OK, so Friday wasn’t the worst day ever, but it certainly was pretty awful. Some of the drama remains ongoing, and involves UPS losing our signed home equity loan check. It's an pretty unfortuante error that is about the equivalent of misplacing a new Subaru. (I always think of dollar amounts in terms of Subarus, and I have no idea why.)
In other news, Josie- she of the sunshine and light and smiles- has been good and ticked off for the last three days. The jury is out on just why this is, although I suspect it is a combination of a unseen new tooth, constipation and an overtaxed brain that is dying to learn to crawl and/or walk. She spends much of the day voicing her discontent. She is now nine months old, and until this weekend showed no interest in ambulation of any type. I usually laugh and say that she is too fat and happy, and she’ll probably be contently sitting on my living room floor instead of going to the prom, but deep down inside I have a constant dialogue of fear. What if she is motor delayed? What if her brain was irrevocably damaged during that full day I stayed home treating my liver failure with warm baths and Rolaids? What if my baby is hurt and it is my fault?
If a parent brought my child to me with the same fears I would reassure them, and tell them that all babies develop on their own schedule. I would point out her excellent social and fine motor skills. I would ask when her mother learned to walk and nod knowingly when she admitted that she had been almost fifteen months. I would not worry about her. But since I am not Josie’s doctor, I do worry.
Being a mom is hard.
