All of a sudden, I can feel time moving quickly. Phoebe is pulling herself up on everything in the apartment. She wants to walk so badly and it won't be long now before she does. She has two teeth now (we proudly call her Queen Two-Teefa") and more are ready to come at any moment. She is eating solid food and drinking water from a sippy cup and is beginning to know her power at how to rule our roost. The only way I can think to slow this moment down is to write about it, so when I'm onto another amazing phase, I'll be able to remember that this one existed. I'm happy to report that she is mostly sleeping through the night, which is so nice for her mother. It gives me the rest I need to run after her as she crawls/pulls/rolls herself across the apartment.
I had two "babyproofers" in this week to give me estimates. (a job that did not exist when we were children.) We grew up in a world without seat belts or helmets. One where our mothers smoked unabashedly in our faces and where safety for babies meant keeping an eye out and hoping for the best. We were lucky to have survived. These days, the babyproofers rule and for a small fee they can help your apartment turn from a snake pit into a soft-cornered, baby friendly play pen. I'm happy to sign up for the program. Anything I can do to keep my little dare devil as safe as possible. And since walking is just around the corner, I better get on it.
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