No excuses. I'm a bad blogger. I'll be better. It's been hard to write, being emotionally felled by current events: the terrifying outcome of the election, the outlandish spending on the inaugural, and the ongoing unfolding of "things I should have learned growing up", such as the horrible, racist treatment of turn-of-the-century boxer Jack Johnson, and practically every one else of color to this day.
But there are some positive things to note. I recently came this wonderful link via jodi at iwilldare. I've been working rather steadily (much more on this later). And then there's the gremlin. Ah, the gremlin, the little light of my life.
Mia is now 2 years old and having a ball. She is everything you would expect out of a two year old: squealy, squirmy, squishy and scrumptious. If I'm ever arrested, it would be for taking a huge bite out of her gorgeous and wonderful butt. But I am trying very hard to refrain.
Lately, Mia has been trying to sleep in her own big girl bed. Every night she tucks in and tries to sleep, but most nights, just as I start to slip away, she gets up and starts to cry. And back to the crib she goes. She nods off and I breathe a sigh of relief. But two nights ago, she actually fell asleep in her own bed.
Yep, she was sound asleep. I snuck out. And later, in my own bed, there was to be no sleeping for mommy. Because once they are out of the crib, they have full run of the house. Images of her tarzanning across her room via the drapes, falling on her head, somehow getting outside ... no, no thank you. No sleep. When she roused in the morning, I was in her room before she even realized where she was.
The next night (last night) she didn't fall asleep as easily in her bed. When I made a move to leave, she started to cry. "Back in the crib?" And big, big nods all around.
So last night, for at least one more night, mommy and baby slept. Soundly.
