In less than a week, Lucy will be one. I’ve been dreading this day, to be honest. Not because she’s growing up, getting older and bigger- I love that, and isn’t that the whole point of having kids? To have them grow up? No, I like the growing up part.
The thing is, I wish I could skip over the 12-18 months portion of the growing up program. This age kills me.
Newborns? I can handle newborns. I am great at functioning with little sleep and multitasking, so that part is cake.
Infants? Easy as pie. Even up through crawling I can handle no problem.
But one year olds? AGH. Dealing with a little person who has no impulse control and no concept of personal safety and no ability to reason? DRIVES ME INSANE. It kills me to have to repeat things, and that is just par for the course at this age. And I know it is developmentally appropriate and I know it is my job to teach her, but I don’t have to like it. And the fact that she actually has opinions and desires but can’t actually tell me what they are without shrieking or yelling? Oh it tries my patience. So. Not so much looking forward to the next six months on one hand, but on the other hand it’s a time for big changes so that part will be pretty fun.
Keep calm and carry on, right?