Somehow in my exhausted daze of new parenthood, a year has passed . Every once in awhile it still hits me out of the blue: "Oh, shit! I'm a mom!" But at other times it's the most natural thing in the world. I remember in the early days when you first came home from the hospital. I was so freaked out to put you to bed at night and know that this LIVING BREATHING PERSON NEEDED ME TO LIVE and it was impossible to believe that I was up to the task and that you would, you know, even continue breathing through the night let alone things like walking, talking, going to school.
You have really filled out a bit in the last couple months of your first year. You have already had your sturdy little legs, arms, and hands, and these days you have acquired a little belly that pokes out. You are wearing many shirts that are sized for 18 months because they cover that belly. I love to blow raspberries on that belly.
Your hair is getting thicker and longer. It is still fine and thin like mine, though, and is in a constant state of disarray on the back of your head. (Oh, you are a mini Amie!) When I get you out of the bath with wet hair and your grind your head into the towel, your hair fluffs up like a dandelion.
You are turning into little independent person with very definite ideas about what she does and does not want (and, unfortunately, it rarely involves my affection). I have to steal most of my cuddles first thing in the morning or after you've already fallen asleep. Otherwise, you push and squirm away. Sometimes I plead with you, "Sophie, let mama hug you!" You pretend to walk toward me and, when I begin to reach for you, dart just out of my grasp, giggling.
You love books. I keep a stash of books for you hidden near the couch at all times. I was sad when I had to start hiding them, but you would intently try to consume them from beginning to end once you got teeth and could take chunks out of them. But at least once a day--generally in the evenings after our dinner and bath--I sit down on the couch and say, "Sophie, do you want to read books with mama?" as I pull some of them out. You make this joyful, fluttery noise with your tongue and come running, clambering for me to lift you onto the couch with me. Your favorite is a large picture book with colorful animal pictures. I point to them and tell you their names and then I imitate the sounds they make. There are many to learn and the pictures we read vary every day, but I always make sure that we identify cats, dogs, cows, and ducks. We practice moos and quacks every single day, and when I am mooing you are enthusiastically saying, "Mmmmmm!"
You love music and dancing. Most of your dance moves thus far involve squatting and then standing straight up, but you look so adorable doing it. Occasionally that diapered butt of yours sways from side to side, and it's all I can do to keep from bursting with love for you. This evening when you were interested in my laptop, I played two of our favorite music videos from "Yo Gabba Gabba!" and we danced, not touching, but side by side, and it was a really wonderful moment.
You go to bed between 8 and 9 pm every night. When I tuck you in, I cover you with your blanket and then hand you your little musical stuffed bee that mamaw got you for Christmas. He has a night-time setting, and he plays lullabyes and bathes your little face in a soft golden light. When he gets to the end of his songs, he cries, "Bye bye!" and shuts off. You push his button over and over until you fall asleep, and for the first time the other night I heard you respond to him with, "Bye bye!" And then you pushed his button again. Sometimes when I check on you later, you have fallen asleep on top of your bee or even with him covering your face, still playing songs.
Today you learned to clap your hands. I have been demonstrating it for you regularly for months. After I would help you turn a back flip off my lap (yes. what?) I would applaud enthusiastically and cry, "Yay Sophie!" You would beam with pride and jump up to do it again. When we finish listening to a song that we particularly like, I often burst into applause and you grin and groove. But today all of a sudden you decided to clap. Once you started you didn't stop. You clapped and clapped as if you'd been doing it forever.
Your birthday weekend was positively lovely. Your first birthday fell on a Sunday. Since your daddy had to work that day, we had a little family party for you the day before. Your nana drove up from San Jose and spent the day here, playing with you, giving you EVERY TOY UNDER THE SUN, and making your porcupine birthday cake.
Oh, the porcupine birthday cake. But that is another story for another day.
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Your brother arrived with a birthday gift for you as well as a small flower pot that he'd decorated himself and in which he'd planted a flower. ("I made one for me and one for Sophia," he informed me as he handed it over proudly. And later that night when we went outside to water the flower along with the small pots of seeds I'd planted he asked, "Is it growing yet?")
We all had dinner together and sang to you (much to your bewilderment) and had cake and ice cream. Darius spent the night, and for the rest of the evening the two of you happily played with your new toys, chased the party balloons, and watched cartoons together.
The next morning the two of you had breakfast in bed together.
I packed us a little picnic, and in the afternoon my friend Charra and her girlfriend Summer picked us up and we went to the park. You loved eating cheese and crackers because you could eat them on the move. And you never stopped moving! The three adults of the party took turns on baby following/patrol duty. At one point I cleaned off your face with a pack of travel wipes. You have a particular fondness for carrying around packs of wipes, and you grabbed in and returned to roaming. We met a 14 month old little girl who was thrilled when you walked right up to her and examined her. She wanted to make friends. You were content to thoughtfully nibble on the edge of the wipes packet and then move on.
In the days since your birthday you have been exploring your new toys. Daddy and I got you a rocking horse that I couldn't resist giving you when it arrived a week early.
You love the horsey, but you have very little interest in actually sitting on him (full disclosure: I put you on the horse in the above picture and afterward you immediately wanted down). What you really like to do is grab onto one of his plastic bars across the front or the back and drag him behind you, grunting the whole time, like some sort of logger.
Nana got you this noisy little pink car. It has many buttons and levers and horns and switches and one of them makes it demand to know if we are ready for a pink, pink, PINK ADVENTURE.
You love the car. But you don't want to ride or sit on it (same full disclosure applies to this picture, too. sigh). Instead, you seem to prefer it for it's storage capacity (the seat lifts up and reveals a little cubby) as well as your ability to grab it by the back handle and ram it repeatedly into Freddy's dome-shaped litter box.
You are learning how to be naughty. You have the entire living room and dining room to roam, but the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom and barricaded off in various ways unless you are accompanied. When you think I'm not paying attention, you slip over to the playpen blocking the hallway that leads to the kitchen and start slowly sliding it across the tile floor. When I give a warning, "Sophie...." you stop and giggle and run away. Then you go back to waving your butterfly push-toy on a stick like a small, avenging angel and trotting around.
It's been quite a first year, my girl. I couldn't love you any more than I do.
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Love,
Mama
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