Garnett is nearly 20 months.  It is the weirdest shit yet.  She isn’t walking (as dancing on her knees still remains her favorite form of transport), whilst the walker the pediatrician recommended, sits innocently where she has currently pushed it (on her knees of course).  She is currently standing up on the couch.  Standing up on the couch.  Yup.  Heaven forbid she stand on the floor solidly.  She is so obstinate.   It’s weird how my mother’s hope for me has come true after all these years: I hope one day you have a daughter JUST LIKE YOU.  My daughter makes me appreciate my own idiosyncracies and perceived “defects”.  In my daughter I see my best me.  Even if it comes across as assholish that day.

Update: all of my worrying was pointless and stupid and comparing kids to other kids, or parenting styles to other parenting styles, causes unnecessary turbulence and rifts.  The best advice I ever got was when I was pregnant.  A sage woman told me to be whatever mom I wanted to be and to do what I thought was best.  Stay-at-home or go to work; breast-fed or bottle; c-section or vaginal birth are all incredibly personal decisions and do not make or break you as a mother.

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