The Baby Girl has outgrown her ExerSaucer.

This is a pretty major event for us because it was one of the last places we could put her where she would just stay without complaining. All we have left now are a little seat we keep in the bedroom so we can get dressed without worrying about what she’s getting in to, the crib where she’ll stay happily with a few toys while I have a shower, the playpen, which often elicits wailing, and the high chair, where she won’t stay for long after the food is gone. She’s also learned to stand on toys in the playpen to try and reach things she shouldn’t be reaching.

This means that a lot of my day now is spent chasing her and shooing her away from things she shouldn’t be getting in to.

This means that my day is always tiring and sometimes very frustrating, and that sometimes I put her in the stroller and go for a walk or stick her in the car and go for a drive just so I don’t have to worry about her for a few minutes.

And that means that I’m always wishing that I could get a little more time to read, or knit, or write, or just sit quietly, or even clean the house a little bit.

I’m in a zone of trying to get us as organized as we can be before I got to work. I’m trying to go through my closet to make sure I have work clothes, go through her drawers to make sure everything that’s there fits. I want to organize our recipes so meal planning and grocery shopping are easier. I want to purge all the useless things and cut down on the excess crap.

At the same time I want to work on getting her to switch to sippy cups, getting her started with the potty, trying to figure out how to wean her off formula and trying to figure out what I might be forgetting. At the same time I want to get her out for play with other kids, I want to help her get her words going, I want to make sure we’re reading to her…

Meanwhile I’m already planning our transition to daycare week. The first day I drop her off for two hours, maybe I schedule a haircut that won’t end with me rushing out because the baby doesn’t like the hairdryer. The second day, three or four hours, maybe I can finally get back to the dentist. The third day is six hours, maybe I take myself to a movie where I won’t have to chase her up the stairs to keep her happy. On on the fourth day she goes for the full day, and maybe that day I get Daddy to drop her off and pick her up, I sleep in, get my work bag organized, check the bus schedules, clean the house from top to bottom and do some pre-cooking for the week ahead to make our transition that much easier.

Maybe I take that week to get all of that done and not feel guilty for being excited to have a little free time for myself, knowing that the baby is well taken care of.

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