This one, as one of my sisters-in-law has recently said, will be responsible for every single grey hair on my head. I think my sister-in-law suggested that both babies will be responsible for every single grey hair on my head. But I disagree: it will be solely Gianna's doing.
This week, she has fallen approximately 492 times. One such time she passed out. And another time, she did that horrible huge-intake-of-air-and-not-making-a-sound before letting loose with a blood-curdling scream. She needs to wear a helmet, and maybe even those pads that football players wear under their uniforms.
When she wasn't climbing on things that she wasn't supposed to be climbing on, she was single-handedly destroying the house. She marches around, picks anything up that catches her eye, and then, when she's bored with it, drops it wherever. I don't expect her to know to put these things away. It just astounds me how quickly she makes a path of destruction through the house. Once I put her down for a nap, I don't put my feet up and rest. Oh, no! After I breathe a huge sigh of relief that she's still alive and well, I spend the next hour picking up, fixing, and cleaning everything that Gianna's left in her wake.
This house has a big stairwell (well, big for babies) and many more rooms than our last house. When I am alone with Gianna, there is at least one time where I am freaking out and yelling, "Gianna! Gianna! Where are you???" I race around the house in a panic because God only knows what she is capable of when she is left alone to her own devices. When I do find her, she is often just sitting there, with a small mischievous smile on her face, her eyes wickedly suggesting, "Got you!"
On the other hand, she loves being held by me. And while I used to complain that I couldn't get anything done, I'm now thinking that I prefer her riding my hip all day than letting her loose.
It is better for my nerves, anyway.
Happy Monday.
xo
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