little puppy, you are more than a year old now. you have three words (four if we count
woof, your word for dog) and you can sometimes sort of walk. you're the cutest, smiliest baby around. if someone is ignoring you, you tilt your head and peer into their face with the most beautiful puzzled expression around. if someone is being silly with you, you wrinkle up your tiny nose at them, then laugh uproariously at them. you have three top teeth and three bottom teeth, but not the same ones. top right eyetooth, top middle teeth. bottom middle teeth, bottom left eyetooth. it's like a diagonal stripe of teeth. they make me laugh every time you laugh. which is often.
you adore me, your daddy, your brother, and the cat. not in that order. the cat, obviously, is first in your heart. but i make the list, at least. you give us all drooly open-mouth kisses, drape yourself across us dramatically, try to feed food from your slobbery mouth, pet us, wave goodbye whenever you leave a room... you have so much affection in your sturdy little body.
but.
in your extreme old age you have decided that you don't need to sleep as much. puppy, it ain't true. staying up until one, getting up at seven, and only napping once - this is insanity. i can't keep up. and i have to stay awake when your brother is awake, too. this is too much. a year ago you slept almost 20 hours a day. that was really nice. you don't need to go to that extreme, but a few more hours a day would be splendid.
also, quit waking up to nurse at night. you're old enough that you don't need to. and it doesn't help with my chronic exhaustion and subsequent crabbiness.
and this climbing thing. you've proven that you can get anywhere your brother can. but he's almost three and can climb more safely than you, usually. you can't really even walk, but you're already halfway up the bookcase, on the back of the couch, and up on the table constantly. i'm getting a nervous twitch. please stay closer to the ground. pleasepleaseplease, my fearless dumpling.lastly, please quit getting older. you're already too big, too independent. you need to stay a baby so i can snuggle you and play with your rolls and raspberry your cheeks forever. because i don't think you'll let me do that when you're 30.
thankyou.
this be the holy day of pastafarians, and we be celebratin' in high style. hoist the mainsail and veer to starboard and eat spaghetti, it's september 19!
little puppy, you are more than a year old now. you have three words (four if we count woof, your word for dog) and you can sometimes sort of walk. you're the cutest, smiliest baby around. if someone is ignoring you, you tilt your head and peer into their face with the most beautiful puzzled expression around. if someone is being silly with you, you wrinkle up your tiny nose at them, then laugh uproariously at them. you have three top teeth and three bottom teeth, but not the same ones. top right eyetooth, top middle teeth. bottom middle teeth, bottom left eyetooth. it's like a diagonal stripe of teeth. they make me laugh every time you laugh. which is often.
you adore me, your daddy, your brother, and the cat. not in that order. the cat, obviously, is first in your heart. but i make the list, at least. you give us all drooly open-mouth kisses, drape yourself across us dramatically, try to feed food from your slobbery mouth, pet us, wave goodbye whenever you leave a room... you have so much affection in your sturdy little body.
but.
in your extreme old age you have decided that you don't need to sleep as much. puppy, it ain't true. staying up until one, getting up at seven, and only napping once - this is insanity. i can't keep up. and i have to stay awake when your brother is awake, too. this is too much. a year ago you slept almost 20 hours a day. that was really nice. you don't need to go to that extreme, but a few more hours a day would be splendid.
also, quit waking up to nurse at night. you're old enough that you don't need to. and it doesn't help with my chronic exhaustion and subsequent crabbiness.
and this climbing thing. you've proven that you can get anywhere your brother can. but he's almost three and can climb more safely than you, usually. you can't really even walk, but you're already halfway up the bookcase, on the back of the couch, and up on the table constantly. i'm getting a nervous twitch. please stay closer to the ground. pleasepleaseplease, my fearless dumpling.lastly, please quit getting older. you're already too big, too independent. you need to stay a baby so i can snuggle you and play with your rolls and raspberry your cheeks forever. because i don't think you'll let me do that when you're 30.
thankyou.
please excuse the picture quality, my camera wasn't charged so i had to use the webcam.
my baby has his first flu. he's burning hot to the touch and pouring puke, tears, snot, drool and shit from all the right orfices. the poor little man is miserable. he wants to be held at all times and only sleeps in my arms. by 'sleep' i mean he takes restless naps for no longer than ten minutes. i'm in a fog of exhaustion, unable to even fathom keeping up with the making of food or cleaning of the home. the boy has mostly been left to his own devices, and he's been really good. mostly.
if it doesn't look like much,bear in mind that my garden would fit in most peoples' bathrooms. and tomato season is just begun. (it runs for another 3 weeks, until the first frost)
today i went with some friends to an amazing organic greenhouse. they had everything. herbs, trees, flowers, etc. almost everything was rare or unusual. apricot orange trees, patchouli plants... you name it, they had some obscure variation of it, organically grown, suited to these bitter canadian climes. i wandered around touching leaves and calling out my discoveries to my friends (also trying to keep the boy from destroying the place, it was his first time out of the house in days and he had some energy to burn)
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