INTENSE

If there is one word for my precious pumpkin it is INTENSE. Everything she does is with gusto. In her world, everything is extremely wonderful or the WORST THING EVER. Our doctor said some babies don't like being babies, and I believe that's true of Annalise. I wish for her sake that her giant spirit wasn't smushed into such a small immobile body that she can't control. She is busting at the seams to crawl, to run, to be independent and do what she wants.

She can not be distracted once she wants something.

She can not be happy unless she gets what she wants.

She refuses to cuddle.

She refuses to be contained or restrained. If I even try to hold just her hand still to clip her nails she waves every appendage wildly and indignantly.

She cries in frustration if she is not being stimulated nearly constantly.

She hates nursing and drinks just enough sips to stay alive (think about 20 seconds-worth, arms flailing and body flinging itself the whole time) before she screeches and shoves me violently away in favor of exploring whatever it was she was doing before I trapped her and tried to help her avoid starvation to begin with.

She wants nothing to do with solids. (I don't know how she keeps her weight up. Probably from all the night-nursing.)

She wants nothing to do with waking less than five times a night.

She knows if she really cries I'll pick her up immediately but if she just fusses I might make her wait, so now she looks directly at me and lets out one extremely shrill SCREAM and then silently raises her arms and looks at me expectantly. Once she is picked up she must be entertained though, or she will squirm madly and yell at you for it.

She loves her daily vitamins.

She loves bottles full of water.

She loves her dad.

She loves other babies.

She loves binkies.

She loves her toys and dollies.

She loves her walker. (Evidenced here:)

She is either brilliant or has an astoundingly early onset case of ADHD. She is so entirely scrumptious and loveable that it's killing me.