Hmm, how can I put this delicately?

I'm kind of not enjoying the baby right now.

(For those inclined to fret or jump to the conclusion that I'm in some sort of adoption-attachment crisis, don't worry. I love my kids, but there are plenty of times when I don't enjoy them!)

Mira has suddenly entered a rather exhausting phase that goes like this:
FRANTIC: Pick me up!
SQUIRM, TWIST, BACKBEND: Put me down!
FLOP DOWN ON THE FLOOR AND THROW HER FACE INTO MY SHOES: Pick me up!
ARCH BACK: Put me down!
(repeat)

Accompanying this new "dissatisfied wiggly eel" behavior is the yelling. If she wants anything, she yells. She's a bit young for us to say, "Use your words" - although she does have a word now. It's dog. ("Da!" See? Brilliant). I remember the older kids doing the same yelling thing, but I can't remember what we did to deal with it. (Aggravating, sieve-like memory of mine. I probably had some really great strategy that taught 10-month-olds not to yell but I can't remember it now).

I would have never admitted publicly that I didn't enjoy Ethan's babyhood (colicky, gassy, sleepless Ethan) because I felt too guilty. Three kids later, my Mommy Guilt has significantly diminished and I have learned that all kids go through not-fun phases (at least, all of my kids!) You grit your teeth and then the phase passes.

I think big developmental milestones are often preceded by challenging behavior. In Mira's case, she has started to stand without holding on to anything and is really wanting to walk. (Already she seems like so many youngest children: if her older siblings are doing it, she wants to do it. And they're all walking). She is also "talking" - pointing at objects and declaring meaningful phrases like "Ah-ba-dah!" If only we could crack the code.

So, when she's crabby/challenging/needy/however you want to say it, there's not much to do except shake my head and try to breathe deeply. Or better, thrust her at Randy, saying "Here!"

Q: Is that a hickey on Ethan's face?

A: No, but it looks like one. Apparently "regular vacuuming" got too boring so he vacuumed his cheek with the hose attachment. The round, red circle doesn't look like it will be disappearing anytime soon. His reaction? "Now I can tell my friends I vacuumed my face!" I'm quite sure if he had any idea what a hickey was he'd be mortified instead of gleeful.

This isn't the first time Ethan has "pulled an Ethan." I took him to my polling place a few years ago so he could participate in Kids Voting. He immediately stuck the "I Voted" sticker over his eye, declaring, "Hey Mom, I'm a pirate!" Then he discovered that the adhesive on the back of the "I Voted" sticker is really meant to stick. An hour later, the sticker, along with most of his eyebrow, was finally off his face. Of course, there was also the finger-stuck-in-the-CD-hole incident, and the time he cinched his Cub Scout belt so tight that there wasn't even a millimeter of "give" to uncinch it so he could get his pants down (this problem wasn't discovered until he needed to use the bathroom really bad). Ah, boys.

We had our final post-adoption visit with our social worker last week. In discussing Mira's health, development and personality in some detail, we were both struck again by how blessed and lucky we are. She is such a sunny, smart girl with so much light in her personality. Of course, we had hoped our daughter would be healthy, but we did expect some delays and health challenges in adopting from a famine-ridden third-world country. Besides three infections in her left ear (Dr. Kelly jokingly threatened to perform an ear-ectomy) she has been perfectly healthy.

Her very favorite playmate is Gracie, who plays "Fe Fi Fo Fum" with her every day. This game involves Mira sitting next to me on the floor, eyes wide with anticipation and trained on the door. Gracie comes stomping into the room yelling "Fe fi fo fum!" in a monster voice as Mira squeals and dives into my lap. And then it's all repeated, over and over.

We remember the grass huts in Ethiopia where Mira is from, with women grinding maize and cattle milling around children on the earthen floor, and it's so hard to reconcile that beginning with this baby, in her lavender painted room and Old Navy clothes. Amazing.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words. Or Just Three.

PICK ME UP
Mira's latest maneuver is to crawl over to me and bury her face in my feet until I pick her up. If I move from the spot, she crawls feebly over, much like a parched desert wanderer, and plants her face right back in my shoe.
This new tactic is both ingenious and disturbing. Ingenious because it's incredibly effective - how can I not pick her up when she's on my shoe? I regularly end up doing tasks like washing dishes and putting in my contacts one-handed.

It's disturbing because of the level of DRAMA it suggests. An image comes to mind...

Is it possible that I have two Gracies?

Below are a few recent (and less pathetic) photos of Madame Baby, which show:

1. Mira's four brand-spanking new teeth
2. How her hair came to smell like the stinky pet store the other day. (It's fine to grab your hair out on the lawn, as shown below. But when you're in your highchair and your hands are caked with ravioli, oatmeal and/or some other menu item, it's a bad idea)
3. Mira's propensity to exaggeration. Come on, there's no way the fish she caught was that big!
4. A good view of Fred's jowliness, from the back