How do you make a month, six months, a year smoke by so quickly your head spins and your brain sh*ts itself? Have a baby. Done. Last time I checked it was Christmas. Winter has now been kicked in the asshole and the cherry blossoms are lining the streets, gently beckoning spring to come and play.
The newest developments around the apartment are as follows:
I have perfected a gluten free apple muffin. Yeah, it's using a mix. You could judge or you could shut the f*ck up and eat a muffin.
We are completely up to date with Stella's baby book. Not to brag, but as it stands, we might win the Pulitzer Prize for it. To give you just one example to be astounded by, off the top of my head, I remembered every gift from every shower (all three of 'em). For a normal person who gets eight hours of sleep at night and doesn't have to sing-song every detail of their day, that's like reciting every number of Pi while eating a pie, building a house of cards and sponge bathing a rabid Irish wolfhound. Aka super tremendously f*cking impressive.
I have also finally started to exercise. Man, it sucks. Until the second you're done, and then you run to look in the mirror because that 15 minute run pushing the kid around the block must have dropped at least seven layers of cellulite off your ass, right? NAY. Nay at all. But it's a start. The first steps you take, the first downward dogs you stretch your hapless tired body into, you can start to envision what you will look like and feel like with some of the goo off of you. And I think it's going to be good.
But, despite all those amazing accomplishments, the best thing happening around these parts is someone finally likes solid foods. I know, I know, hold your applause. But, really, I have been yearning to make baby food forever and up until about a week ago, Stella felt like this about solid food.
Is that hilarious? Yes, yes it is. Because sweet potatoes were never meant to be this tragic. But then one day, just suddenly because, she started to gobble it down with verve and excitement. Literally flapping her arms and inhaling and exhaling while smacking her lips, begging for each bite like it was the greatest taste sensation in the entire world and not bland glops of rice cereal and warm water.
Man, having a kid is the ultimate, "Wait for it, waaaaaaaaaaait for it" exercise in patience and trust. No matter what you read or how much you hold your breath while scooping in the same bite over and over, it's all about somehow a little teeny tiny lever in their head gets switched from HATE THIS to LOVE THIS. It's magic. There is no other explanation.
So, now I'm merrily pureeing brightly coloured fruits and vegetables and my boobs are all, Oh, okay, suddenly we're not good enough? and running to their room and slamming the door while sobbing over-dramatically. Shhh, I tell them. Don't be sad. Eating solids = more sleep = more sleepovers at Grammas = INFINITY HIGH FIVES. When one door slams shut, another beautiful one opens.