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Today, it’s Super Tuesday and with Matthew and Owen in school and Olivia not feeling well and lounging around, Emi and I are going to sit here and watch the news.
This baby turns eight months old next week and at eight months old I am fairly ceratin of one thing:
She ain’t gonna sit and do a goddamned thing.
My hopes of loafing around and staring at the television all day are shattered by the reality that Emi is in no way going to allow something else to get any of my attention so long as she is awake. She has hit that stage where you must keep her entertained or she is going to get into things, which is remarkable, really, since she isn’t even mobile.
Being born prematurely, the doctor’s told us to expect her to be developmentally behind on some things and for a while, she was a bit small. Now, she is growing and although she is still little compared the other humongous ass babies I birthed, she is pretty much caught up. When it comes to her skillz at baby-ing… she is working on it.
Comparitively, she is really behind when I remember the other three. Matthew took his first steps at seven months old after never crawling an inch and Olivia was walking at nine months. Owen was sitting up by three months and kicking Matthew’s ass by a year. Emi is a bit different, though. She has yet to ever roll over on her own but she is just now learning how to sit up by herself. I’m working with her a lot on this stuff.
I do have to say that she doesn’t seem bothered by her immobility. Emi has no issue causing mayhem from a sitting position and if anyone in this house wasn’t obsessed with her spoiled, little ass then maybe they would hate her. Maybe she would be annoying.
But I doubt it.
What’s weird is just how accomodating the other kids are to her when she is acting out. If Olivia were to begin gnashing her chompers on one of Owen’s toys he would kick the shit out of her, throw the toy at her head, spit in her face and then heckle her. If Emi gnashes on one of his toys, he glows at her and finds her more of his shit to chew on.
If Owen were to pull Olivia’s hair she would gouge out his eyes with a fork, kick him in the balls and scream threats at him all the while beating him over the head with a boot. When Emi does it, she giggles like a mad woman and falls all over herself in glee.
Anytime Owen or Olivia interrupts Matthew while he is reading, he screams at them, flops around melodramatically, slams doors and lobs Legos at them until they run away. When Emi interrupts his reading, he pulls her close and starts reading out loud to her.
My kids truly enjoy fucking with Dean. They like to run up, yank his glasses right off his face and haul ass with them, giggling in a corner somewhere as he stumbles blindly around the house trying to recover them. Also, they screw with his work shit, which, in the Army is ridiculously forbidden. Covered in unit patches and all sorts of other shit used be okay as they were stitched on to the unifroms and, therefore, not coming off.
Now…. they are velcro.
Everything comes off. The name plates, the American flag patch, the unit patch, the rank… every bit of it velcros on and, as a result, velcros right the fuck off again with ease. My kids are constantly sneaking up on Dean and pulling off a patch with a satisfying riiiip before scurrying away with it as fast as they can. Dean gets up and runs them down and demands the patch back but, as is typical with small children two seconds after doing something naughty, they cannot remember what they did with it. As a result, Dean is turning the house upside down looking for the goddamned thing, swearing and creating mayhem in the process.
Emi does it and he thinks it’s adorable. Granted, she can’t run off with them, but whatever. That is neither here nor there. Well, actually, I suppose it’s here rather than there since she can’t run off and make it there which forces it to be here, still. But you know what I mean.
Emi likes to eat the patches and this bugs me for two reasons. First, because they are rough being that they are fuckin’ velcro. You would think this would hurt her gums and I believe maybe it does because she chews away on them and looks pained as she does it. Yet, she doesn’t stop because she is a wee baby and wee babies eat things that are gross and painful because they cannot control the impulse to do so. Wee babies are icky.
Those patches are fucking disgusting. You can’t wash the uniforms with the patches on there and they get filthy. They live at the motorpool all covered in grease and diesel. They live at the range covered in gun residue and dirt. They live out in the field with all sorts of nasty shit.
And, they live in Emi’s mouth.
Ew! I hate it. Granted, her immune system should be out of this fuckin’ world, but…. ew! I’m seriously considering buying her a shitload of patches to chew on that never touch Dean’s uniform but I’m realistic, here. The older kids will haul ass with his and he’ll take Emi’s instead of running them down and tossing the house in search of them.
Emi and I will watch the news today, or, at the very least we will listen to it in the background as we play. This is alright with me. She makes me smile and laugh and I’m crazy in love with her and if she wants to be a pesky, little bugger then that’s okay with me.
The pesky, little bugger is adorable.