So I’m just going to say it: Boopsie is nine months old today and I got teary eyed (more than once). I was looking back at photos from right after she was born. I’d been worried she’d come out too big to fit into her “Small Paul” Paul Frank onesie that we planned to bring her home in. It turned out to be huge, as did the teeny-tiny infant socks from Baby Gap. Now she’s rocking 28 inches and almost 16 pounds.
Where did the last nine months go? How can I love one squirmy, smiling, pooping, dictator so stinking much? Sometimes loving her feels almost like heartbreak – painful and dangerous – but it’s delicious and exhilarating. Now that we have the video monitor I love to watch Boopsie go to sleep, not because I’m overprotective, but because it’s so sweet. She plays with her pacifier and then snuggles up with “Boy” (her tiny boy baby doll) before she passes out sprawled, legs spread and arms flung out to the sides. Can you see why I kept getting misty?
Tonight I made Boopsie eat spinach, broccoli, whole wheat bread and organic chicken to try and counteract yesterday’s pancakes. As soon as she finished, she started trying to grab Cheetos Puffs out of Daddy-o’s hand. Yes, Daddy-o and I are our own worst enemies.