Wordless

It happens more often than I'd like that I sit down here, and open this window, and nothing comes out.

It's not that I have nothing to say, it's just that I've said it before. The kids are adorable and clever; my job is utterly devoid of personal satisfaction or any sense of accomplishment; my house is cluttered and it's making me crazy; I continue to be shocked and dismayed by my body's betrayals despite my years of abuse and the warnings of generations; my social life is either nonexistent or so hectic I wish it was nonexistent.

All of which makes my life sound rather on the bleak side, adorable and clever kids notwithstanding.

...It occurs to me that maybe I'm on the downward spiral for another bout of PMS. The last one hit right after Christmas, so the timing works out. (Yes, I have an appointment to talk to my doctor about this. I've had down spells before, but this monthly dump into The Land Of Worm-Eating Depression for most of a week is intolerable. And I suspect my family and friends aren't enjoying it all that much, either.)

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Okay, an effort to brighten things up: Adorable and clever kid time!

So far, I've been entirely wrong in all my estimates for Alex. He rolled over later than I thought, he crawled later than I thought, he started walking later than I thought... it is any wonder that I'm wrong about him talking, too? Given his babbling, I thought for certain that he'd be talking earlier than Penny did -- and there's still a little time for that, since she didn't talk until 15 months, but I'm not seeing it right now.

Which is not to say he doesn't understand anything. There are definitely a few words he's got down pat. If you say, "Alex, where's Mommy?" he'll twist around to find me. He usually will look for "Daddy," too. If you prompt him to find "Hippo," he'll toddle over to wherever he left Hippo, and pick it up.

And "book." Alex loves his books, and he definitely knows the word. Last night, he was sitting on my lap and he pointed at the book shelf and made some noise. "Yes, those are books," I said encouragingly. "It's just about time for a bedtime book. You want to get a book, Alex? Go get a book and bring it to Mommy?"

And damned if he didn't slide off my lap, wobble across the room, pick up a board book, and wobble back to me to put the book firmly in my hands.