Oh, Just Wait.

Since the day I told people I was pregnant, I feel like 75% of the comments I received started with “Oh, just wait…”  You feel good?  Oh, just wait till you hit 8 months in the heat, you won’t feel good any more.  You can still fit in your clothes?  Oh, just wait until that belly pops out and you have to wear a mu-mu.  You’re sleeping through the night, comfortably?  Oh just wait until the baby starts pressing on your bladder and you’re up every hour and it takes you 45 minutes to fall back to sleep and you contemplate smothering your spouse as he snores peacefully through every effort filled roll over you attempt at 2am that shakes the bed like an eartquake.

It doesn’t stop after you have the kid either.  She slept for 20 hours a day in the hospital?  Oh, just wait till you get her home and she’s up screaming every two hours.  You can put her down on a play mat and wander away while she happily bats and gurgles at her toys?  Oh, just wait until she starts rolling over and you come back to find her stuck under her crib.  She eats everything you feed her, happily?  Oh, just wait until she starts screaming at the sight of something that’s not in the carb family on her high chair tray and refusing to eat anything with corners.

We have entered what I think is the biggest “Oh, just wait” so far:  walking.  This is a fairly new development.  I was sure Emilia would be walking by the time we went on vacation in August.  I pictured her walking up to animals in the petting zoo, running into the arms of Minnie Mouse in Disney Land, and frolicking on the beach with her best friends.  I mean, she was pulling up on things, and cruising around furniture, surely she’s just let go and start walking, right?  Nope.  She did the cruising thing for months before she even took a few steps on her own from couch to coffee table.  She started letting go and standing on her own, but only on her own terms.  If we tried to stand her up, she’d drop to her knees and crawl away (super stubborn.  Like her father.  Who am I kidding?  Like her mother too).

Then one day she started taking a few more steps, and then a few more, and by Thanksgiving, she was walking back and forth in the kitchen, complete with standing turns.  She falls sometimes, but mostly to her knees or her butt, no major wipe outs yet (Oh, just wait until she cracks her head on the tile and screams bloody murder).  She was at the – she can walk, but gets there faster by crawling – stage for about half a day, and now she’s a full out walker.  We went to BJs the other night, and she squirmed in the carriage, so J took her out and put her on his shoulders, where she squealed with delight and patted his head.  We then took turns following her around the store as she walked, fell, got up, walked, yelled at pictures of dogs, fell, and walked as fast as she could to J at the deli, yelling “da-da!  da-da!”

After that excursion, we declared ourselves in the next phase: toddlerhood.  So far, I find it fun but exhausting.  Kind of like motherhood in general.  We’re currently Oh, just waiting for the climbing stage to start.