My Mother, Mamo, was the first of our family to meet Addison when she was just seven days old.  Within minutes of meeting her Mom commented that Addison was going to be into everything when she was mobile.  Even when she was brand new Addison was never a passive baby.  She was always involved in what was going on around her; studying faces, objects.  So yes, she was inquisitive but mobility was the furthest thought from my mind.  I was sitting there in my sweat pants, hopped up on pain meds with a tiny baby who couldn’t hold her head up, who didn’t know night from day and who was causing me some serious sleep deprivation.  All I could think about was when I was going to be able to take a nap and a shower.  In that order.

Now, 8 short months later I have a very mobile baby who stops only long enough to sleep and recharge her batteries so she has enough energy to tear through the house all over again.  This isn’t a problem, really.  I recognize that it’s my job to follow her around all day and keep her safe.  The problem is that she has no fear.  She isn’t afraid of anything.  Plus she’s an irrational little being and I can’t make her understand that she’s a danger to herself.

One day, shortly after Addison started crawling, I was reading to her in the middle of our big king sized bed.  She was bored of the book and started moving around the bed.   I wanted to see what she would do.  As she made her way to the edge of the bed I wondered if her survival instincts would kick in and stop her from going over the edge.  Her fingers grasped the edge of the mattress and she pulled herself forward, peering over the side to the floor below.  She looked back at me, smiled, and propelled herself forward off the bed without a second thought.  I was there to grab her, of course, but from that moment I knew that Addison would try just about anything.

When she doesn’t feel like getting her diaper changed she’ll try to flip herself off of the changing table.  Done with her bottle?  She dives off of the couch.  It is nothing short of a miracle that she’s never had a bad fall and really hurt herself.  And now that she’s stading, she’s trying to climb everything.  I’m worried.  For us and for her.  I didn’t expect such a physical baby.  And I certainly didn’t expect it so soon.    I can’t quite put my finger on why.  Because she’s my daughter and I was careful to a fault as a child?  Clumsy, but careful.   Because she’s a girl, maybe?  I suppose I had this vision in my head of my little girl sitting on the floor in a dress, playing with a doll.  I’m not saying that’s what I wanted, it’s just what I expected.  How unfair!  I hate that the thought ever crossed my mind and I realize now how suppressing that expectation is.  She can jump and tumble all she wants.  I just hope I’m always there to catch her.