January 17th, 2011

planet

spacebaby falling on her face

Someone has learned to pull up on furniture! And she's so pleased about it:



There's also video.

But don't get excited... she has no idea how to get down, so it's been a really trying weekend. And she's ambitious! I mean, she only spent about four days crawling before she used her crawling to get to things to pull up on. And now that she's pulling up, she wants to learn how to let go... and move around the perimeter, and grab things on the table. If we move the table, she pulls up on the couch. If we keep her away from the couch, she pulls up on the baby gate.

And it all ends with her falling, or us catching her... but since she pulls up 50 times a day and we only catch her correctly 90% of the time, that's still a lot of faceplants. I feel HORRIBLE. There's pain, tears, bruising, I hold her and kiss her and calm her down, then try to get her to play with blocks on the floor but something out there catches her eye and she's all grins, making a beeline towards the furniture. And I can't just leave her in the soft playpen for hours... pulling up is something babies have to do, and falling is how they learn about gravity, it's just driving me nuts!

Lately I feel really bad for all little kids who are disappointed in unexpected ways. I mean in a millisecond they can go from having the most fun ever to being utterly destroyed. I've always been sad to think of people dropping ice cream cones on the pavement, or getting balloons that pop, but now I think it's so much worse with kids because they're so much more happy than we ever can be, then are so much more crushed when things don't work out.

My friend had a facebook status about her little boys playing out in the snow, and the little one jumped face-first into a big pile of snow thinking it'd be like a big pile of leaves? Except it wasn't, so of course he practically broke his face, had to run in crying. It's that sort of thing that gets me.

All weekend I wondered if I was a terrible mother for worrying about a few silly little bruises, which I'm told are perfectly normal. Or I'd feel like a terrible mother for not catching her, even though I knew it was impossible to get her every time. Or I'd feel like a terrible mother for even letting her pull up on stuff when I know she'll get hurt, even though I know she has to run these experiments.

Rough times for all of us, that's all I can say.