Well, here we are in Tennessee, and you couldn’t be happier about it.
Really, what’s not to love? When we left Boston, a “balmy spring day” was about 40 degrees. There was still a pile of snow on our front lawn. We had plenty of scheduled activities, like Mama Beast and playdates, but the bulk of our time was still spent with just you and me (not that I mind when it’s just the two of us, of course, but I did frequently find myself at a loss for what we could do that didn’t involve Sesame Street).
Since we arrived, we’ve rotated into a much more summery wardrobe of t-shirts, shorts, and adorable dresses. You get to walk on the grass barefoot (although this is less frequent than tearing across the lawn in your sandals, since you still find nature on your feet offensive). We’ve spent time with Grammy and your Aunt Leslie every single day, and I’ve even gotten to do terribly exciting things like grocery shop all by myself while you hang out with them.
Our routine is still a bit up in the air since we’re finding our footing and getting used to life here, but you’re settling in just wonderfully. Aside from two no-nap days when we first arrived, your sleep schedule has been fantastic. We’ve made no changes to your bedtime, but you’re sleeping in until after 7 a.m. every day — almost a full hour later than what you were doing in Boston. This makes your very pregnant, very tired mama very, very happy, because it means I get to sleep until 7 a.m. every day.
Your dad is getting used to his new job and his new commute, and we’re currently house-hunting. We probably won’t be all moved in to a new place until sometime after your sister is born, and that’s ok. This next house is the house you’re going to remember. It’s the house of which you’ll have your earliest memories, the house where we’ll be living for the 5-10 years, fingers crossed. So we’re taking our time with the hunt.
While we’re doing that, you’re practicing your comedy skills. You’ve really blossomed with the eyes of an audience besides myself upon you, and you play it up, girl. You know when you’re being funny and it’s nearly impossible not to laugh, even (or especially) when it’s behavior we don’t want to encourage. Like casually running your fork through your hair at dinner, flinging things into the air and shouting, “OH NO! OH NO!”, or standing up and dancing in the bathtub that doesn’t currently have a non-slip mat in it.
You were doing just that during your bath the other night. I tried in vain to be stern and convince you to sit on your butt in the tub rather than shake your bubble-covered groove thang, but the giggles got the best of me at the pure joy on your face. You turned to me, quite suddenly very solemn, just as I was telling you once again that we sit in the tub.
And you stuffed a plastic bath toy straight into my mouth.
Then you laughed hysterically and continued your bathtime boogie.
I guess we still have some work to do with those sitting skills.