Wanna Samba

Let's face it, Maggie, you're not going to have a baby book.  I won't say never, but it's been ten months, and I've got nothing.  It's looking pretty unlikely.  But!  Thanks to the miracle of the Interweb, my inability to gather tokens like your hospital bracelet, your first locks of hair, and your newspaper birth announcement, and press them between pages of my handwriting doesn't mean that the important moments won't be documented.

May 12th, 2012.  Mother's Day.  The day Maggie learned to crawl. (with some footage of a little tantrum over a stolen toy in the middle)  Before you know it, she'll be learning to samba.



I try to remember why exactly I wanted this.  Why do I encourage sitting, scooting, crawling, standing, walking, riding without training wheels?  All I want after the skill is learned is to take it back.  Not really.  But.  A little bit.  It already feels like it's been a hundred years since she was the baby who melted into my chest, who wore those littlest of little diapers, who slept for most of the hours of the day despite the chaos of the four other bodies buzzing around her.

I guess this makes us both normal.  She for growing big and independent.  Me for wishing to make it stop.

Here's a milestone for your imaginary baby book, Mags:  Baby's First Heimlich - May 21, 2012.  Learning to eat table food is a minefield of airway compromise.  I almost forgot the moments of panic that come practically every mealtime with babies learning how to manage inhaling along with swallowing bits of meatballs and Cheerios.  Maggie is enthusiastic about nearly everything on her tray.   Enthusiastic, as in, eats with reckless abandon.  Pray for us.

UPDATE: It has been pointed out to me that Mother's Day was May 13th. Not the 12th. Good thing I didn't write that in indelible ink in a baby book.