That's what Abby calls this:
Blowing bubbles. As if it's not adorable enough to simply watch her cherub lips pucker up to blow the delicate seedlings out into the wind.
I try not to focus on the fact that she's helping the worst kind of weed to further invade our lawn. It really is a silly concern to have, anyway, when our lawn is about 70% weed to begin with.
And I would have loved to have taken more pictures, but my camera battery chose a moment not too long after that picture was taken to die.
It's just as well, as I haven't much time or energy to spare now for photo editing and posting. Mia's been having one of her worst nights, yet (we're talking nearly three hours straight of various attempts at soothing before finally getting her to sleep, punctuated by frequent spit-up sessions), and I've a sinking feeling that it has a lot to do with that milkshake that I unwisely drank with my lunch this afternoon.
I've been considering cutting out dairy for days and was holding off until Tom had the time to pick up some milk substitutes from the store. In the meantime, it should have occurred to me to try to cut down as much as possible, but I just haven't been thinking much about the dietary choices I've been making (beyond avoiding citrus, which seems to be a definite problem for Mia), since I haven't yet made the commitment to change.
The one good thing I can say about having gone through such an experience is that it will grant me motivation to stick to my guns. I found that one of the hardest things about giving up dairy for three weeks when I was breastfeeding Michael was that I was never sure whether it was doing any good in the end. I don't suppose I'll be completely sure in Mia's case, either, not for the first week or so, but the correlation between Mia's distress this evening and my food choices today seems far too strong to ignore.
I hope to bear my sacrifice with much more grace this time, fully cognizant of the great benefit it may potentially bestow upon my tiny daughter.
Still, after seeing her suffer so, I can't help thinking: shame on me for not finding the courage sooner.