My baby is the cutest, smartest, best baby in the world. Obvs.
And she’s confusing and frustrating and sometimes it feels like she hates me. Also, she can read my thoughts. (I.e., the moment I’m about to fall asleep or wash dishes or get in the shower, she cries, as though she knew that that was the worst possible moment and she wanted to remind me who’s boss.)
At this point, she seems to have inherited almost all her looks and personality from my husband. I’m okay with that. He’s a pretty cool dude, after all.
She’s growing way too fast, of course. Except for the times when I wish she would get older faster so she could eat solid food/crawl/burp on her own/entertain herself for more than five minutes.
She hates tummy time. (Sigh.) But on the plus side, she likes baths.
She has the most beautiful smile in the world.
She loves to snuggle. (I’m so glad.)
All in all, I think she’s an easy baby. I thank my lucky stars for that.
I’m so grateful I get to be her mom.