I was definitely on a roll, in terms of blogging recently, but the previous post might explain the week of silence. Sigh. Little R has not been a happy camper, and it doesn't look to be a fleeting phase or a passing illness (am I terrible mom for almost hoping she'd get sick and then turn back into a happy baby again?). She's also suddenly resisting naps and waking up at all hours of the night.

What I've read about one year olds is that it's pretty common for them to get separation anxiety about now and--here's the best part--it's not unheard of for this phase to last until eighteen months. Hmmm. More than half a year of this clinging and wailing and tantrum-throwing. Interesting.

It seems the best way to deal with separation anxiety is to give the baby as much reassurance as possible. Lots of holding and cuddling and eye contact. I think if you try to force a baby to confront his or her fear of being alone, you're only going to end up with a little octopus suction-sealed to your chest whenever the two of you are together. After all, a one year old really is still very much a baby and *shouldn't* be independent yet.

Except that my arm sometimes feels like it's about to fall off because she wants me to hold her in my arms, not my Beco baby carrier. And there are certain things that you just cannot do--or, I at least am too stupid to do--one-armed.

And when, inevitably, I have to set the baby down--to change her diaper or clothes, for example--there's so much yelling and screaming, I'm really terrified my neighbor is going to call Child Services on me.

This makes for a long, tiring day. I was just emailing a friend that I've stumbled upon a new and very effective weight-loss strategy: the too-tired-to-eat diet. I've actually gone to bed two nights in a row now with my empty stomach protesting most vehemently and yet with no trouble falling asleep.

So what this meandering post is is an advanced apology if things suddenly go very silent on this blog. Check back in eight months. Oh god.