This was supposed to be the age that I would love.
But I don’t.
She was supposed to be happy. Be able to sit for hours with a toy and entertain herself.
This is the age I hate the most so far.
She cries more than she ever has. She melts down when she doesn’t get her way.
She’s always frustrated because she can’t go everywhere with me. If I leave the room I’m just asking for a puddle of tears.
Papa isn’t good enough.
She doesn’t really like her solid food anymore because it isn’t really new and exciting. She just wants to nurse like every hour.
She really wants to go, but attempting to walk/crawl/stand only winds up pissing her off.
No. I do not like this age one bit.
It is kind of like a deja vu to my pregnancy, “You’ll feel better/stop throwing up at _____ weeks.”