I'm quite certain Eisley has surpassed the weight limit in the swing, but I can't bring myself to retire it quite yet. I can hear the extra work as it struggles loudly to keep a nineteen pound chunk on the move. And aside from it being emotional that she is outgrowing everything, sometimes it buys me sleep or me time. I think we are transitioning from three naps down to two which might just kill me.
Eisley had pears yesterday and hated them. You would have thought I was feeding her spoonfuls of bitter coffee grounds by her reaction to every bite. I don't believe in pushing pureed foods along with nursing, and am doing as much as I am to make a slight transition from milk to milk and table foods.
Yesterday I browsed for potential future homes; I have a general idea of what our future holds but being that so many things are dependent on other variables, it felt sort of rebellious to consider a move. Some day, we will build a dream home, complete with a porch for drinking coffee and reading, a hot tub, a wide open floor plan with a huge kitchen, and many many windows. The dreaming of the future makes it fun.
I have held out long enough. Three comforters top our bed, our heat has been on all week, and it looks like fall outside. The pumpkin decorations are coming out of hiding. And I am no longer unable to suppress the urge to bake caramel, cinnamon, apple and pumpkin-like things which means I should cut all ties with the scale until January.
Speaking of scales...have I mentioned Jimmy and the Atkins diet? In typical manly fashion, he loses weight just by thinking about it. He practically gallops to the scale every day to record another loss while I sit in bed eating cookies and pretending to be extremely happy that he's losing weight and I'm not.
I'm 99% sure that the other day, she said to me in the car, "Go home and get a life." I am also 99% certain that I have never ever uttered anything even remotely close to this.
Ruby often asks where we are driving to, are we there yet, what are we doing, etc. She happened to ask me this on the way home from Kansas when we were getting gas. After I told her so, she replied, "OH BOY, I like gas!"
After a meltdown of epic proportions, I told Ruby, "You are being so delightful!" She quickly corrected me, "No, I'm not! I'm tired!" Touché, little one.
And bless her sweet heart; she has been passed some obsessive compulsive tendencies from both sides:
Note her invisa-dog. She told me she was in costume.