I have to brag about you for a moment. For the past two days you have been exceptionally good and I want to tell you about it.
On Friday, you and I had a long day of appointments to go to together. We were in and out of taxi cabs all day. There were waiting rooms and paperwork to fill out and long boring conversations to have. There were screaming, cranky children and even a trip to your pediatrician for vaccinations. You were calm and Zen-like through it all. You never complained. You quietly watched and observed. You played with your toys. You looked politely interested whenever adults or other children came over to talk to you. You napped in my arms. There were some brief tears when you got your shots, but soon you were smiling for your doctor and examining yourself in the mirror.
Waiting on our taxi
At the doctor's office
I was so proud of you.
Yesterday, Saturday, me and you and your daddy had a lovely day together. We had gotten some good news and were feeling some relief and happiness after all the stress. We all snuggled in bed together, and he and I took turns tickling you and tugging on your feet and blowing raspberries on your belly. You LOVE when we are both lavishing attention on you at once, and you were joyful and feisty. After we finished the laundry we all took a walk to have dinner at a local Afghan restaurant we've been dying to try. We haven't eaten at a restaurant in months and months and it was such a treat! You sat like a big girl in one of their clunky wooden high-chairs and examined your surroundings. You happily ate grilled lamb and chicken; flatbread stuffed with leeks, potatoes, and herbs; fresh spinach leaves and tomato; cucumber & yogurt sauce; warm pitas; and basmati rice. On the walk home you napped in your stroller, and then we spent the evening together.
Waiting for our food
After dinner nap
I assume there are tantrums and loud exclamations of "NO!" on the horizon. I assume there will be whining because it's taking too long and you're bored or you didn't get something you wanted. I am trying to enjoy these moments as they come.
You've always had eyes shaped like mine, but in recent weeks it's become apparent you have the colors of them, too. The strange two-toned eyes that change with the light.
I always loved brown eyes and longed to have deep, dark ones. And I would have been happy for you to have inherited your daddy's eyes.
But you have mine. And it's something I still can't get over: looking into my own eyes.
(Does that sound narcissistic? Do I even know how to spell that?)
Today your daddy and I are under ridiculous amounts of financial stress and it's feeling incredibly difficult for me to stay calm. I have endless phone calls to make as well as jobs to search and apply for, and I have to make a very concentrated effort to remain in the here and now with you as much as possible.
Your morning nap today was in my arms, against my chest. It has been in the upper 20s and lower 30s here in Concord a lot lately, and it's been a long time since I've been this cold. You were wearing thick, soft, fleecy, red, footed pajamas bought for you by your Nana. They are 9 month size and won't fit you much longer. You felt so warm and snuggly, and your silky hair still smelled like baby shampoo from last night's bath. You only slept a half hour but I hugged you the entire time. For that half hour, I felt a little less anxious and afraid.
Yams are one of your very favorite foots. This morning before he got ready for work, your daddy rode his bike to the store to buy you yams, bananas, and avocados, and when he returned I baked a yam for your lunch. In the last few days, you have learned how to imitate me saying, "Mmmmm!" and after every single bite you happily said, "Mmm!" and opened your little mouth for another bite.
My friend B. told me that she had given her first daughter a box of tissues to demolish for a first Christmas or birthday--I can't recall which. This afternoon I gave you a small, page-a-day desktop calendar that I got for Christmas. At one point I thought I might read some of the quotations on the pages, but instead I elected to allow you to demolish it. I had hopes it might buy me 10 (how did I ever dare think 15?) minutes in which to eat something instead of the usual one bite of food I manage to get on occasion. [On a positive note, I've lost 76 lbs in the last 10 months since your birth.] You were thrilled to receive the calendar and it commanded your intention immediately. You spent 2-3 minutes turning it over and examining it and testing it with your mouth. Then you put it down, tore off the paper cover, and began eating it bite by bite while happily watching "Olive the Ostrich" on the Sprout Channel. Thus, said desktop calendar gift was revoked. You didn't even get past January 1. Maybe I'll read a few of those quotes after all.
Later this afternoon we will take a walk on the paved trail next to our house. You are normally peaceful and quiet while we take walks and I hope that you will be today. Yesterday you kicked off your socks and blanket repeatedly and ripped off your hat only 1/4 of the way into our route. You spent the entire time wiggling and fidgeting and twisting, but you didn't cry.
For dinner I will feed you vegetable soup that you love. I have been making very small pots of soup regularly--full of beans and lentils and veggies--and you really devour it. I put small pieces of broccoli, carrot, peas, beans, and sweet potatoes on the tray of your high chair for you to feed yourself, and then I feed you spoonfuls of broth, onions, and bits of garlic. It is a pleasure to watch you dig in with gusto.
Today, "Yo Gabba Gabba," one of your very favorite shows that I have really come to appreciate, played my favorite music video: "Lovely, Love My Family" by the Roots. I stopped what I was doing to watch and listen, and immediately my eyes welled up as they every time it comes on. I just can't believe there is such a sensitive and bittersweet song on a kids' show, and the second verse makes me long to curl up in my grandpa's arms in a way that is nearly unbearable.
All we need, all we need. All we need. Spread the love around, yeah
Sometimes when I am sitting by myself Those quiet moments when not with no one else I’m mesmerized by all the many good things in my life I think about the time when I was younger And the older that I get the more that I feel wiser With the love of friends and family Get stronger and it carries me on through
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Sometimes when I am waiting for the bus The sun shines bright and I feel peace like nowhere else I know I'm in good health and life keeps going, I keep moving, I’m alright I go to school and educate my mind, and the way the world is spinning makes me want to turn around and start all over, hit the reset and go back in time.
Oh baby love me Oh spread the love around, yeah
So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family So I say lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely lovely love, love my family
Today is one of your father's days off, and we all three spent the morning together in our pajamas eating leftover roast chicken and macaroni and cheese.
You have been really fighting your naps lately, so sometimes you don't fall asleep until you absolutely collapse. Today you nodded off mid-bite of macaroni and cheese.
At one point today, when the parrots were squawking and the cat was meowing and you were chattering as you tottered after him, trying to bodyslam him, your dad looked at me and said, "Is something coming? I feel like this is the beginning of an 80s catastrophe movie."
You've recovered from the worst of your cold, but you have a lingering stuffy nose. Today when we aspirated your nose, your father held you in his arms and restrained your arms and cried, "She's on lock-down! She's on lock-down!" while I moved in with the sucker thingy. You screamed and screamed and screamed. It's so hard to keep you still during those times that I am petrified you are going to jerk your head when I have that tube up your nose and that it will jam into your brain and I will have to feed you soft foods forever.
Today I am wearing fluorescent green Crocs around the house, and you love to try to chew on them.
Today I gave two big boxes of your six-month sized baby clothes to a young couple with a baby who responded to my ad on the Berkeley Parents' Network list-serve. It's very emotional for me to give your clothes away. I keep a few of my favorite things stashed away.
Just this morning I was invited to interview for a job here in Concord, and I'm really excited. Now I'm working on getting some child-care established for you. To begin with, we'll focus on just an occasional person whom I can rely on to come over during short-term things, such as this upcoming job interview.
Today one of your favorite "toys" is a tube of my body cream and you've been carrying it all around the house.
As of today, your walking has progressed quite a bit. You don't get further than about a dozen steps at a time, but they are often extremely active steps with lots of standing, bending down to pick things up, turning around, and carrying large stuffed animals involved. You look so proud of yourself as you're cruising along, and you like to walk past the full-length mirrored closet doors in the hallway watching yourself walking and waveing your arms and toys up and down excitedly as you chatter and smile.
Today you started a game of peek-a-boo with me. It's only the second time you've done that, although you've enjoyed watching me hiding and pursing out with dramatic squeals for quite some time now. You had just finished drinking a bottle and were snuggled up with your lavender fuzzy blanket on the couch beside me. I was talking to you and after you hid your face and then gently lowered the blanket and grinned at me, I cried, "Peek-a-boo!" in a high-pitched squeal and you loved it. You are the sweetest peek-a-boo player maybe ever--you do it so shyly!
For the past few days, you have had your first cold. I blame your snot-nosed, booger-eating cousin, Lucas, from Christmas Day. Anyway, it's no fun. Especially using the sucker thing ("aspirator" sounds so stuffy) on your nose. My god, you fight me as if your very life is on the line when I try to use that thing on you. And you now eye me suspiciously whenever I try to get you to lean back.
In trying to take the best care of you I could possibly take, as soon as I noticed your stuffy nose I jumped into action. I let you have a couple nibbles of grapefruit for vitamin C. I made a small pot of homemade chicken noodle soup and added a little fresh lemon and ginger. Now I think the citrus has given you a terrible diaper rash that we've been trying to clear up.
Blargh.
To make it up to you, I've been trying to amuse you as much as possible when you feel like playing.
(Cool Whip painting on New Year's Eve)
(Tearing up the extra Christmas bows on New Year's Day)
As part of our diaper rash treatment, I have been giving you some "non-dipey" time (part of this weird mommy language I have adopted) several times a day. It's helped a lot, and we've only ended up with a couple of puddles when I didn't time it well. On New Year's Eve I took off your diaper and you crawled away excitedly when you saw Dora the Explorer pop up on the television. You stood up to watch her and immediately began to pee. The unfamiliar noise of liquid dripping into a puddle at your feet caught your attention, and you leaned over to watch. My heart swelled with love for you at that moment.
And now I get it. I get why women want to have another child. After enduring pregnancy and childbirth and the first four months of your life, I SWORE that I couldn't even fathom it. And most of me still can't. Those are the parts of me with good sense. But there is a deep and primal yearning in me that has just begun to hit full force in the last couple of weeks...
I know! I know! You will not be having a brother or sister, believe me.
But on December 19 at 4:45 p.m., you took your first step. You are now up to as many as 8-10 consecutive steps at a time. I clap and cheer for you as you grin with pride, but deep inside something in me is screaming, Slow down! And as you are learning to walk I panic at the knowledge that I will never again have my tiny baby girl. You are no longer an infant; you are a toddler. While I have no choice but to go along, I am not ready.
Today you tried watermelon for the first time, and you loved it. I could only place one small piece on your high chair tray at a time; otherwise, you'd pick them all up one after the other and shove them in your mouth at once. Watermelon juice ran down your chin and you practiced chewing with your five (very nearly six!) teeth.
Today, like always, you took took your socks off almost immediately after I put them on.
Today you are fussy and moody because of that nearly sixth tooth. Your right front tooth. You hate when I apply Orajel to your teeth and gums, but it soothes you almost immediately. As soon as you see me pull the tube out you begin to lick your lips and make a face.
Today you crawled head-first into one of your favorite blankies and then started to roll like an alligator. When the blanket was wrapped snugly around your head many times and you couldn't get it off, you began to cry and I had to rescue you.
Today your favorite game is covering your head with the aforementioned blanket and trying to crawl, stand up, and walk around without being able to see. So far you have only had minor bumps and tumbles, but this game terrifies me.
Today you chanted "mama, mama, mama, mamamamamama" as I changed your diaper.
Today in honor of your mood I will read you one of your new books: The Grouchy Ladybug. Ladybug (or Sophie Bug) is my nickname for you.
Today a package arrived from Target. It is filled with shirts and tunics I ordered for you in 12 month and 18 month sizes that were on clearance. As I type this, you are sitting next to me on the floor, watching the Sprout channel, and tearing open the plastic around the shirts with your teeth.
Today there was a school shooting in Connecticut, and 20 elementary school kids were shot in their classroom. I had to turn off the news because all I can do is cry and hug you. I'm scared to ever let you out of my sight.
As I write this, you are 8 1/2 months old. You've now been out of me longer than you were in me.
You have five teeth at various stages of coming in. You love avocados, hummus, cheese, yogurt, and yams. You love to dance, and you and your father are the only people in the entire world who like the sound of my singing. "Yo Gabba Gabba" and "Dora the Explorer" get you excited, and you lick the TV screen to show your appreciation of the characters you like best. When you take a bath in the evenings you love to play with your pink rubber duck. Always as we are finishing your bath, we say goodbye to Duckie and he quacks and "kisses" you on the cheeks and nose and your smile gets so huge. Sometimes you murmur "mama" in your sleep and it does something in my chest that I can't quite describe.
Some of my favorite moments of the day come when you wake up. You sit up with blanket marks on your face and sleepily rub your eyes. You'll play quietly with your animals for a few minutes: touching them, patting them, biting them, burying your face in them. When you notice me watching you, you break into a grin and eagerly stand up in your crib to reach for me. I hug and nuzzle you and take in your baby smell. I could pick you out of hundreds of babies just by smelling you.
You are--many times over--the most beautiful thing in my world. I can barely believe that I am lucky enough to have such a beautiful, sweet, playful, inquisitive little girl to love. The responsibility of guiding you into becoming a confident, courageous, compassionate young woman is a daunting one, but one that I take very seriously.
I can't look at newborn pictures of you without weeping, because every day takes you further away from being my tiny baby. It is bittersweet to be leaving your babyhood behind, but it is amazing to watch you learn and grow and change. You are my greatest joy.
