More of a Drunken Stagger
That "walking" Olivia was purported by the optimistic ladies at daycare to be doing does not, to my mind, qualify. But it sure is charming. I mean, there's nothing quite as heartwarming as an eleven-month-old who thinks she can walk, but actually resembles Nicolas Cage in the after-bar scene in Valley Girl: directionless, uncontrolled, shitfaced staggering. At least she does it with a delighted screech instead of a puke.
More...well, more someday. Our current level of overwhelm is reaching new heights and/or depths, what with the commuting, working, househunting, parenting, elder-caring, morning sickness and it being tax time. (Our taxes are, let's see, complex would be a laughable understatement. Self-employed husband, home office, stock options, new dependent, etc., etc., etc. And to further exacerbate our tax-time woes, we're also official employers of one fantastic part-time Tanzanian nanny, whose legal right to work in the US was finally printed on government paper this January 1st but whose payrolling began, erm, somewhat before then.