Growing Pains

Watching Amelia's daily growth is truly an amazing luxury in my life. She has grown from a tiny newborn that needed us for everything into chubby baby girl that only needs us for 99% of everything. So, maybe she isn't exactly doing her own laundry yet, but she is starting to do some minor developmental things. This has actually become a blessing and a curse. For example, recently, she has become very adept at using her hands. This is wonderful because there really isn't a better feeling than when she grabs hold of your finger while you are snuggling her. However, this same motor skill allows her to repeatedly pull her pacifier out of her mouth and then subsequently scream about this dire situation. Also, she has begun speaking, mostly baby talk with what I believe to be a little Spanish thrown in for effect. So, while it is hilarious when she just keeps talking and talking as if she is holding court, it stops being funny when she decides to do it at 4 a.m. - for an hour. And this brings me to her last trick...she has finally grown to a point where she doesn't like to get swaddled to go to sleep. This, I assure you, pleases all of the grandparents as they all feel swaddle blankets are straight-jackets' evil stepsisters. It actually makes me happy as well because she does look more comfortable and relaxed while sleeping. Yet, as you may have guessed, there is a downside. Now that her arms, also known as weapons of mass destruction, are free, she continually scratches her face in her sleep. She goes to bed with a cherubic angel face and wakes up looking like she spent the night on a steel wool pillow. This concerns me for a few reasons. First, I love her and don't want her to get hurt. Second, the fact that we can clip her fingernails in the afternoon and they have already grown enough for them to scratch her by that night is creepy to me. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, I am concerned about my standing with the Department of Child Services. Let's be honest, after I dropped her on her head, they probably put me on a short list of suspected abusers. The last thing I need is her showing up to daycare looking like she just fought a bobcat. So tonight, to combat these problems, Mia is stylishly sleeping with two long, red socks stretched over each arm. They may not look the best, but if they keep her from pulling out her pacifier, waking up to chat, or gouging at her face all night, they are going to become bedtime staples.