Miss Frugalista is turning into a (much cuter version) of the Energizer bunny — she just keeps going, and going, and going.
And I’m having a hard time keeping up with her!
Now, I realize I’m also one of those always-going people. In fact, my endocrinologist asked if I worked out a lot because my pulse is always so low. I almost died laughing at that one. I don’t exactly have an athletic build — in fact, an old softball teammate remarked that it was ‘painful’ to watch me run. You can’t run too gracefully with these curves.
Anyway, back to my point, that I’m always doing something. I could be painting trim, putting up sheetrock, planing doors or working in the yard at any given time. I don’t know what downtime is. Mr. Not-So-Frugal knows that it’s like pulling teeth to get me to sit down and watch a TV show — even if it’s one I like. I don’t have an “off” switch.
That being said, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that our daughter is turning out to be a mini-me. Other mothers tell me all about how their similarly-aged child will sit on a blanket with them at the park in a shade and play with toys, or sweetly pass out on the couch (or, even more oddly, on a baby trampoline, but that’s neither here nor there).
My child? She’s just turned 17 months old and is already climbing the stairs standing up and holding the railing on one side, and holding my hand on the other. She’s picking up her little leg and trying to swing it over any obstacle that gets in the way of her running like a loon around the house. Baby gate? Leg goes up. Crib? Leg goes up. Thank goodness she’s still short, but I’m counting the days until she figures out how to escape the crib. THEN we’re in trouble.
Forget trying to corral her. If she’s feeling too-contained, she will point and whine and plead her case until you get her out of what I lovingly call “baby jail.” A trip into Mommy’s office results in all of the books being pulled off the bookshelves. Bath time never involves just sitting in the 3 inches of water and playing — she’s standing and trying to turn on the faucet. And her idea of unwinding before bedtime is to take the two 2-foot-wide pillows from the futon in her room, lay them on the ground, and JUMP on them, face/belly first. So, dear readers, you can see how exhausted I am. My only solace is that she really doesn’t get herself into trouble.
We’re going to a trip to North Carolina next month, where we’ll be the only ones out of our group of 12 friends who has a child. Folks, I hope you’re ready for the Tasmanian Toddler — we’re gonna need a lot of sangria after she goes to bed!