Aftermirth

This week has been full of good Ruby moments and umm.. not so good Ruby moments.

Highlights

Ruby “Mashed potato” Hughes expressed her pleasure (or displeasure, depending on how you interpret the screams) for mashed potatoes. (Warning: Ruby is LOUD, so adjust your volume accordingly):

The weather was terrible on Sunday, so we cuddled up in the bed and tried to keep Ruby entertained. Apparently this involved Chris jumping up and down on the bed yelling “Peepo! Peepo!”. Evidence here:

Lowpoints

Ruby is teething.

We all got colds.

And this morning I had quite a shituation on my hands. Ruby’s never been much of a poo-out-her-pants-and-down-her-leg-then-wipe-her-hands-in-it-then-accidentally-wipe-your-own-hands-in-it-then-have-to-undress-her-in-the-bathtub-then-hold-her-disgusting-naked-poo-covered-body-under-the-warm-shower-to-get-it-all-off kind of girl.

Now she is. There is no video for this, for VERY good reason.

Yesterday was Ruby’s half-birthday. Happy .5 Ruby!!!

Time plays funny tricks on new parents. I can’t remember what life was like before Ruby came along, and I also can’t believe how quickly the past six months have flown by. It doesn’t make sense.

You can see month-by-month comparison pics of the Rubester in the Growing Ruby photo set on Flickr. I’m happy to report she looks A LOT happier in her six month photo than she did in her one month photo (boy, she did NOT look impressed!):

“Mom, I am not a performing monkey”

“Mom, I am a performing monkey”

Like sands through a fire hose, so are the days of our lives.

I just installed a gate at the top of our stairs (of impending doom) to prevent Lil Ruby from taking a nasty tumble. Unfortunately she does not yet have a stunt double. So until she does, it looks like I’m going to have to baby-proof the house.

You may be wondering why I would need to begin baby-proofing. Well because Ruby is crawling. CRAWLING. (Yes, crawling). Crawl-ing! I had secretly hoped she would be one of those babies that didn’t crawl or talk or walk or roll over until well after her 2nd birthday.

It would appear that she has inherited my husband’s curiosity and my extreme motivation. This is a lethal combination for a mobile 6 month old. She wants to grab/scratch/lick/bite/climb everything she sees. She looks in the face of danger and laughs maniacally. I’m terrified.

She’s already trying to pull herself up on to the couch and on top of the coffee table. She almost stabbed me in the neck with a butter knife she swiftly grabbed from my dinner plate.

Needless to say I’m keeping a close eye on her these days. And dreading the day she figures out how to walk.

Be afraid, be very afraid: