First word

On Sept. 25, 2012, you said "mama"!

I knew it was coming, as you'd recently started working the "ma....." sound into your babbling.  But, oh, to hear the word!

You were playing in your little papasan-type chair next to your daddy and I as we were finishing dinner.  You chattered away, and all of a sudden there it was.

Mama.

I was so excited and sent a flurry of text messages to our friends and family.  Sophie said mama!  You smiled, not knowing what the fuss was about, and continued to play and chatter away.  And since then you've been saying it more purposefully.

Yesterday when I was unpacking in the dining room, you were playing with the packing materials on the floor beside me when I walked into the kitchen to put something away.  Immediately you were crawling after me, your hands frantically slapping at the tile in your haste, as you called after me, "mamamamama!"

The most precious words I've ever heard.  I'm such a sap for you!

Oh, who am I kidding?  I was already.

The baby in the mirror

Dear Frijole,

You've gotten to be an excellent (and rather funny) little crawler and you couldn't be cuter. The look of pleasure and curiousity on your face as you set out on an exploration around the house is contagious.

Two nights ago you were happily exploring our bedroom. You eagerly rounded the corner of the doorway to have a look at the hall when you came face to face  with your reflection in the floor-length mirror. You screamed.  I had been sitting on the bed watching you and at your scream my body jerked forward and was instantly behind you, reaching down to pick you up. At my sudden appearance in the mirror you screamed again and the look of horror on your face as you gazed bug-eyed at it was unmistakable.

My poor girl.

I was afraid at the time that I had just witnessed the formation of some crazy mirror phobia. But I am pleased to report that since then you bravely approached the mirror again and the two of you have made an uneasy peace.

Care and feeding

For several days now, you have been eating solid foods.  Feeding you has been interesting.  I have learned several things.  For instance, you are a far cleaner child after eating without a bib than you are with a bib. This is because in between each and every single bite you would insist on cramming the entire bib--until it nearly choked you--into your mouth.  That means that in between each and every single bite I had to extract the bib from your mouth.  Thus, within two bites both sides of the bib was covered front and back completely with whatever you were eating and drool and well, yuck.  But you were obsessed with that bib--you would not leave it alone!  Finally I just ditched it all together.

For your very first meal, I fed you some baby oatmeal.  You weren't sure about the first couple of bites, but by the third you had grabbed for both the bowl and the spoon I was using and tried to shove them in their entirety in your mouth.  I was jazzed.

You were quickly bored with oatmeal, and since it took a few days for our Baby Bullet to arrive and because 98% of our kitchen stuff is still in storage, I cooked and then pureed all your food by hand.  Really it wasn't too bad except for the butternut squash.  Yikes.

You love to eat!  We've had to experiment a bit to figure out our scheduling and seating arrangement and all that, but today I felt like we were starting to hit our stride.  You ate three big meals enthusiastically, and so far carrots, squash, and sweet potatoes are your favorite.  With the exception of letting you suck on my apple slices, I've purposefully delayed the fruit a bit.  Tomorrow we will try both bananas and peas for the first time. 

I actually love making your food.  I love knowing exactly what you are eating and how carefully it was prepared.  I love the organizing and the labeling and the planning.  And it is gratifying to see you waiting with your mouth open like a hungry baby bird.  I know it won't always be this easy to get you to eat vegetables, but for now I am enjoying it while I can.

Your grandma actually got very nervous when I told her about cooking your food.  *Her* kids ate jarred baby food, and she argued that, "There's a lot of additives in those jars that she wouldn't get otherwise."  (Exactly!  Ahem.)  I think she thinks it's some hippy, granola-eater thing I picked up in San Francisco.

Six Months

Dear Frijole,

You, my big old baby girl, turned 6 months old today.

We moved from San Francisco to Concord in mid-August when you were turning five months old.  Then the changes in you from 5-6 months blew me away.  About five minutes after you learned to crawl you learned to push yourself into a standing position.  And then you learned to sit up.  We have begun baby sign language, and you've now begun solid foods.

Overnight you became so fiercely independent!

When you were around 3 1/2 to 4 months old, I began holding you up in a standing position on my chest.  Soon "standing" became your favorite thing to do, and you've never looked back.  You've gotten quite interested in climbing, and from what I can tell you show no sense of self-preservation.  You are eager to fling yourself from any high point.

I can see hints of me in you.  In flashes of your facial expressions.  In your shyness and uncertainty around new people.  In those situations you prefer to stand back and watch, taking it all in quietly.  How well I know that feeling.

One person who endlessly fascinates you is your big brother, Darius.  When he is visiting I can barely get you to focus long enough to eat, because you are so interested in what he is up to.  Even if it is really nothing at all.

As you have gotten more interactive, he has come to really enjoy playing with you, too.  He bodyslams your animals in front of you and holds them just out of your reach, and you don't quite know what to make of all that.

Right at this moment you are the perfect baby.  You sleep all night.  You smile almost all day.  You are good at playing quietly and intently with your toys for long periods of time.  If only you wanted more of my hugs and didn't push me away every time I try to snuggle you like a baby.

You fight fiercely to let me know you are a BIG GIRL, even though you don't have the words for it yet.  I can already hear them.

And that is how I know I am one of THOSE MOMS.  One of those moms I never quite understood before I became one.  And I vowed not to be one!  One of those moms who mourns continuously as her children get older because they are closer and closer to the day they will leave.

I love you so hard!  And it's a beautiful, powerful, benevolent love unlike any I've ever known.  It's corny, but loving you, and gazing at your chubby, sturdy little limbs bent in sleep and clipping your tiny little razor blade nails has been more soothing to the part of me that was hurting for so long than I ever thought possible.

I got behind in my letters to you, but that's because I have been busy being your mama, with getting our family into a better home, and with living day-to-day with chronic pain.  I am working on resolving that issue so that I can be a much more fun mama for you.  As it is I practically fall down from exhaustion after I put you to bed.

But we have a lot of laughs.

Love,

Mama

Mama talk

Scene: I have just given you your evening bath. You are laying across my bed as I rub Baby Magic on you and your father watches.

Mama: Sophie! What's wrong?  Why are you crying? What you just had some people would pay good money for! A warm bath, a shampoozle, a pee-bird wash, and now lotions...

Papa: Wait. Did you say "shampoozle"?

Mama: Yes.

Papa: Nice. And "pee-bird wash"?