Walking and "Ursing"

Caroline is walking, talking, teething and weaning. I'm exhausted. She is not herself. Perhaps the personality shift is due to the fact she is going through a little too much at once right now... either that or the body snatchers have been here. The walking and talking is going well. Her favorite words are "balloon" and "boobie". (The first body part she identified were her daddies "boop-ies". Isn't that nice.) She took her first steps faster and with less fear and inhibition than any little girl would appear to have. Now that she has fallen a few times, she is a bit more cautious. The teething seems to be lasting forever and is hard for everyone involved...she is getting her molars. Those are some gigantic teeth to have to bust up through such soft little gums. The Oragel and I have been playing hide-n-go seek all week long. When will I learn to put it back in the same place every time? It is currently hiding. So, now about weaning.... I think Caroline would say it is traumatizing. At least she acts like she is being tortured. If the girl can say "boopies", and nurse ("urse") and she can basically rip my clothes off, I think those are sufficient signals that it is time to wean her. Weirdos might disagree with me, but it has to stop sometime. I don't want her to be four years old and her favorite activity to still be "ursing". I have tried to cut it back to twice a day. About mid morning, Caroline locates me and starts clapping. (That is her way of saying please... We taught her some (incorrect) sign language so she would whine less and communicate in a more pleasant way. I recommend it but it doesn't stop the whining while they are teething!) If I don't respond to the clapping she throws herself on the floor (like a 2-year old) and screams "urse" and "no, no, no" and pitches the biggest fit I have ever seen a 1-year old throw. It is embarrassing, she looks like a little gremlin or something. It is not a fun sight to see your sweet child morph into something so grotesque and scary. I usually walk out of the room but she follows me and tries in every way possible to assert her will and get her way. Then, mid-afternoon or so, the whole thing happens again. By that time I start watching the clock and counting down the hours until daddy can come rescue us. Once he gets here she usually forgets about me because he is the favorite these days. I am not jealous, I love it. I love to see him sing, read, and roll in the floor with her. Well, my house is getting wrecked so... The End.