Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!

If you read books on genetics, the so-called "experts" will tell you that babies get one half of their genes from their mother and one half from their father.  They have obviously never met Babykins, who I swear inherited approximately 90% of her genetic material from Hubbykins.

Let's start with the physical attributes.  Aside from her very pale skin and blond hair (I'll admit Hubbykins had blond hair as a baby, too, but I need to claim credit for a few things!), Babykins is the spitting image of her daddy.  She has beautifully curly hair, and everyone who sees the two of them together exclaims over how much she looks like Hubbykins.

The similarities don't stop there, though.  The other day we were in our bedroom, and Babykins was playing on the bed.  She crawled to the edge and, without looking, threw herself off the mattress, landed in a big pile of blankets, rolled down the pile, and ended on the floor on her back, arms splayed out, laughing and smiling.  As I hyperventilated, Hubbykins just laughed, explaining that she'd discovered the conveniently positioned pile of blankets days before and had been pulling this daredevil maneuver ever since.

As she got up and ran off to pull all of the clothes out of her dresser, I swear I heard Babykins laugh in an Australian accent.

Oy, oy, oy!

Welcome Back!

We have returned from our trip to Australia, and Babykins officially has stamps in her passport.  It was a great trip, and Babykins once again reminded us why she's the best baby in the world.  Not only are we proud of the things she did - smiled and cooed at friends and family, napped like a champ, ate her first bites of chicken, and behaved beautifully while being babysat - we're also proud of the things she didn't do.

First and foremost, unlike all of the other babies around us on the plane ride home, Babykins did not throw up.  After having toddlers in the rows directly in front and behind us do some serious throwing up, I've never been so proud of Babykins ability to keep her food in her tummy.  She also avoided public meltdowns and held off on developing stranger anxiety and crawling abilities (two milestones that often pop up around this age) while traveling in another country and on small, enclosed planes.

Thank you for a fabulous trip, Babykins!  You were brave, well-behaved, and (as one soon-to-be father put it) a good advertisement for having kids.  As a reward, we're giving you 17 days of R&R before we test you one more time on the flight to Pennsylvania.

Gray Hairs and Wrinkles

Motherhood, like the presidency, ages you.  Before Babykins was born, I always made sure to take my ID with me when I went to a bar or the liquor store.  While it was a (very big) stretch to think I wasn't 21, I at least looked like I could be in the range they should card.  Between sleepless nights and constant worry, though, it would now be no surprise that I'm rounding on 30.

Over the last couple weeks, Babykins has become increasingly mobile, quickly adding to the aging process.  She rolls, she bottom scoots, she crawls backwards.  She can't yet get anywhere fast, but she's deteremined.

Case in point...Yesterday Babykins was exhausted, but desperately fighting nap time.  I put her down on her bed (we're using a mattress on the floor next to our bed here in Australia) with her pacifier and told her I'd be back to check on her in a few minutes.  Five minutes later I open the door, and her bed is empty.

Within moments, I've had a heart attack, called her name, yelled for Hubbykins, and figured out where she is.  I bent down, pulled up the quilt on our bed, and there she is, on her tummy, pushed up on her arms with her head held high, pride in her eyes and a big smile on her face.  She had managed to roll herself off her mattress and all the way under the bed.

Hubbykins extraced her while I finished hyperventilating and grew a few more gray hairs.  A wonderful adventure for Babykins, and a warning to us that Babykins is on the move!