid weasel on meth.

If only it were that easy.


Feel free to pick a topic, any topic, and advice away. Sorry about the schizo title.


I think a lot about how far Mr. DD, XBoy and myself have come over the years. I am so focused on ZGirl, the here and now, that thinking of the past makes me wonder, did I really think or say that? All I have to do is go to my archives for proof.

Here’s a post from 2006 when I took some time off from work to purge our storage of all baby items that we had held onto with the assumption we would have another baby. It’s important that you go read it and the comments with it.

05.20 clown

I did save those dinosaur pajamas. I couldn’t bear to part with them. My daughter is wearing them this very second, asleep in her crib. That’s her in an earlier picture on the left. A picture of XBoy is in the link.

I’m having a difficult time explaining how it makes me feel to see her in them. Yes, of course joy since it means that all those years we waited for it to be our turn once again, came; but I also feel a bit of heartache since I know that in just a couple of months she will have outgrown it as well and I’ll have to wash it and fold it for the last time. Sure I can save it for the ages it will take for me to maybe become someone’s grandmother, but will it survive another 20 years?

My meloncholy mood was significantly deepened when I read the comments.

Kath was still waiting to stay pregnant for the first time back then. Now? She’s had baby girl #2.

K&M’s blog is gone. She’s reinvented herself in a new pwp blog after the birth of her son.

Angela’s blog is gone, but she stops in occasionally and we cross paths on facebook.

Karen, after a couple months of silence has just started blogging again. I missed her terribly.

Leggy is now Clover, but she’ll always be Leggy to me. She’s had boy/girl twins since then.

Baggage has noticeably been absent here, but I also see her updates on facebook.

Kellie stops in still, and I am grateful for her continued presence.

Donielle…she had a blog, but it is also long gone. I haven’t heard from her in ages.

Julie. I feel my heart constrict a bit when I think of Julie (Sisyphus) because I miss her soooo much.

Erin has been a constant friend, but quieter now that she brought home her son from Ethiopia.

KarenPince also had a blog, which is gone now. She recently had a baby boy.

Trish. Former Nebraskan. She has a daughter who is terminally ill, but I don’t see updates from her anymore.

Cricket, who I never thought would become silent, has. She has an art blog and saw a recent update, but I haven’t heard from her since January.

Tuesday is still blogging. After her miscarriage of triplets, she had another baby boy.

Jess…I wish I could remember more about her other than she stopped blogging ages ago as well.

Josie and I non-stopped emailed each other for a while there. I even met her once, and it’s already been a couple of years ago. She finally brought home her son from Ethiopia as well just a short time ago.

Michelle is thankfully still out there. Her surprise pregnancy mirrored my own (non-surprise) with ZGirl.

Midori has gone through hell these past few years. No longer keeping a public blog but I do get to see pictures of her new life on Flickr and see updates on facebook.

Long time sista. My former best friend.

Kati stopped blogging some time ago after suffering several miscarriages during her SIF. I miss her sweet ways.

Rachel went through her pregnancy during her husband’s deployment, but she hasn’t posted in a year.

Menita, darling Menita. We also cross paths occasionally on facebook and I get a silly little zing when I see she’s checking in on me.

Catizhere. That’s all I need to say about lovely Cat. She is still here. Thank god.

Spanglish and I had a falling out, except I don’t know why.

Alli also stopped blogging about a year ago.

Jenny is now the infamous Bloggess and has left me in the dust.

Kellie from One Mother’s Journey deleted her blog years ago. I see someone else took the domain name.

Her Bad Mother also moved onward and upward.

Soralis is still blogging, but at a new site under a new name after she had her baby girl.

TB took a very long hiatus after the birth of her son over a year ago. She has posted since then, but not often enough IMO.

Nico went on to also give birth to a second son and a different blog.

Every one, not just my daughter, is growing, evolving. However, the difference between my daughter and these blogs and their owners is that she is growing up – eventually to grow away; these long lost bloggers…? Is the rate for extinct bloggers really that high, or do I need to only look in the mirror to find the answer?


05.20 clown (7)_edited-1Yeah, yeah. She looks cute (or like a mini clown, which is kinda creepy in a way), yada yada yada, but the reason I’m posting this picture is BEHOLD!! It has a copyright on it!!

I did it allllllll by myself.

Yep. 10 months after my husband got me photoshop for Christmas, I actually figured one option out. I have to give props to the 1 credit course I’m taking at the local college (I won’t even go into how I want to reach across the work station and punch the kid in the neck who’s a totally obnoxious, non-stop talking, loudmouth dolt who is there only to get himself out of financial probation by taking a “pud” course).

Alright. That’s all I wanted to show you. Move along now.


I remember at different times reading or hearing this question from parents:

How do I keep my baby still when changing their diaper?

And I always thought, wow, you’re an idiot because you’re an ADULT and the squirmy individual in question is a BABY. Good lord. You outweigh them by a good 100 lbs at least.

Remember, I’m Judgey McJudgemental, or something.

ZGirl loves being on the changing table. When she was a newborn, she could be hungry or tired or whatever crankification overcomes newborn, but once we put her on the changing table she always calms down.

But…and you knew there had to be one – or should I say – Butt…

That girl will have quite a career in wrestling if she can keep up her current physical abilities or at least, be able to wipe the floor up with XBoy when the sibling rivalry takes on a physical manifestation.

I can have her laying (lying??) on the floor in front of me for either a dressing, an undressing or a diaper change, whatever, and have a firm hold of one leg and the little snit can twist herself over to her front like she’s preparing for a wheelbarrow race before I can even position a diaper under her little behind.

I now have to snug up my legs on either side of her body so she can’t roll over. Obviously this is when the latent banshee comes out. I’ve even had to go so far as putting her down in front of me so I could position one leg over her chest while I work on the other end.

Post-bath is the worst time. Pajamas? Bitch, please! Diapers? They’re for babies pussies!! It’s Happy Naked Time and I’m not going to let you take away the “naked” and if I have to, I’ll give you UN-happy. So by the time I’ve been able to wrangle one teeny tiny Tasmanian devil into a diaper, especially if I’ve failed to amuse her for the one eternal minute with something shiny (my necklace even though she broke it) or crinkly (plastic bags are dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, but holy hell, they can offer 30 seconds of quiet zoning) or her favorite distraction – a wipe that she will tear up into little pieces and eat – I feel as if I should throw up my arms and look at the timer while I get my horse.

What? You have no idea what I’m talking about? Then you need to watch this short little google video that demonstrates what Baby Wrangling is like. You can skip the first 40 seconds and just watch the last 20, if you’re in a hurry.

And while my daughter makes a complete fool out of me and my inability to keep her still for just a few minutes, I will still mock you if ask how to keep your baby still during diaper changes. Because I’m a bitch, that’s why.


Everyone just needs to stop emailing me and begging for my next post. Here’s a list of those of you who were wondering if I was OK and inquiring as to my writing schedule:

  • ______


OK, so three days doesn’t seem like an inordinate amount of time to some of you, but for me? I’m wondering if my keyboard has been laced with crank. No, not the crank I emote. The crank you snort, silly.

ZGirl is going to be 10 months old this week. She’s already been showing some early signs of toddlerhood (the pitching a shitfit kind) and I am so not ready to give up my BABEEEEE!

XBoy came home from school a couple Mondays ago and said, “We missed the school’s Spring Concert yesterday.” (insert pouty face and sad eyes). “Oh, no!” we replied. How could this have happened?? There was no note from the teacher. Nothing on the school’s website or the calendar. I emailed his teacher about it. She replied:

I did send home notes with the students on white paper, however while we were making stars to use as decoration for the concert XBoy told me that he wasn’t going to be able to come so when he wasn’t there, I didn’t think twice about it.

BUSTED. And like how.

He confessed that he didn’t want to go so I did what any mom would do in that situation. I made him feel like shit by saying that he only gets one Spring Concert a year and this was the only one he’d have as a 1st Grader and mom and dad and grandma are very sad that we didn’t get to see him sing with his class or see his artwork hanging (combo Spring Concert and Art Show). He was appropriately shamed.

The rabbit still lives.

Now that I’ve typed that I wonder how many of my readers will think I’m pregnant when someday I post, “The rabbit died.”

My friend’s ovaries have been bitch-slapped out of their coma and produced 3 follicles after her 3rd round of increasing dosage of clomid. The first two rounds were bust. I’m really, REALLY hoping for her.

I have had a post about secondary infertility in my drafts for a couple weeks now. I don’t know if it will ever come out of there as I’m struggling with my desire to work out some aggravation as opposed to my ever present sensitivity to my faithful readers. Yes, that was sarcasm. Gold star for you.

I am NOT writing a book. You can relax now.

This is an awesome response to a babysitter who was in serious need of a Nunya Smack.

I hate Period Poops, don’t you?


I’m pretty self-conscious about sharing updates on ZGirl’s development simply because I don’t want to hurt the feelings of those who find those kinds of posts upsetting. Like I did before I got pregnant with her. Actually, I still would at 8 months pregnant even though I could almost convince myself that I might – just might – have a baby.

However, with time slipping by so quickly and updating her non-existent baby book has been impossible because, duh, I don’t have a baby book. I remind myself that this blog will someday be the embarrassment of my children when I hand them each a paper copy for their graduation.

ZGirl is quickly approaching 10 months old. At her 9 month check-up she was taller than 9 out of 10 babies her age and heavier than 3 out of 10. All her chocolate, wavy, baby hair is gone. It’s been replaced by sandy-blonde hair, straight and fine, much like my own. Poor girl. Her eyes are still the loveliest blue-gray. XBoy inherited my eye color and his dad’s long, dark lashes. ZGirl’s lashes almost disappear in the light as they are as fair as her hair.

Only a couple weeks ago she was desperately trying to master crawling. Now she cruises easily and confidently along all vertical surfaces including the walls. She’s become so aware of her balance that she knows she can lean into something with her body so she can grab at whatever’s within reach. Boxes of Kleenex are her crack, pulling them out one-by-one only to drop them on the floor. She also enjoys eating said Kleenexes, paper, and her butt-wipes (homemade from paper towels).

Speaking of eating, cheerios are still her snack of choice. We are constantly stepping on errant pieces of cereal and have nicknamed the ones that hit the floor O-Bomb-A’s (Obamas – get it?). Those pricey “puffs”? She takes them in but a moment later they are being ejected much like a bad CD in a drive. Five cans of puffs were delivered free of charge to the daycare for other babies to enjoy, and I created more space in my pantry. I’m pretty sure XBoy was sporting a nice set of teeth by 10 months whereas ZGirl is just now getting her third. The daycare feeds her a “regular” lunch as she prefers table food over that sissy baby food.

She’s still very much a Mama’s Girl. If grandma is spending the day with her, I have to make sure to leave the house before she wakes. If I don’t, she pretty much cries throughout the morning until after her first nap when of course, the day starts over for babies. When I pick her up from daycare, if she’s playing with something, I just need to say her name and she will look up, beam, and crawl quickly to me. After I pick her up, she seems to hug me by burrowing her face into my shoulder, and then she’ll look into my face, grin madly, and burrow back in. The simple action makes the whole world and its problems completely fade away.

ZGirl loves the feeling of wind on her face and will bounce in my arms and kick her legs in excitement when I carry her around outside. I can’t wait for it to get hot so the three of us can go to the pool and play in the water, which she also enjoys.

Her personality is wonderfully tolerant (with the exception of the odd stranger or two). I can set her down in front of her stash of toys and walk away knowing that as long as her diaper is fresh, her tummy is full and a nap just moments behind her that she’ll play and explore contentedly by herself. If XBoy is putting together some legos, I will get the “MOM!” holler since she wants to play with whatever and wherever he is. Sadly, that part will get old quickly.

I’ve mentioned that she pats and slaps herself in the head when she’s tired. She still does that as she’s taking her bottle before nap or bedtime. Otherwise, when she’s having a bottle, she’ll reach up and play with my hair making me regret that I cut it off as it requires me to lean over quite a ways for her to reach anything. She also takes the time to explore my face with her little fingers. I shake off the finger up the nose so she’ll move on to something else. For example, she is fascinated by my eyelashes and strokes them gently, almost by instinct, back and forth when I close my eyes.

She seems to laugh more now, too. I wouldn’t necessarily call it giggling; more of chuckling to herself, soft and low, if one of us does something to amuse her. She smiles easily and broadly. She screeches in excitement and chatters in play. Her favorite noise is made when she clicks her tongue in her mouth, and it’s our cue that she’s awake in her crib when we hear it over the monitor.

Don’t get me wrong, the girl can be quite whiney and fussy at times as well. Any crying is almost always accompanied by real tears, but it’s because something hurts. It could be her head where she clonked it on the side of the cabinet or when mommy lifted her carelessly out of the high chair and caught her leg under the tray (yes, I felt this {-} big). When she’s not in the best of mood, she’ll crawl over to me, pull herself up by grasping carefully at the fabric of my jeans and smack my leg with an open hand. Whatever I may be doing, it’s forgotten when I look down and see her tiny face and those lovely eyes begging to be picked up.

She lifts her arms when we ask, “Up?” She claps when we say, “Yahoo!” She waves her little hands and arms in a “wax on” mini Karate Kid imitation when we say, “Bye Bye!”

Every day I impatiently watch the hours and minutes until I get to pick her up from the daycare. Every week is a countdown in days where I look forward to the weekend and spending the short time I get with both my children. I drink in the smells and sights and words as if the next day was my last because every day that passes is a day that I will never get back.


Someone actually had the audacity – no, the unmitigated GALL – to call me, ME, a whiner (good thing I really, really like her AND her truncated posts).

[Looking back on posts: gift bags, truncated posts, work, spousal stupidity, blog pandering…]

Hmmm, she’s right. Griping comes easy when I’ve got no one to bitch to for nine hours of the day except you out there. I’ve tried just doing quick email exchanges, but for some reason after the third reply, the recipient bores of me and doesn’t respond back. Wait. Was that a complaint?

Here’s what’s going on lately that is most decidedly Good.

My nephew’s wife is going to have a baby this summer. Their first. A girl. Her initials were going to be DRAG, but they decided to condense the two middle names into one so not it’s just DRG. Personally, I think DRAG would be awesome. They’ve had their own struggles to get this far, so it’s good to hear her talk about how the baby is playing hopscotch on her bladder.

My friend from work, the one who has been trying to have a baby now for four years? She finally has taken a leap of faith and went to her OB for assistance. She’s on her second cycle of clomid. The first on just 50mg was their first indication that her ovaries are lazy. If there is anyone I will wish success for on just clomid and timed sex, it will be her.

My dad is home from the nursing home. He told the doctor, “Let me go home or I’ll run your ass over with a corn picker.” Not really, but he is home and technically, it’s possible as he’s nearly as blind as a bat and he could easily mistake a man walking in a field as a shock of corn – if a man, his doctor, was walking in a field that is.

XBoy had much improved marks for his third quarter at school. I credit the daytrana patch. While we resisted until the bitter end accepting he might be ADHD and need medication, it has been a godsend. He even lost five pounds, which moved him from “husky” territory back to “regular”.

Before this weekend’s snow storm, it looked as if all my trees survived another winter, including the sad-sack of a crabtree I planted last fall after it sat all summer in a pot in the drive way getting blown over and having most of its branches broke off. Creative pruning, I say.

The 20 loads of soil that had been sitting in our front yard for a year and a half, that made it look from the road that another basement had been dug next to our house, was FINALLY moved to the back yard where it belonged. Our Dirt Dude was suppose to move it last spring, but because of an abnormally wet season, he was unable to (the soil is actually clay; clay and big machinery fitted with tracks? Arch nemeses.). This means that maybe, just maybe, we might be able to plant a yard back there.

On the same line, we put in a sprinkler system in the front yard last fall. I can’t wait to use it! And mow! You know how I love to mow and this year I won’t be five, six or seven months pregnant. Woot!

Finally, ZGirl. My little, baby girl…at almost 9 months, she’s crawling. She claps. She raises both arms overhead when I say, “Yahoo!” She’s trying desperately to cruise. She is wearing 12 month sized clothes because she’s so long. Still not a big solids eater, but she’ll go through a box of cheerios if you let her. She makes my heart sigh contentedly.


See? Sometimes a kick in the butt to remind me that things aren’t too bad benefits you as well as myself. You got a whole ‘nother post out of me. And it’s not truncated!