The difference is, its probably the only way most of you will have to keep up with her. I’m going to start doing this weekly, and try to go up from there. If you READ it and COMMENT on things, then I might be encouraged to do more with it. You never know.
As most of the people who would be reading this will already know, I never wanted to have kids. Despite this firm belief that I would never reproduce and oral contraceptives to reinforce that faith, I got pregnant anyway. Its really my mother’s fault; she always wanted me to have a grandchild for her, and she finally got her nefarious way. Oh, it’s also her fault that she’s a girl. That’s right, I put it in writing. HER FAULT. Go ahead, try to argue with me.
Anywho, we’re coming up on Kori Lynn’s first birthday, which is really surreal to me. Thank God the little brats, er, darlings don’t really separate different days like they will in a few years. I think that’s the only saving grace about this period of time.
I spent the majority of the day running around jumping through various governmental administrative hoops, which was ever so much fun. Then we went to Toys-R-Us. With Kori. For two hours. It was also her first time with shoes on, walking around. She didn’t like them, and constantly ran away from me and mom because, I can only assume, we’re the horrible people that put these terrible things on her feet, and so if she ran to another adult she can totally get them to remove them for her, please?
First, putting shoes on this kid is kind of like trying to strap C4 to a struggling cat: its dangerous, not very fun, and someone is bound to get hurt. She acts as if you’re trying to murder her, arching her back, screaming, kicking, twisting; it’s a nightmare. So after the long, long struggle to put the shoes on her, she spent a good five minutes trying to scrape them off, then finally stood with them on. She started stomping around, angrily, but then got a little happy when she realized that stomping on the floor is fun, and these things on her feet don’t make her heels sting when she puts the full force of her baby anger into her stomps. She still didn’t like it though, and kept running away from me and my mom at every opportunity and cried if we picked her up. It was hilarious, for the first 3 minutes. Then the next 27 were unbearable. Their low center of gravity must account for the surprising speed in the human offspring, because I don’t think that even in my prime I could ever have pulled off those speeds.
After putting nearly ever toy in her reach in her mouth, running from us, and screaming at the top of her lungs in a mixture of anger and happiness (which is something I notice kids do a lot…), she finally calmed down when we got into the truck, out on the street, then to the highway. Well, a little bit down the highway…ok, she screamed almost the entire way home, and that’s a long fucking drive. God I’ll be glad when crying and screaming aren’t her primary means of communication. By then of course she’ll be married and on her own…
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