I've fallen and I can't get up

It turns out that several months of intermittent posting comes with a fair amount of collateral inertia to overcome, both comment-wise and future posting wise. I am clawing out, y'all. Give me a moment.
There are things though that I have to get down, and because this blog acts as my de facto baby book, I feel a fair amount of pressure (from myself) to get these things written...

Like how the boy likes to jump out of bed every morning and put on my slippers, and how he's gotten quite proficient at shambling all the way into the kitchen with them on his feet.

Or how he's got a mouthful of cavities from all that good-for-you nursing we've been doing ever since I got the ol' boobs working right. Great. So now we may be looking at weaning sooner than we had planned AND general anesthesia so he can get his cavities filled.

And how he is so smart he seems to show us something new every day. He earned all by himself to help me feed the dogs (he runs to the bin we keep the kibble in, takes down the bowls, and launches himself head-first into the kibble bin to take out one tiny handful at a time, which he then painstakingly allocates among the three bowls.)

And how he taught himself to say bye-bye with a wave (something I am not aware of ever having encouraged him to do)-- only, he lifts up his arms and clenches and unclenches his fist, saying, "Die, die!" Maybe he's got a sick little sense of humor.

Or the tantrums. The way he launches himself over backwards toward the floor at any hint of some unwanted action-- coat on, coat off, time to get up, time to get down, time to go out, time to come in... you get the idea.

And how, if he really loves something, he lets it go...literally, by shoving it through the cat door at the top of the basement stairs and listening for it thump-thump-thumping its way to the bottom. There is also, thanks to the fact that we removed a wall with a radiator, a 3/4-inch hole that goes directly through our living room floor to the basement, which is where he disappears his sidewalk chalk, drumsticks, and our pens, nail clippers and other small objects. Whenever anything goes missing, the first question is, "did you check the hole?"

...And the way he refuses to eat unless we give him his own fork-- the fierce independence he has already cultivated at 13 months. I could-- and will-- go on. How he's picking up signs despite our inconsistency in using them.

But the point is, I need to exercise more consistency. That my hiatus should not be a step toward disappearance. Because I love this community and I want it back. Sorry. Again. I am still here. And I am cioming back.