Sunday Morning

We've had a trying weekend. Stephen's parents are visiting and Ada has been in rare form. We can't figure out if she's teething or just plain cranky. I'm thinking it's the latter. What we do know is that she's formed a superglue-strong attachment to me. It makes perfect sense. I'm with her almost 24 hours a day. It's to the point, though, where she freaks out if I'm away for more than an hour. Hyperventilates almost.

So, we ran a race Saturday morning. I woke up and fed Ada (who is increasingly distracted these days -- it took forever), fed myself, pumped for when I'd be away, got ready, fed Ada again. Raced. Then came home only to find a distraught baby who wanted to eat i.m.m.e.d.i.a.t.e.l.y. She used to take the bottle like a champ. I blame us, because we haven't given her one in a while, but now she doesn't just reject them, she seems completely and utterly insulted that we'd even think to give her one.

I need a break, little girl. I know you love me. I love you, too. But we need to work on this being-apart thing.