Marathon

Edith seems to have entered an especially exhausting age. I realized this at about 10 am today when I wondered how long until swimming (which is at 1:45) and when I looked at the clock, seriously pondered shutting her into the closet for an hour. She’s just everywhere all the time, and her needs are constant and demanding but she won’t let me fulfill them. She needs to eat ALL DAY and she’s supposed to be mostly eating food now, but she has no coordination at all and she also doesn’t want it, so she’s starving and I’m always having to think of something to give her and then she won’t eat it, and then she cries because she’s hungry and then she makes a simply unbelievable mess with whatever food and liquid she (constantly) has access to and while I am cleaning that up, she is pulling the one remaining lamp in the house off the table, and while I am cleaning that up, she is falling off the rocking chair and screaming, and then she has pooped, and then she is starving again, and then she needs to nap but will not, and then she is in the laundry room somehow, and then she has found an apple and is throwing it down the hall and then while I am cleaning that up, she has fallen off another chair as well as having pooped again, and I just…don’t know if I’m up for this level of caretaking at my age.

It’s not even like I can take her to the park and just let her go, because she still wants to eat acorns and play with used tissues, so the park requires constant vigilance. What I need, really, is a giant padded room with play equipment in it, which is basically what baby gym is, but I need access to it all weekend long, not just for 45 minutes on Saturday morning.

Anyway, at swimming Edith graduated to Swimboree finally and then when we got home, she passed out for two hours.

(Still no armadillo. I do not think we are going to catch this armadillo.)