Pulled Up

 7 months pulled up on her own. 

Today: December 16

She's napping. I'm feeling all kinds of down and out. 25 days til the move. 

I had a BAD day, on the day it was 47 days left. Lots of crying, lots of feeling isolated and alone, lots of just sad stuff... for seemingly no reason. (Hormones are possible, I suppose.)

One of the things I told myself to get myself through the blues was, "It's okay to feel this way. 47 is an awful number. SO close to 50. SO far from 40. You won't keep feeling this way past 30 days. Past 30 days and you'll be in the home stretch."

So here we are. 25 days out. And I'm feeling like it's more like a 25 year jail sentence. I was told to suck it up buttercup and focus on the positives. 

SO

I'll just use my time to fill in the blanks of the last few months. Writing should be cathartic, right?

I went back to the last time I wrote- sometime near the ending of April and pulled up the pictures and videos from then. I'm glad I did. This little video of the first time Iyla pulled up put the biggest grin on my face.  

Look how proud of herself she is.

This was kind of a big "motherhood moment" for me. I was washing the dishes the first time she pulled up. I turned around to find that she was already pretty much standing up. I felt so disheartened that I had missed such a huge thing, for something as silly as the dishes. 

I have the best job in the world, watching this angel grow... and I'm missing things because I'm worried about the dishes- about the house being clean. 

It was just the wake up call I needed to play more, clean less, and focus more on holding tight to the small moments.

Band practice.