Oh man.


Oh man.  Oh man.  Oh man.


Something has happened this past week that has blown me out of the water.  I never though I'd see the day…


That was an exaggeration.  I knew eventually it would come.  The day where I would have to put away my scrapbooking supplies.  The day when my bottles of vinegar and oil would no longer be safe on a low shelf.  The day when all that danged dog hair would be even more annoying than it was.  The day when the diaper pail would become a prime target for splashing fun.

The day when dog food would look like a mid-morning snack.  And dirty socks a new chew toy.

She.  Is.  Everywhere.


And while I am so sad that I now have to vacuum everyday in order to prevent crumbs, hair, and pieces of grass from becoming a munchie for her, I am so excited to see all these new changes!

It's like she's not even a baby anymore!


Go on, Georgia.  Just leave me.  Go out on your own.  Be independent.  Explore the world.  Don't worry about your poor lil Mother here who loves you…and carried you for nine months!…and is still nursing you, might I mention!  Sheesh.  So ungrateful. 

Is this what having a teenager is like?
Oh, it's way worse?  Great…

Crawling does come with one serious drawback – for her anyway.  The words “No touch.”

(Georgia tries to touch the flowers) – “Peanut, that's a no touch.”
(She tries again and I firmly squeeze her hand) – “No touch.”
(She tries again and I slap her hand) – “No touch!”
(She is then relocated to a safer environment.  Like a cage.)


I'm kidding.  About the cage part anyway.


“No touch” has been a helpful tool for us already.  She knows what it means, because when we say it, she'll give us the pouty face and sometimes whimper.  Super cute.  But super ineffective (for this Mommy, anyway).  When she pouts, I just go into a big long rant about how I know what is best for her, and although she may not realize it at the moment, I do know what I'm talking about and that one day she'll thank me for the safety and security of the restrictions I have placed on her.

But by the time I've finished this rant, she's already finished crying…and has dropped a toy in the toilet.


Perhaps I need to work on a shorter version.

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