Dear Dina,

Look at that little cheese face! My little ham! You’ve figured out how to pose for the camera in recent weeks, and you’ve totally perfected that goofy-toothy little grin. It’s all about those bottom teeth and I love it.

Perhaps you noticed I called you “Dina” in my salutation. It’s pronounced “Dee-na,” and you invited that nickname on yourself with your recent emphatic repeated proclamations of words including that sound, such as “Dina,” “Dadina,” Dih-dih-dih,” and “Diana.” You were particularly enamored with your discovery of that last syllable combination and repeated it ad nauseum for a good week or more. It has since been replaced with “Isaiah,” leading us to believe you’re either trying to name your future siblings, or you are secretly reading the bible by the light of your crib aquarium. What’s next? Deuteronomy? Or maybe just some geography. This week’s happy syllable accident landed you on the word “Iowa.” You said that one several times before throwing in a few more “Isaiahs.” So I guess your first 5 words are as follows: Dada, “et” (cat), Mama, Diana, and Isaiah. Um. What are the chances that, of all the random pairings of possible sounds in human speech, you would spontaneously produce three unfamiliar proper nouns? It’s a little freaky.

And even when it’s not as recognizable as actual language, you are talking up a storm. You babble your day away with all kinds of inflections, gesticulations, and facial expressions. You copy me when I say “aye yay yay.” When I bring you into my room in the early morning, you look out the window and greet the sun by name by saying “dn.” You have recently figured out how to tell us off when you’re mad, and it spews forth in a dramatic “dih-dih-dih-dih!” while you cry and look at us angrily. The first time you did it, I had to cup my hand over my mouth and turn away to keep from laughing out loud at your dramatic little display of independence. We are well on our way down the road to toddlerhood already.

Speaking of toddling, walking will likely be any day now for you. You are easily balancing in the standing position for 10-15 seconds at a time, and you’re now cruising the furniture like a speed demon. You just discovered the ability to march in place and you do it every time you hear music. You love holding our hands and walking across the room, and you’ve even started to climb! One recent morning, daddy set you down next to the open ottoman and stumbled bleary-eyed back to his computer. After a few minutes of you playing by yourself, he looked over to check on you because you had gotten quiet. There you were, smiling back at him, from *inside* the ottoman. You were sitting up amidst all the stuffed animals inside, just as happy as could be. That ottoman is chest-high on you, and he could not possibly fathom how you got in there, at least in an upright position. Since then, you have divulged your technique, and it basically involves throwing your leg over your shoulder, pulling yourself up with your arms, and diving headfirst into the bin, pressing your forehead against the rim to keep you from completely flipping upside-down. You use your forehead like another appendage. You can also climb out onto the other ottoman, complete with a little gymnast’s dismount onto the rug. How can this be?! You were barely on your feet a month ago!

You are turning out to have a great sense of humor. One day, I left you in your room and went over to mine to get dressed. As soon as I got one leg into my pants, I heard you shrieking with laughter. I peeked around the corner and saw that, in your attempt to trash your room by throwing all of the clothes out of a basket, you discovered the cat was burrowed down at the bottom. You thought this was just about the funniest thing ever and could not stop cracking up. You think it’s endlessly hilarious to bonk your daddy in the head with various found objects (and why he continues to encourage this, I’ll never understand). You love chasing us around the living room as we crawl away in mock horror, and when you catch us, you pounce on top of us, shrieking with giggles as we cry “Oh, nooo!” You even seem to have a sense of humor about yourself. You were being particularly whiny one morning while Nana was here, and I recorded your crying on my iPhone. When I played it back to you, you looked puzzled for a moment, and then you laughed at the sound of your own voice. The more we played it, the funnier you thought it was. It completely snapped you out of your mood.

You’re also starting to really want to make others laugh, too. You are no longer fearful when new people come to visit, and you instead turn on the charm.  You shriek and blow raspberries and clap (a new skill this month!) and generally clown until you find the precise combination of silliness that makes each person smile. Then you do it over and over again. You’ve started doing a call-and-response type of communicating with other babies, and you get excited when they smile or laugh back at you. You also love our reaction when you give us kisses (i.e. open-mouthed slobber) and hugs. You are a turning out to be a goofy little ham. I’ve got to get some of it on video soon.

You’re still not really napping much, but I’m over it. After months of three-hour attempts that resulted in 30-minute naps, I’ve given up trying to strong-arm you into it and I’m letting you dictate your slumber times. I have no more delusions of a “nap schedule” or of getting a break or even time to shower during the day, so that if it does happen, I’m pleasantly surprised. Generally you’re now down to one, and occasionally two, but it’s rarely more than an hour total in a 12-hour period. You’re actually a better napper on the go, and often pass out in your stroller or the Ergo for a brief catnap on the fly. Now that summer’s nearly here, I’m just embracing it. We can stay out all day and come and go when we please because we are not bound by any routine or schedule. It’s nice, actually. And you are *zonked* by the end of the day, so we’re assured an awesome night’s sleep, which you have been consistently delivering for a couple of months now. Oh, and in addition to your beloved Softy, we have added a rotation of light blankets into your crib, and you love balling them up in your fists and snuggling with them as you drift off to sleep.

You are obsessed with your books now: reading them, but also pulling them all off the shelf, studying their covers, and then throwing them on the floor. Your favorite books this month include the following – Doggies, Boats, Animal Nursery Rhymes, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? That last one was already a cherished one in the past, but now I can really see you processing and internalizing it. You’re loving the repetitive language and predictability of books like that. You’ve become an expert page turner, and you even turn the page in anticipation at the precise moment I say “I see a…(looking at me).” Clever girl.

Wow – we’re just about at the year mark, Miss Dina. For once, I’m not feeling a sense of utter disbelief, because you are undeniably evolving into a toddler and you seem light years away from your newborn self. I’m really loving this stage. You have so much personality now. It’s like I can already see who you’re going to be as a child: a fearless, messy whirlwind of giggles and strong opinions.  Just what I hoped for in a daughter. I’m so excited to celebrate your upcoming birthday with you and to watch your continued evolution unfold.

Love ya, love ya, love ya lots.

XO,

Mom

]]> http://www.babyb.net/dear-sylvie-at-11-months/feed/ 0 http://www.babyb.net/dear-sylvie-at-10-months/ http://www.babyb.net/dear-sylvie-at-10-months/#comments Tue, 20 Apr 2010 03:09:13 +0000 phillygil http://www.babyb.net/?p=1819

Dear Big Girl,

Boy am I late with this one! You’re closer to 11 months old at this point, and here I am, just finally jotting down your latest antics. I just can’t seem to find the energy in the evenings lately because you are one busy little beaver during the day. And no, I haven’t written your birth story, either. I know I promised and I feel like such a jerk for breaking my promise to you. I’m really not that kind of mama! But you should take some comfort in the fact that it’s because I’m spending my days crawling around with you, reading with you, singing with you, taking you places. I did mean to get it down in the evenings, but I seriously just can’t understand how a month went by as quickly as it did. It will be written before your birthday, sweet pea, even if I have to relive my college days and pull an all-nighter.

Well, anyway, let’s start with the big stuff from this month. You’ve done it: you’ve officially said your first word. And despite the fact that you spend 90% of your time with your mama, your first utterance was still somehow “dada.” Of course. Nah, I’m just joking around with you – it was an awesome moment. Daddy came home after work and was busily doing something on his computer, and you kept making little raspberry sounds and grunts from your highchair, trying to catch his eye. Your papa never was much for multitasking, so, despite your cuteness, he kept his head buried in his laptop and didn’t acknowledge your efforts. After a minute or so of you trying to monkey for his attention, you blurted out “dada!” as clear as day. Daddy’s face immediately froze, and he turned toward you with a smile and a look of uncertainty and we both looked at each other as if to say, “did she really say what I think she did?” As soon as he looked at you, you broke out an enormous grin and repeated “dada!” as if to confirm to us that you knew exactly what you were doing. We both melted.

That was at the beginning of April, and you are now in the midst of a full-on language explosion. You “sing” in the back of the car when the radio’s on (and it sounds exactly like when the neighborhood dogs “sing” along with passing ambulance sirens). You’re now also calling me “mawmaw,” (oh yeah!) you say “et” whenever the cat walks by you, and you repeat the word “banana” with either “buh” or “nana-a.”  You said “hi” to Matt when he came over for Easter (but you haven’t said it since). And I swear that the other day (and grandma can back me up here since she witnessed it via Skype) you repeated the word “button” perfectly after I said it to you. You are fascinated by the way our mouths move as we talk and you study them intently and then try your hand at replicating the sounds. Sometimes you are way off and it’s hilarious, but mostly you are becoming a pro at isolating the initial sounds of words and repeating them back to us. It. Is. Awesome. As a teacher, I always loved helping children develop in their language and literacy skills, and this is one-million-trillion times better than any of my previous experiences. I get so excited watching your linguistic wheels a-spinning as you screw up your little lips and create sounds that are completely novel to you. You’re quite pleased with these new skills, too. You have taken to pulling books out and intently studying pictures and illustrations as I point to them and name them. I can practically see an ever-expanding bubble of vocabulary floating around your head. I’m so excited to have conversations with you!

I’m surprised you’re as on your linguistic game as you are, what with all of your sleep deprivation. Little girl, WHY won’t you nap? Baby friends your age are taking somewhere in the ballpark of 2-4 hours worth of naps per day. You? Well, you’re just perfectly fine on a mere 20 minutes during a 12-hour period. And you even fight that tooth and nail! How is that even possible? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your deep, lengthy nighttime slumber, but without naps I have lost any daytime opportunity to shower, make lunch, check my email, or even go to the bathroom alone. Daddy gets home from work some days and I’m a dirty, hungry mess begging him to give you a bath so I can get 10 minutes to myself. Besides that, your little rapidly-developing brain and body need that recharge time. I mean, I get it – I’m an absolutely horrible napper myself, and I’m sure some of it’s genetic, but please try?! For mama?

I wonder if your lack of naps might have something to do with this new personality you’ve been cultivating. This oh-so-toddleresque personality. Indecisive, contrary, and rebellious, already at 10 months. I thought we had more time before the Terrible Twos! When you’re up, you want to be down. When you’re down, you want to be up. When I tell you “no” you either pitch a fit immediately or you laugh and do the verboten thing anyway. You try to flip yourself off the changing table on a daily basis and scream when we don’t let you. Changing your diaper is now akin to wrestling a feral cat. You protest your stroller, your car seat, your pants. Sheesh. You have one strong little will. Stubborn with a capital S. If this is just the beginning of it all, then I have to admit I’m a bit nervous.

One thing you don’t protest anymore is storytime. Back when you were a wee one and we read to you “just for practice,” you would often start crying and fussing after a few pages, indicating that we were providing you with entirely too much information. Lately, though, you can’t get enough of books. You have a new favorite genre of book – that of the “touchy feely” variety. It started with the ridiculously-titled “That’s not my dinosaur, its body is too squashy.” I picked it up at a yard sale and you seriously could not get enough of that book and its textures for over two weeks. Luckily (or maybe unluckily) for us, the maker of that book has created countless others, and you duped me into buying the equally bizarre “That’s not my monster, its nose it too bobbly” in the store the other day with your peals of laughter with each new sensory experience. I don’t buy books retail! See what you’ve managed to finagle with your cuteness? I plan to scour consignment shops and yard sales this summer for more of these books, or maybe I’ll even try making my own. I could see a whole series developing: “That’s not my mommy/daddy/cat/grandma/crib…” Now I just need to figure out where to find the time.

Relatedly, you have become enamored with all things soft and fuzzy. You pick up stuffed animals and stroke them across your face or, alternately, you drop them on the floor and dive bomb on top of them, snuggling them with all of your might. You have a fleecy lamb lovey (that somehow acquired the name “Softy”) that you bring to bed with you every night, and you’re always holding it when I come get you in the morning. You love touching the cat, and we are working to help you understand the concept of “gentle.” Oh, and (this one’s a little harder on my ego and therefore not as cute), you love rolling bits of my upper-arm fat between your fingers as we snuggle. You can feel free to stop that one at any time.

Your crawl is getting much smoother these days and you’re pretty consistently using that right knee now. You are insanely proud of your locomotion abilities. Some nights, you kick it into “turbo crawl” action and just gleefully move at top speed from the kitchen to the living room and back again. You’re adept enough now to crawl with items in your hands, and you even recently figured out that you can also carry items in your mouth. Today you were crawling toward me with a shaker egg in one hand, an Elmo doll in the other, and a washcloth hanging out of your mouth. You could not have been more satisfied with your silly self. You love chasing us around the living room ottomans as we hide behind them, pop our heads up, and cry out “no!” in mock horror as you spot us and scamper toward us. You’re cruising the furniture at lightning speed now, and you’re even beginning to figure out how to climb. You have a walker and you know how to use it, but holding onto it impedes your ability to also hold toys, so you often give up and go back to crawling with your fists full of loot.

This is a way off yet, but I’ve started to think about what weaning might look like for you. At this point, we both still love our nursing time together (well, minus the occasional bites) and there doesn’t seem to be any end in sight. Truth be told, I am thoroughly lazy and pulling down my shirt wherever I may be is infinitely easier than measuring ounces and washing bottles and making sure I’ve packed enough in the diaper bag for you to eat. However, I really need to start at least getting you on a schedule. You still nurse every two hours or more like a newborn! As I’m always there with you, it’s fine, but it does seem to be impeding your eating of actual foods somewhat. You currently only eat your dinner with any sort of real appetite and regularity. Despite my careful preparation of colorful, organic, balanced breakfasts and lunches, you often take 2 bites and then give me the cold shoulder, leaving me to pathetically polish off your leftovers. Hey, at least I’m eating healthier as a result, but it’s supposed to be for you! When you do eat, you’ve made it clear that you are much too cool for purees, so now we’ve got a bunch of frozen cubes of ground-up fruits and veggies just wasting space in the freezer. Carrot/zucchini muffins and peach/mango smoothies, anyone? You also basically recoil in horror from your rice cereal now. Because I still want you to get the iron from it, I’ve had to get clever (read:sneaky) and I put a very diluted version of it in your sippy cup because if there’s one thing you like almost as much as breastmilk, it’s water. You literally pant with excitement when you see me pouring from the Brita into your sippy. Another thing you got from me. Daddy calls us water monsters. We’re two peas in a pod, you and me. Non-napping, water-loving peas.

It’s spring, Boody Dooda, and I’m thrilled to be able to freely take you out and about again, knowing that you’re going to be so much more aware than you were last year. I’m already anticipating the excited squawks and giggles, and maybe this time there will even be a word or two! We’re already making plans to go hiking, bike-riding, and traveling. We may even take you to Portugal! This time last year, we were having my baby shower and anticipating your arrival. That was a lifetime ago. In fact, that doesn’t even feel like it was part of my life anymore. How could it be, without little Handsome Pants?  I could not possibly have imagined you this time last year, and you surely have exceeded any expectations I would have had, anyway. Now I can’t imagine my life any other way. You are my my world, Sylvie B. And I am one lucky mama.

Softy snuggles, tickles, and cuddles,

Mom

Dear Handsome,

Yes, I called you “handsome.” Your daddy started calling you that one day after saying you looked “handsome in your pants,” and it stuck. Despite my protests that girls aren’t handsome, and that it was a weird nickname to bestow, he gradually wore me down and I now find myself calling you that from time to time. Hopefully this is one of the more short-lived nicknames, but I’m not too optimistic. Daddy loves yelling, “Hey, handsome!” and I don’t even think he calls you by your name anymore these days (except, perhaps, a stern “Sylvia!” when you’re being mischievous).

You are now 9 months old – out as long as you were in! This second 40 weeks definitely went faster than the first, and it just keeps picking up steam. I now feel ridiculous that I have still not written your birth story, and I promise to do it at some point in your ninth month. I better get it down in writing soon, because now that you are such a big girl you are keeping me busier than ever. What a difference a month has made!

You are now crazily mobile. You are crawling, rolling everywhere, pulling up to stand, beginning to “cruise,” and you’ve even logged a few seconds of independent standing! They talk about “wonder weeks” in which babies learn a flurry of new skills all at once – well, I think you’ve been having a wonder month because there’s something new every day! You’re pretty fearless, and have thus given yourself enough bumps and bruises (and even a bloody nose!) that we’re probably already on some DSS watch list. You’re getting the hang of this “two-knees” business, but when you started crawling, you were doing so with your left knee and your right foot, with both of your feet facing to the right. I thought it was the cutest little simian thing ever, but your PT said that it’s actually maladaptive since you have some asymmetry in your strength, so for the past month I’ve been following you around on my hands and knees in an attempt to keep your leg down. Yeah, because that’s easy to do all day long! Luckily, you’re discovering that right knee more and more. Hmm, is “luckily” really the right choice of word? Why again did I wish for and encourage you to start crawling? Man, you’re getting incredibly fast with each passing day and you’re into *everything!* The cat food, the recycling, the shoes, the magazines, the crumbs in the crack of the oven…you are exploring every facet and detail of your abode from your new vantage point, and it pretty much all ends up in your mouth at one point or another. You are certainly challenging my previously-held notion of what was “clean enough.” Our housecleaning paraphernalia have seen more use in the past month than they had in entire years, and yet you still manage to find the one speck of dust or rogue Cheerio that we miss.

You recently had your 9-month appointment, and you remain a supermodel contender with your proportions. You’re in the 69th percentile for height, 17th for weight, and 24th for head circumference. You’re so long, in fact, that we just graduated you to a convertible car seat. No more bucket seat for you. Which means I’m now trapped in the car if you ever decide to take your nap there. I think you like it, though. Daddy calls it your “command center,” and you lounge out in it and play with your toys and your feet. You’ve even already taken a couple of naps in it while riding around, and we only got it installed two days ago, so that gets a big thumbs up from me. You are less sure about riding in the stroller like a big girl. It’s fine as long as I keep moving, but whenever I stop, you get whiny. I think you miss having someone to look at and, truthfully, I miss looking down at your little face, too. It’s not the same peering down at the top of your head through a plastic window in the canopy. Oh well, we’ve only used that $300 stroller about 5 times anyway. I laughed at the extreme stance the character “LN” took on strollers in the sweet movie “Away We Go,” but truthfully I’m probably closer to that than I realize. You and I are much happier being marsupials with the Ergo most of the time. As long as you stay in the 17th percentile for weight, I’m happy to carry you around. It’s fun – kind-of reminiscent of my pregnant belly, except with flailing limbs and a babbling mouth attached.

As you grow, your features are changing and rearranging, and I’m starting to see more of your daddy’s face in yours. And your cousin Timmy. You look quite a bit like he did as a baby, down to the way you move your mouth. But every once in a while, I still catch something that is so unmistakably me or my mother or even your paternal great-grandma that it catches me off-guard. You have now cut your top two teeth (PLEASE stop grinding them with your lower ones!) and we realized that you have a lower-than-average labial frenulum (the little doo-hickey that attaches your lip to your gums). When I mentioned it to my mom, she said, “Oh, she’s probably going to have the Gilmore gap!” Ah yes, that. It skipped me, but your grandpa has it, and I think your great aunt might, too. Genes are funny things. I still have no clue what you’re going to look like when you’re older.

You went through a brief period with a food strike, but now you’re back on solids. You seem to think, though, that you’re too much of a big-shot for purées, and you infinitely prefer finger foods now. This month you’ve enjoyed feeding yourself beans, melon, banana, puffs, Cheerios, cottage cheese, string cheese, carrots, bread, avocado, blueberries, and globs of spinach. It is a messy adventure every time you eat, and you’re up to three meals a day now. There is constantly food on everything, and I think I may invest in a smock of some kind for both of us. In fact, I may just take to feeding you outside now that it’s warmer. Then I can just hose you off when we’re done! Just kidding. Kind-of.

You are a very social being, and we’re seeing even more of your wild-woman personality. Daddy no longer gets more than a minute or two of  coffee time in the morning. You pretty much demand that he play “horsey,” dance with you, sing to you, and throw you around. He’s exhausted before his day even begins. You enjoy meeting new people now, and only rarely cry if they touch you or get too close. You love being out and about, soaking in new sights, sounds, and smells. However, I still have to introduce you slowly to new environments when you’re not safely ensconced in our arms. If I plunk you down in an unfamiliar setting, you immediately cry and crawl to me for reassurance. Eventually, though, you do scamper around, exploring your new environs like a little one-kneed Magellan. With other kids, frankly, you’re a bit of a bully. Your buddy Luke is always so gentle with you and actually seems to enjoy taking turns with toys with you, but you just rip them out of his hands maniacally and bop him on the head with them. I think you get a “needs improvement” in the “plays nice with others” category for now. The other day, though, you met your match with Gabe. According to his parents, he’s a bit of a bully, too. I think we’ll set up some regular play dates to let you two take each other down a few pegs.

You now fancy yourself a conversationalist and you are constantly talking throughout the day. You have perfected a ton of new consonant sounds, including b,d,g,h,m,n,p,s,v, and w, and you string them together with all kinds of vowels and funny inflections. You’ve started trying to imitate some words, including “Hi” (“huh”), “Dada,” “Mama,” “kiss” (“sss”), “goosh” (daddy’s word, I have no idea…your version is “guh”) and “poop” (“puh”). We’re still not calling the “Dada” and “Mama” official words yet, since you don’t seem to be labeling us with them, just imitating. But, I don’t know, maybe they are? Boy, I hope “poop” isn’t your first official word. That’s not really a great one for the baby books! But, I swear, the other day you passed some gas, and then looked at me and said, definitively, “puh” with a big smile on your face. It was pretty hilarious.

You’ve been loving book time as of late, and you actually are now listening to the language and stories, rather than just trying to eat the corners of the books. I mean, you still take a nibble every now and again, but after you’ve satisfied your craving for cardboard, your focus goes back to the tale. You try to pick up some of the illustrations in your pincer grasp, and you’re starting to figure out how to turn the pages. Your current favorites include “Brown Bear, Brown Bear,” “Hop on Pop,” and “Snuggle Puppy.” You’re less appreciative of Mommy’s and Daddy’s books and magazines, and you enjoy pulling them off of shelves and ripping them to pieces as we yell “no!” from afar. Boy, we’re finding new things to childproof every day!

This new Sylvie you’re becoming can be exhausting from time to time, but mostly you’re just a blast. I am loving your feisty personality, your independent streak, and your zest for life. It’s so fun to look at things through your eyes and realize just how much of what you’re seeing and experiencing each day is a “first.” I am constantly watching your wheels turning and the connections you’re making with nothing less than awe. When we brought home this little mohawk’d newborn-who-could-fit-on-my-forearm 9 months ago, I never could have imagined that, in the blink of an eye, you’d be this little entity with so many ideas, opinions, and preferences. Yet, here you are. I am amazed by you every day. And I’m so glad you’re mine. I love you, little handsome pants.

Great big kisses (“ss-ss”),

Mama

Dear Sylvika,

Well, I thought since it had been only a short time since my last letter to you that there wouldn’t be much to say, but you sure proved me wrong: you’re on the move! In January (on the 19th) you started your very best impersonation of a caterpillar. Using your two arms together as a unit, you grunted and pulled and dragged your lower half across the floor, desperate to get to your O-ball. With each passing day, you are becoming more adept at locomotion, and you’re finally starting to realize that you have these things called “knees,” but you’re still not entirely sure what to do with them. Nevertheless, your slither is rapidly picking up speed and you are getting into all kinds of new trouble. Your new favorite form of mischief is to head right for the television cables and/or the radiator (both of which we still have not childproofed – bad us!). We *have* childproofed the death trap of a coffee table we had because you spent all of your remaining time crawling under it and then sitting up and bonking your head on the underside. Today, we got some soft storage ottomans, and you were endlessly amused by pulling yourself up on them and then falling back onto your butt. You are a busy little bee these days, getting into all kinds of trouble. You are now fully aware of what “no” means, and you stop momentarily when I say it, smile slyly, sometimes shake your head, and then continue on.  Oh, we are in for it now!

You’ve got some new language tricks these days, too. You’re pretty consistently saying “mama” or, at least, “ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma.” I can’t say that I believe you know what it means at this point, but it’s still music to my ears every time you say it. Other sounds you’ve enjoyed making as of late include “baba,” “blah, blah,” and “CHAAAHHHH,” which is a gutteral growl that originates deep in your throat. You are thoroughly amused by the sound of your own voice and babble to yourself as you play.

Last week, you started a baby swimming class. I knew from your pool party experience this past summer that you weren’t a huge fan of cold water, but what I didn’t know was just how vocal you would be about it this time around. While all the other babies registered surprise, pleasure, or curiosity on their quiet little countenances, you chanted “MMMMMMMMM! MMMMMMM! MMMMMM!” at the top of your lungs nearly the entire time you were submerged. The instructor practically had to yell over you to be heard. It wasn’t clear exactly what you were feeling since you never cried or laughed, but you sure wanted to communicate something!  I’m still deciding whether we’ll go back. The day after our first class, I read an article about babies who are exposed to chlorinated pools having higher rates of childhood asthma. This is probably the neuroti-mom in me since we’re only spending about 30 minutes in the water, but you’ve had this bad cough for over a month now, and anyway I’m not even sure you liked it. We might try once more this week and see how it goes. I’m really excited for you to be a little fish in the water, but there’s plenty of time, I suppose.

You are fully immersed in the world of food with two meals a day now, and you’re getting the hang of it. Favorites this month include yogurt, peas, and oatmeal, and you’re becoming much more willing to try new things. You still screw up your face in hilarious little contortions with something novel, but it doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t like it. You are still in love with “solids,” and your new favorite is little tofu cubes that you can pick up yourself. It takes you a good minute to get that one calorie or so into your hand and then into your mouth, but you are determined! And you’re developing quite a good pincer grasp with all of the lint-seeking you’ve been doing on the floor lately. Oh, and I’m sure you and all of the other readers of this blog don’t need to know this, but I can’t restrain myself from saying just this one word about food poops: Yu-uh-uck! Can’t we just keep doing this breastfeeding thing until you’re fully potty trained?! Doesn’t that sound like fun?!

In other news (and I hesitate to even say this for fear of jinxing it), sleep seems to be getting somewhat back on track. Daddy and I decided to do a little pre-midnight sleep-training with you, because the wake-ups were just getting ridiculously frequent. We let you cry them out, going into your room every few minutes to let you know that you were OK and that we were there. Every time we left, you would cry harder, which was hard to bear, but you did catch on surprisingly fast. It was painful for all of us, but I think it ultimately helped you figure out how to self-soothe. Within three days, you were putting yourself back to sleep within a minute! Now, we really don’t have to go into your room until your early morning wake-up. I’ve been trying to be tough about the no-big-bed-before-4 a.m. ground rules, but really, I’m a huge pushover in the middle of the night. More often than not, you’re waking pretty much at 4 on the dot (I guess you internalized last month’s post!), but when you do wake at 3:30 or even 2:45, well, I just don’t have the fortitude to follow through. I *have* noticed, though, that the time is creeping ever earlier, so you may want to watch that – there is a firm and consistent teacher somewhere deep down in me, and she may emerge if consistently deprived of enough sleep!

Wow, my big baby girl, will it ever cease to astound me when another month goes by? With every passing day, you are moving farther from a helpless and dependent newborn and toward a little person with her own ideas, preferences, traits, and quirks. It’s so much fun to get to know you through every step of your evolution. At eight months old, you are so much more fascinating and wonderful and perfect than I ever could have imagined, and I am thrilled to have you in my life. And you know what’s wild? You *still* haven’t been out in the world as long as you were inside of me! That’s amazing to me, considering I feel like I’ve known you forever. Perhaps, on some level, I have. Happy 8 months, sweet, sensational Sylvie. I love you big bunches up to the sky.

Kisses,

Mom

Dearest Sylvie B.,

Happy 7 months! This has been an exciting month of firsts for you, my love. First Christmas, first real snow, first tooth (now already graduated to first teeth!), first babbling…you are becoming such a big girl and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to keep up!

For example, you may have noticed that this letter to you is nearly two weeks late – the latest so far, I believe. Part of that I blame on the busyness of the holiday season and part of it I blame on, well, you. Now, I love you to pieces so it’s only fair that I tell it to you straight: Baby, you have become one _terrible_ little sleeper. You’re like a newborn these days: crying when you’re put down, waking multiple times a night demanding to be soothed, expecting to nurse multiple times a night…yikes! And this from the 8 week-old who used to sleep 10+ hours a night without a peep?! You’re doing it backwards! We got our first taste of it on Thanksgiving, and felt terrible for getting frustrated with your constant waking when you finally threw up all of your sweet potatoes. And then you went and got awful diarrhea and a diaper rash, so I determinedly nursed and changed you every few hours around the clock to make sure you weren’t dehydrated or sore…and then the teething began…and the slippery slope of your exhausted and defeated parents bringing you into bed and, well, you get the picture. Nighttime is a big ol’ mess in the House of B. We’re not at the point of sleep-training (yet), mainly because I can’t stomach the thought of you crying endlessly in the dark with no response, but we are starting to get a little tough love on you. Once you’re down in the crib, I’m no longer picking you up if you get upset. I’ll hold your hand or rub your tummy, but you’re getting the message that it’s crib time no matter what. And I’m not bringing you into our bed before 4 a.m, even though it’s the easiest route if you wake before then. We haven’t quite decided what to do about that little acquired nightly habit. On the one hand, I don’t sleep very well with you there, and I worry about the habit we’re creating for the long term, but on the other hand, it really is lovely to snuggle all together as a family and you’re only a baby once…well, we’ll probably keep doing it for a while longer. But, remember – not before 4 a.m.! Tough mama has spoken!

The thing is, you know what you’re doing with those cries these days. When you were a newborn, every cry indicated that you had some sort of _need_ to be met, and we worked hard to figure out exactly what that was. Nowadays, though, you really don’t cry all that much, and when you do, it’s most often when there’s something that you _want._ If we take a toy away from you, you instantaneously burst into tears. If we walk away from you when you want to play, same thing. And again when we walk out of the room at bedtime. This new cry is distinct. It’s a plaintive, pleading wail and it indicates to us just how much of your own little person you’ve become (and that toddlerhood is looming ever closer!)

Your personality is really starting to shine through these days, and you are shaping up to be quite a spitfire! You’re rambunctious, giggly, destructive, industrious, curious, spastic, a bit moody…and a whole lot of fun. You love climbing up your father and me, grabbing at our faces, chewing on our chins, or swiping daddy’s glasses. You like being thrown in the air and spun around in circles. You have funny opinions about things. For example, you detest having your nose picked or wiped and you scream and you fuss, but you absolutely adore when I use the disgusting little nasal bulb syringe to suck out your snot. You actually giggle as it’s coming toward you. You have also developed a strange affinity for octopi. You have three octopus toys: “Octotunes,” “Big Purple Guy,” and the creatively-named “Bath Octopus,” and you regularly seek out all three of them. I can’t even nurse you in your room rocker during daylight anymore because you will make eye contact with Octotunes and pop off and start talking to him. You love wrestling with Big Purple Guy and you even used him as leverage the other day to stand momentarily.

You are getting close with this moving business. I have a feeling this is our last month of being able to turn our backs on you for more than a second. You have officially escaped the Kick and Play chair and daddy can no longer contain you there for his first few sips of coffee in the morning. Instead, you need to be on the floor where the action is. We set up a foam alphabet mat in the living room for you to play on (much to daddy’s chagrin) and you go to town!  When we plunk you down into the seated position, you almost immediately dive onto your belly and pivot all around, grabbing at any toys that are within your circumference. If they are just out of reach, you’ve learned to push off with your big toe to give you that extra inch or two for grabbing, and you’ll even try using another toy as a tool to drag it toward you. Tool use already!  I feel like I’m witnessing the development of early man and names of theories such as “recapitulation” and “maturationist” and others that I learned in school but am too lazy to look up swirl around in my head as I study you with fascination. My own little cavewoman evolving before my eyes.

Your language is coming along splendidly, as well. You had your first babble-fest at Grandma Linda’s house and spent several minutes perfecting your “babababas.” We’re pretty sure we’ve heard several “mamas” and “dadas,” but they weren’t definitive enough to record in the history annals just yet. You love growling and roaring like a monster, and those raspberries are filled with very complex sounds these days: something like BLTHZZ. You also enjoy screaming, especially in a a call-and-response conversation with an adult (ahem, grandma). Noisy little cavewoman.

You’re becoming more of an eater now with two square meals instead of one. In addition to rice cereal, you have now tried oatmeal, peas, apples, squash, prunes, carrots, sweet potatoes, pears, bananas, rice rusks, avocados, yogurt, and watermelon. Of these, you really like only oatmeal, watermelon, and rice rusks, and you’re beginning to tolerate prunes, carrots, yogurt, and squash. The disgusted faces you make when we introduce something new are priceless, and it generally takes at least 4 tries for you to even allow something into your mouth. I hope this doesn’t mean that you’re going to be a picky eater. My mom said when I was a baby she literally “couldn’t shovel it in fast enough,” but Jon was apparently one of those “spaghetti and butter” kinds of kids. When I was pregnant with you, I was quite the adventurous eater (in addition to having a killer sweet tooth), so I was hoping that I piqued your curiosity with that flavorful amniotic fluid. Time will tell, I guess. I am noticing that you’re much more interested in solids than in purees. You think it is just awesome to be able to “chew” on a piece of watermelon or to be able to hold and munch your very own rice rusk, so we’ll probably start you on finger foods sooner rather than later.

Oh, my big girl. I know you’re probably tired of reading “it’s hard to believe,” but it really is hard to believe that you’ve already had your first Christmas. This year it was incredibly special. For the first time in our lives together, your daddy and I stayed home instead of traveling, so that we could have our very own celebration as a family. It’s the start of a new annual tradition, and we couldn’t be more excited to share it with you. This year, the three of us decorated our tree, hung stockings, baked cookies, and visited friends together. Even though you had no idea what was going on, it was wonderful to watch you open your gifts on Christmas morning and revel in our special day together as a family. I’m looking so forward to the years to come. Happy New Year, sweetheart.

Nuzzle-nuzzle, nosey-nosey,

Mama

Dear Sylvie Bilversen,

Well, look at you! You’re sitting up! Isn’t that impressive? You have officially entered big girl territory! My word…six months old. I can’t even pretend that you’re still in the “newborn” category anymore, now that you’ve clocked half a year. Happy half-birthday, baby girl!

You had your pediatrician check-up on Monday, and you maintained your peanut-head string-bean proportions: 75th for length, 32nd for weight, 37th for head circumference. I was actually surprised, because I think you’re looking quite chubby these days, but I guess it’s all relative and most 6-month-olds are bigger chunkamunks than you. At least you actually made it onto the “weight-for-length” chart this time around. I know they say that those things aren’t predictive at this age (and it’s a good thing, or I would have been an *enormous* adult), but you really are maintaining a pretty consistent pattern there. During your visit, you impressed your pediatrician with your sitting abilities, and you unleashed your hellion wail on the nurse who administered your vaccinations. I don’t blame you at all, though. That was a whole lot of needles. I’m sorry for all that, by the way. If it’s any consolation, I really think the horror of it stays with me longer than it does you.

We have had an absolutely lovely November together. As you can see from a previous post, we joined a Kindermusik class, which, frankly, is a rip-off, but I  couldn’t deny you it after we did a trial class and you giggled and shrieked your whole way through it. Your first class was a bit of a rocky start (you nursed and fussed through about $20 of the $23 class), but you have made up for it since then. You are hilarious in action, little girl – I just wish you had less expensive taste! You had many first experiences this month, and we are loving watching you further develop into your own little person. Let me share with you some of the highlights from the month:

Socially, you have become aware of (and interested in) other babies. We recently had brunch at Annika’s and you and Julia (8 months) sat wobbling and smiling and staring at each other like two little barflies at closing time. You enjoy spending time with your buddy Noah, and you two even “shared” a toy recently (slobber and all) as you sat squished together in your car seats on our way to Isis. At our natural childbirth reunion, you allowed the other babies to touch you and play with you, but you drew the line on having your feet fondled and kicked poor Luke in the face! I felt bad for the little guy, but I guess a small part of me is proud of the way you’re already handling yourself with the boys.

With adults, you are now intermittently waving hello and goodbye. At first I thought it was a fluke, but you consistently open and close your fist at Grandma when we Skype, and you waved at our friend John when he stopped by to meet you the other day. I’m not even sure how you learned that, as I’m definitely not one of those “Wave bye-bye!” types of moms. You are just soaking it all up through osmosis, I guess. You are definitely starting to understand certain recurring language, themes, and games. For example, when I said, “Hammer Legs” to you the other day while you were on the changing table, you immediately smiled and started slamming them down. Repeated 5 times, you did the same thing every time. Hilarious.

You have begun to develop stranger anxiety, especially, for some reason, with Andrew. The last couple of times you saw him, you just wailed your heart out. Maybe you and the cat have been having one too many powwows. Given enough space and time the last time, though, you came around. But who knows what your reaction to him will look like next time. Stranger anxiety is funny. One minute, you’re chatting and cooing and smiling with everyone in the waiting room, and the next you’re screaming and hiding your face when the physical therapist so much as looks at you. I hope this is one of the shorter phases.

Once again, I jinxed myself with last month’s rave about your sleep. Why won’t I learn? This past week has been a bedtime disaster. You screamed for hours the past few nights, and we’ve had to hold and rock you until you are fast asleep and then ever-so-gingerly put you down. However, tonight was significantly better and I’m trying not to get too worried about it. You do have the tail-end of a cold after all. Who wouldn’t want to be rocked to sleep when they’re sick? But I must say that you may have finally lost your reigning title as Sleeping Beauty. You are still a good sleeper in the grand scheme of things, but you’ve added some new surprising and erratic wake-up times (including last night’s midnight feeding and weird 4 am finger-in-your-throat-gagging-yourself-for-fun drama) that I think may just disqualify you from the world championship.

Naps are also up and down, although you do continue to have one good one and several shorter ones on most days. Unfortunately, I have clearly turned you into a swaddle addict at naps, judging by how badly you nap without it. What kind of mom *introduces* the swaddle at 4 months old?! Now we’ve had to go out and buy something called a Woombie (it makes you look like a giant worm) in a size described as “Mega Baby.” No idea what we’re going to do when you outgrow that!

Sylvie language has officially taken off and M is back as the official sound of the month. Your favorite sounds include “mmmm,” “ooooom,” and “ummm.” B has also joined the mix, in such various incarnations as “ba” and “Mm-bah.” “L” has also made a reappearance in the forms of “oool,” and even “oooolm” and “blll.” You’ve also rediscovered the art of the raspberry. Last night, daddy asked you what you thought of him having to work late, and, without even a second’s delay, you replied with a big “Thhhhbbbbbttt!” Atta girl!

Physically, you are now so strong and controlled. The biggest milestone, of course, is that you’re now sitting up. It’s pretty amazing to see your little torso upright un-propped, your chubby arms reaching out and adeptly picking up and manipulating toys. But I still need to stay close, as evidenced by your big faceplant on the kitchen floor today. I have a feeling we’re in a for a few bumps and bruises next month. Good thing you’re pretty easygoing about all of it. You’re also now using a Johnny-jump-up and, boy, do you ever LOVE it. You in that thing has got to be one of the cutest things ever. Now that you’ve learned how to jump, it’s a new favorite activity on our laps, too. I’ll have to get Phoebe and Julia to teach you the “Bouncy Ladies” song.

Digestively (OK, totally not a word, but you get what I’m saying), the big news is that you’ve started solids. You were incredibly gung-ho about your rice cereal the first day, but your enthusiasm has since waned. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you threw up your entire Thanksgiving meal at midnight. Maybe that turned you off just a bit. Whatever it is, you’re now screwing up your face and pursing your lips and generally just seem disenchanted with this whole “food” business. I’m continuing to try, since you apparently need iron now, but I don’t want to force too much too soon. So far, in addition to rice cereal, you’ve tried sweet potatoes (disastrous), prunes (meh), and bananas (you were disgusted by their very existence). On the other end, you’re still not much of a pooper these days. I’ve actually started a “poop chart,” which is a tad embarrassing and I’m sure is being overly anxious about the whole thing, but I just want to make weeks aren’t going by or something.  I sometimes forget just how long it’s been. I think your digestive system is just still adjusting to the shock of all of this food novelty. Although I get a little worried, you’re gaining weight just fine, and in reality I’m mostly just enjoying the lack of clothing changes and carseat blowouts. You also don’t really need to be burped anymore, although you sometimes still unexpectedly let out a big belch when we squeeze you, which is hilarious.

In some ways you have been keeping me a lot more on my toes with all of this mobility and awareness and eating and such. But, truth be told, I am loving it. I sometimes achingly miss how adorably helpless and teeny you were as a newborn, but mostly I am just glad that you are becoming increasingly independent and capable. I can’t wait to see you make your first move across the floor all on your own. It may very well be walking, rather than crawling if you’re anything like I was as a baby. Apparently, I ranked up there with the world’s worst crawlers, dragging one leg behind me and looking like a wounded dog. You don’t seem particularly aware of the fact that you can bend your knees and thus use your legs for anything beyond standing, so there’s a good chance you may be following in my footsteps, so to speak.

Oh, my baby girl, you’re getting so big and wonderful and it’s all just amazing. I am honored to get to witness your continued development and I delight in every new achievement and discovery, no matter how small. As a teacher, I have gotten to witness many children grow and change and it was always amazing, but never did I get to see every new advancement since birth and never was it as special as it is with my own sweet baby. I am so grateful that I get this opportunity to stay home with you and be a part of it all. I cherish every day that we’re together.

All my love,

Mama

My dear, sweet Sylvia Grace,

This has officially been the fastest month of your life to date! I swear you were just turning 4 months. How can this be? You’re five months old? As in, in just one more month you’ll be half a year old?! Eating solid food?! *sigh*

This month you had several family visitors: Ilene, Grandma Linda, Aunt Kelly and cousin Timmy. People who missed you so much they drove all the way from New York just to spend 24 hours with you. You also did a lot of seasonal activities (we’re big fans of fall around here), and you helped me celebrate my birthday. It was my best birthday to date because you were there with me. And, of course, you continued growing and changing and being your delightful little elf self. Here are some of the highlights from your October:

You have become incredibly active and have been working hard to discover new ways to move your body. You are no longer content to be an inert lump chewing on a toy, and even batting and kicking the toys on your baby gym is beginning to wear thin.  One of your new favorite moves is slamming your feet down on the ground repeatedly to create loud bangs. A good week or so after you discovered that, you determined that those same feet could actually help you *move.* So, now you’re also scootching backward across the floor on your back. You actually cover a lot of terrain this way and are surprisingly fast. You do it in your crib, too, so that when we check on you we sometimes find you wedged into the corner. Oh, and you’ve managed to rub completely clean that burgeoning bald spot on the back of your head. Yeah, that’s a really good look – a bald spot atop a mullet. Just keeping up your tradition of silly baby hair, I guess.

In addition to your scootching, you’re finally rolling over from your belly to your back! Well, technically you did this after your 5 month birthday (you started it yesterday, 11/3), but this letter is a few days late and it’s too exciting not to include. I was getting a little impatient waiting for it (I’m sorry), because I knew you were strong enough, but you just needed to work it out in your own due time. You had to figure out the whole “tuck and roll” concept, and you also had to figure out how to finagle that long body of yours. Now you roll whenever you get bored of being on your tummy, and you always look so proud of yourself and excited to check out the new scenery.

Your hands are an endless source of amusement for you this month. You are grabbing for absolutely everything, and your latest favorite item to grab is your daddy’s glasses. You can whip them off of his face in one second flat and you laugh as you do. I have no idea why he encourages you to do this, and he will probably learn the hard way. You love staring at your hands as you slowly move them this way and that – I think you just finally realized that they are, indeed, attached to you. I can also tell that you are working to figure out the distance between your hand and the objects of your desire. You often use one hand to help the other along, which looks particularly funny when you are bringing them to your mouth. It looks as though you’re punching yourself in the face with a handshake. Also, one of our new games is to play “Skill Crane,” in which I dangle you in front of your toy container and wait while you get your paws wrapped around your toy of choice before pulling you back up. Skill Crane was my favorite arcade game as a kid, and I think I have more fun playing our version than even you do.

We packed up the co-sleeper this past weekend. There’s just no need for it. With the exception of a couple of blips on the sleep radar (including one so far tonight), you continue to be Sleeping Beauty (your initials are SB, after all!). If you do wake up at an early hour, I simply pull you into bed with me and snuggle with you in a half-sleep state. It’s a wonderful feeling to cuddle with you and your daddy and the cat…all one big, happy family smushed together in our cozy bed. We’re going to go get some bed rails now, so that we can feel comfortable continuing these snuggle-fests as you get more adept at rolling. Oh, and speaking of sleep, you’ve started extending some of your naps! You used to consistently do 30 minutes on the dot, which left me little time to get anything done during the day. Well, all of a sudden, you’re doing 45, 60, and even 90-minute naps! Not every nap, but generally at least once a day now. Way to sleep, baby girl!

You are quite a giggler these days. We can now simply say, “ridiculous” to you, and you will start laughing. You recognize and think it’s hilarious when I sing the melody of the songs from your Kick and Play or your car mirror.  You have also become ticklish and you laugh with anticipation when we play the “Uh-oh…oh no!” game that culminates in crazy belly tickles. You still laugh at peek-a-boo, but it’s a weak laugh, almost as though you’re humoring me as I play these “baby games” with you. You much prefer the “dancing around the house” song or funny faces and silly voices these days.

Your body is definitely getting ready for solid foods. First of all, you have stopped pooping every day. (Why do moms always have to talk about their babies’ poops? I don’t know, but we do.) Your longest stretch to date has been three days with no diaper action, and you’re regularly skipping every other day. I’ve read plenty of information online that says that it’s totally normal and that you’ve just become really adept at absorbing all of my milk’s nutrients, but I don’t know. It makes me think you’re not getting enough or that something’s changing in your digestive system. Also, you’re likely just days away from sprouting that first tooth. I was so sure you were going to get teeth early way back when you were a drooly 2 month-old, but nothing. Now there is definitely a sharpness to your lower gums, and you simply cannot gnaw on things enough. I’m excited to see your jack-o’-lantern smile! Oh, and you’re also obsessed with watching us eat. You stare intently as the food goes from plate to fork to mouth, and you look perplexed and excited all at the same time. And finally, you have developed quite a bit of independence with feeding yourself. You hold your own bottle with your hands (and sometimes even your feet). You will now pull down my shirt if I’m not giving you milk right when you want it. You’re a funny little thing and it’s going to be so cool and amazing to watch you try solids for the first time in this upcoming month.

All right, so now that you’ve accomplished the fastest month of your life, can you please slow down? I love all of these new milestones and skills, but it’s so hard to keep up. Just today, I was reminiscing about you as a floppy, smaller-than-the-cat newborn as I hoisted your long and steady body up onto my hip. I know I need to get used to you as an ever-evolving being, and I am excited about all of your growth and changes, yet I seriously think I’m going to be at your high school graduation saying, “but you were just born!”  So, slow it down just a bit for your old mama, K?

Naw, I’m just kidding. Keep doing what you’re doing. I love you, Baby B.  You are always in my thoughts, and ever in my heart. I look forward to seeing where November takes us.

Zerberts, raspberries, and drool-soaked kisses,

Mama

Dearest Sylvie,

I’m so sorry that my letter to you is late. I have no good reason, except that I’ve been busy having fun with you. Which, I guess, is the very best excuse. However, I’m starting to push it with it being well over a week late. A week in your lifetime is substantial, seeing as you’ve only known 19 of them.

19 weeks since I first met you “on the outside.” It both does and doesn’t feel that long. In some ways, it’s like I’ve always known you. You’re such a real little person now, with your own ideas, mannerisms, and personality, that it’s surprising you’re not much older. Yet it truly feels like just the other day we were taking each other in for the first time from the warmth of the hospital bed: you with your old soul shining through despite your poor little pirate eye, and me with a look that undoubtedly conveyed a muddled mixture of exhaustion, awe, anticipation, and love. I really must write your birth story soon. It’s still surprisingly vivid in my mind, but it becomes less so with each passing day. I will try my best to get it written down this month.

At four months old, you have really become a lot of fun. Some of your latest “likes” include:

Saying good morning (and good afternoon) to the sunlight-dappled spider plant in the living room
Making “monster noises” in the back of your throat
Chewing on noses
Being anywhere but in the house
Playing in your exersaucer

And some of your dislikes:

Hearing mama sneeze
Waking up to find yourself strapped in the carseat
Having your nose wiped
Being put down for more than 5 minutes at a time

You continue to be “she who must be perpetually carried,” and your favorite vantage point is facing forward in the Bjorn. The carrier I thought I’d like the least is the only one you’ll tolerate for any length of time. The myriad others sit collecting dust in your closet, particularly those that face you in toward me. You are all done with that, except as a naptime crib alternative. From your perch on my chest, you love to help me cook, clean, check my email…it’s all fascinating. You snuffle and flap your arms and watch my every move intently. But I need to be very careful now. All of a sudden, you have developed a precise grasp and you are grabbing at absolutely everything. Yesterday, you knocked a container of shredded cheese out of my hand, sending cheese chunks flying everywhere. And today you shot your hand up and grabbed my lips with frightening accuracy.

You now get very excited when daddy gets home. You perk up as you hear him come through the door and you greet him with fantastic smiles. You two have cuddle and play time while I get dinner ready and all is right with the world. Well, most nights, anyway. Occasionally, you “blow apart,” as daddy would say. On these nights, you’ve usually skipped your late afternoon nap and you are just DONE. During these nights, dinner gets scrapped, daddy time doesn’t exist, and we switch into survival mode, also known as Mission:get-this-baby-to-bed-as-fast-as-possible.

Aren’t babies supposed to nap? Apparently you missed that memo. I’m still trying to enforce the 2-hours-awake routine, and you clearly need a nap at that point, as is evidenced by your yawns and eye rubs, but, man, do you fight it. You’re just like your mama in that way. I can’t nap to save my life.

Your resisitance is probably due, in large part, to the fact that you cram most of your sleep into 12 hours a night, with one wake up to eat typically around the 9th or 10th hour (and sometimes not at all). Yeah, I said it. I feel like I can finally admit it without getting bludgeoned by sleep-deprived moms now that you’re 4 months old. You are an absolutely amazing little sleeper. And you moved into your crib as if nothing at all had changed. If anything, you slept better. Thank you, sweet girl. You also sleep nothing like a baby. I find it funny when I read about people who still swaddle babies at your age. You’re so comfortable with your limbs. Most of the time you sleep like you’re lounging on the beach with your hands behind your head. I really must get a picture. You sleep so well that I miss you intensely by the morning. I actually look forward to the days when you wake up on the early side to nurse and am disappointed on the days when I realize that our alarm has gone off and you’re still asleep. I love bringing you in bed with me for those wee morning hours. We snuggle right up with the cat, or sometimes you lie on my chest, and we doze back off for another hour or two until your coffee-time ritual with daddy.

Through your late-nap boycotts and your evening crying jags, you conveyed to us that our chosen 8 PM bedtime was still too late for your liking. So we have moved it, yet again, to somewhere between 7:00 and 7:30. You seem to like this much better. A friend told me that, when planning for a baby’s sleep schedule, one should keep her eye on the ultimate goal of 7-7. Meaning that, by the time a child is school-aged, she should ideally be sleeping straight through from 7 PM to 7 AM. OK. At 4 months old, we can check that off the list. What else do you plan to accomplish five years ahead of schedule?

Perhaps it will be your height. You are one tall little girl! You’ve even already outgrown a car seat! We had your 4 month checkup today, and while your head circumference and weight only hover around the 30th percentile, your height is in the 85th. If you keep this up, you’re going to have a supermodel body and a little peanut head. Because you are so long, you’re outgrowing stuff well before you’re due. Most baby clothes just get progressively cut wider and not necessarily longer, so you sometimes have to wear 6- and even 9-month clothing in order for it to fit right. Yet, you also still easily squeeze into your stretchy 0-3 month onesies because you don’t have a typical baby belly. You have probably a matter of days left in most of your cloth diapers. Many of them are supposed to fit babies up to 15 or even 18 pounds (and you’re only 13.5), but because of your length, they’re already weirdly low-rise on you. Like some kind of baby Britney Spears diapers. Ick. I guess it’s time to head to Diaper Lab and feed my new-found consumer addiction.

Somehow, despite all the hand-me-downs and yard sale acquisitions, you are determined to get me to spend a lot of money. Particularly at Isis Maternity. We recently took some trial baby yoga and Kindermusik classes there, and you laughed, squealed, snuffled, and shrieked your way through. You were having the time of your life and you were even cracking up the other moms and the instructors. Neither class was precisely my cup of tea, but I could not deny your contagious enthusiasm. Despite my best financial intentions, I have a feeling we will probably go back for more.

You may have noticed that I mentioned you were laughing in that last paragraph. Yup, that’s right, laughing up a storm. I was getting concerned that you were never going to laugh in my last Dear Sylvie letter. Well, pretty much the day after I published that, you started giggling at every little thing. You still expect us to work for it, but we can hardly consider it a chore with such an adorable reward.

We also love watching your physical development. You are quite a strong and flexible little girl! In the past couple of weeks you found your feet, and now you spend a good chunk of the day holding them or shoving them into your mouth. You can also push your feet under yourself while doing tummy time, so that you’re kneeling. The problem is that your arms are not yet as strong as your legs, so you wind up doing some strange wheelbarrow faceplant type move that just serves to frustrate you. Don’t worry, you’ll get there. You continue to love standing on your “chickens,” and you can now even rise into this position from flat on your back with only the most minimal support. Oh, and your stomach (internally) has gotten stronger, too. You are no longer vomiting (thank goodness!), and I scarcely need to burp you anymore after you eat. It’s hard to believe, but you’ll be eating solids before we know it!

And, finally, you are developing your very own Sylvie language. You are literally babbling the day away. It’s mainly vowels, with a few consonants sprinkled throughout, and you express entire heartfelt paragraphs as your stare deeply into our eyes. You even sometimes continue talking deep in the back of your throat while you eat. You sure have a lot to say! You’re also seeming to understand more and more of what we say to you. The other day I was speaking gibberish to you and you looked at me like I was crazy. I’m guessing this means you have now isolated the sound and cadence of the English language and you knew I was trying to pull a fast one. Now that you’re a master of English, I guess we better get cracking with the foreign languages. Perhaps Spanish, so you and Noah can have a secret understanding at playgroups? Or maybe you’d prefer Polish, so you can show off for Uncle Andrew? Or maybe French, so you and Biba can translate recipes together? So many choices!

But I guess there’s time. Although it is shocking, as usual, that another month has flown by, for once I see the future stretching out before you more readily than I do the past. I love who you are and who you are becoming, and I am eager for each new shared experience. Happy four months, little friend. It is indeed a magical time.

I love you,

Mama

Dear Baby Girl/Boody Dooda/Chief Ridiculous/Doober Dees,

As your next “birthday” approached, everyone kept telling me that the 3-month-mark is known to be a huge milestone and a behavioral turning point. I can already see what they meant and I am excited to see what’s in store over the next month. As always, you have kept us enchanted with your ever-expanding repertoire and abilities. You’re an amazing little sponge and it’s so fun to watch you absorb new information every day. Here are some of your latest antics:

You’re standing! And your teeny little legs are surprisingly strong! You push off to get into the standing position no less than 10 times a day and you get frustrated if we don’t accommodate your desire to stand quickly enough.  Your legs will support your weight for several minutes at a time, and then you fall without warning like one of those plastic toys whose animal crumples into a heap at the press of a button. When you stand, you immediately look for a reaction and then you give us a huge, open-mouthed grin. Your daddy loves to proclaim, “You’re standing on your own two chickens!”

Not that they’re chickens anymore. Your legs are quite plump these days, and when you stretch them out straight each thigh has no less than 4 rolls. Part of it seems to be because they’re not growing at the rate of your torso. You’re an incredibly long baby (85th percentile or so), and your bag of outgrown clothing is rapidly filling up, but you have these short little legs! I mean, I know babies have short legs for their bodies, but yours seem like they might be exceptionally so. Long torso, short legs, chunky thighs…unfortunately, this sounds suspiciously like my body type. If you inherited it from me, I apologize in advance.

Speaking of my body, you recently realized that my breasts are actually connected to me. While nursing, you just randomly pop off and turn your head so as to study my face intently. Your expression when you do so is a mixture of  surprise and awe and bewilderment. You will just stare and stare until you finally break the ice with a heartwarming smile and maybe a coo. It’s both creepy and adorable. When your staring creeps me out I remind myself that you won’t be doing this forever and then it becomes adorable. You’ve also become quite a distractable nurser, popping off to look around, to locate a sound, to blurt out a few “ohs.” Forget any modesty on my end. I’d throw a nursing cover over the both of us, but you also now enjoy flailing your arm and kicking, so it really wouldn’t provide any coverage for more than a few seconds anyway.

Your language skills are taking off and you are blabbing the day away. You also like to join me when I sing. You mostly sound like you’re howling with “oooohs,” “ooooos,” and owwws,” but you’ve added some new consonants. I can recall hearing G,L,M, and H. Some words in Sylvie language include “ool,” “goo,” “umma,” and “ho.” You still like to punctuate all this with a sound that’s a cross between squealing and inhaling. We call it “speaking whale.”

So, now you’re a whale. No longer a rhino. You completely stopped the grunting and I really don’t even remember when it happened. You just don’t do it anymore. I miss your rhino sounds, although not really at 5 a.m. Oh, and lately you’re also a pug. You snuffle whenever you get excited or are concentrating. When I read you a book, I sometimes need to raise my voice just to hear myself over your snuffle-fest. So, you’re a pug-whale: an interesting combination. I’m not sure we’re going to find artwork depicting this, so I think we’ll just leave the rhino painting up on the wall for now.

I finally figured out that you can only stay awake for two hours at a time. Apparently this is typical baby behavior. You didn’t give me much time to read parenting books for the first two months, so I had no idea. Having a schedule is making it a lot easier to know your next move and we’re now finally getting a nap schedule down. You only nap for 20-45 minutes, though, and you wind up taking 5 and sometimes 6 naps in a day. We’ll work on that.

You’re still a great night sleeper, but last week you mysteriously started protesting being put down for bed. And it’s been some real drama, too, that requires us to shush and rub and soothe you down. All after 12 glorious weeks of no complaints. Now we’re scared that we’ve missed the golden window of opportunity to move you into your crib and the transition is going to be hard. We have set an official move date for this Thursday, and we’re hoping that you’re at least somewhat settled in there by the end of Labor Day weekend. Oh, my little girl, I’m going to miss having you next to me so much!

When I’m helping you go to sleep, I often sing you my completely butchered version of “Hush, Little Baby.” I started singing it one day as a desperate attempt to settle you down, but realized I didn’t know the words, so I quickly made up some pretty silly lyrics. It worked so well that I was singing this version the day after that and the day after that…before I knew it, my version had become completely entrenched in my mind. I think I might actually have the first two lines right, but then it gets downright ridiculous. It goes like this:

Hush, little baby. Don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.
If that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
If that diamond ring don’t shine, mama’s gonna buy you a porcupine.
If that porcupine don’t poke, mama’s gonna buy you an artichoke.
If that artichoke’s not good, mama’s gonna buy you a shirt with a hood.
If that shirt with a hood’s not soft, mama’s gonna buy you a Davis Square Loft.

Your daddy always takes you for a few minutes in the morning so I can get a bit more sleep after being up with you in the middle of the night. What a fabulous daddy. He says you always give him the biggest, cutest smiles in the morning and that it’s his favorite part of the day.

In the past month, you managed to discover all of your limbs and their many uses. You are an expert at the Kick and Play seat now, and you’re also playfully batting at dangling toys on your Gymini. You enjoy holding  onto something while you’re in your stroller. You can suck your thumb with relative ease, and you are capable of pushing your Wubbanub back in your mouth if it starts to fall out. The downside to your newfound awareness is that you’ve developed this strange habit of smacking and scratching  me in a rhythmic fashion while you nurse. You also hit yourself in the head sometimes. I hope these little explorations get boring fast.

Finally, you giggled for the first time on August 20th. You did it three times and got a whole lot of fanfare and were very excited. But then you forgot how to do it. You grinned and opened your mouth wide, but no sound would come out. We’re still waiting for the return of the giggle. The sound was utterly magical, and its return will be worth the wait.

Well, my little love, you’ve been a very busy baby this past month. You’re constantly changing and growing and I’m so proud of you. I’m trying to do my best to remember to savor and capture and relish every moment. It really is furiously fast and fleeting. As always, I love you with all my heart.

Big kisses all over your little face,

Mom

Happy 2-month birthday! Time certainly keeps marching on, doesn’t it? My precious baby girl’s age can now be described in terms of months, not just weeks. Wow. We finally designed your birth announcement tonight. It’s a little late (OK, a lot), but we got to include some smiles since we waited so long. Hopefully we can send them out next week.

Even though my last letter to you was only three weeks ago, you’ve already changed drastically in that short period of time. Let me tell you some things about your latest self:

You are an incredibly happy baby in the morning. When the alarm goes off, if you’re not already draped across my chest, I peer over at you in your co-sleeper as soon as I open my eyes. Your little body clad in footie pajamas and possibly a “sleep sack” (which makes you look like an adorable sack of potatoes) is almost more cuteness than I can bear. And usually you’re already awake and you start smiling as soon as you see me. As tired as I might be at that moment, I instantly wake up and am overcome with the urge to giggle and smother you with kisses.

You picked your own bedtime. We realized you were passing out for the night by 8:00 or 8:30, so we followed your lead and instituted a routine. Now we do a bath, PJs, a story, and a little nursing “nightcap” before laying you in your co-sleeper. You can scarcely keep your eyes open by the time we head into the room.

Relatedly, you are a champion sleeper at night. In fact, I won’t post how many hours you typically do in one stretch most nights, because I think I might lose friends that way. Because you are sleeping well, we are already thinking of moving you into your crib this weekend. Get while the getting’s good, or something like that. Although the teacher in me thinks it’s wise to continue to follow your lead and build from it, the mommy in me wants to cry thinking about you being so far from me at night. I will probably end up on the pull-out couch in your room for a little while.

You make up for the nighttime sleeps by refusing to be put down during the day. You’re perfectly content and pleasant as long as you’re held pretty much every second. Since this is clearly not always a reality, you wind up having many fussy moments. It’s not necessarily limited to the evenings anymore, either. It seems like every day you need to have one big inconsolable cry. Last week it was at the Somerville Moms group. Nice first impression you made.

You have a strong personality the rest of the time, too. You’re predominantly alert and intense – staring intently at objects and people as you work to make sense of them. In that way you haven’t changed much since birth. The rest of the time you’re a smiley leg-kicking coo-fest. That’s my favorite.

You are seeing much further and more clearly now. You zero in on people’s faces who are several feet from you, and you even recently surprised me by smiling at me in a pitch-dark room. You’re also very interested in looking at your surroundings these days. Lately you’ve been into the posters we have hanging throughout the house.

You continue to impress people with your gross motor skills. People who know what they’re talking about, too, like pediatricians. You can now push your head and a bit of your chest up off the floor with your arms and look around. You can also hold your head up by yourself while being supported at the ribcage. Your head bobs everywhere and you look like an utter drunk doing it, but you can do it! You’re still working on the finer points of thumb sucking, though. Although you can usually get some part of your hand into your mouth, it currently consists of a lot of flailing and slobber everywhere.

I think you’ve figured out your Kick and Play seat. I know it’s probably way too early for the textbook cause-and-effect reasoning, and I’m probably just one of those moms who is desperately trying to attribute genius to her child’s actions, but it really does seem like you are deliberately kicking your feet to produce the music. Your Daddy says I’m reading too much into it and you’re just a spaz.

You’re very sweaty, as far as babies go. You sweat when you eat, sleep, and cry. Especially when you cry. You certainly didn’t get that from me.

You continue to have a good appetite and eat every two hours or so during the day. It’s a good thing you’re an efficient nurser or we’d be doing it all day. I can always tell how hungry you are by how wide you open your mouth. You’re like a baby bird. Unfortunately, you’re not as good at telling us you’re full. About twice a week you overeat or eat too fast and throw back up the entire contents of your stomach. Even though you’re usually covered in vomit and it’s dripping out of your nose, you seem completely unphased by this. We, on the other hand, are not huge fans of this.

You are approximately 3 pounds heavier than when you were born. And you’re quite a bit longer. You’ll get officially weighed and measured in two days. I’ve had to start a bag of clothes entitled “outgrown.” Every time I have to place something in there, I get sad remembering when you wore it and how little you were just a few weeks ago. The first thing to go in was your yellow ducky pajamas with feet. You wore those every night for your first week. So precious and tiny.

You’re starting to hold conversations with us now. You say “la” and “ah” and “ghhoo,” punctuated by throaty squeals. Even your cries often sound more like talking now. You often get so excited by this exchange that you start panting before you produce the sounds. You also pant like this when an adult reads you a book.

We’ve finally started using cloth diapers on you. They’re much bulkier than disposables, and you wind up with your legs splayed. Your silhouette is also a lot more, shall we say, full-figured in cloth. You don’t seem to mind either of these changes and you’re much more of a green baby now. Some of the diapers and covers are pretty darned cute, too.

I just noticed your hair whorl the other day. Actually, make that “whorls.” You’re one of the rare 2-5% of the population that has two hair whorls at the top of their head. This is sometimes called a “double crown.” In your case, the hair swirls clockwise in one whorl and counter-clockwise in the other. It looks like two intersecting tornados. No wonder your hair is so wild! Some people believe a double crown is good luck. In Japanese culture, children who are born with this trait are said to be rascals. Chinese lore says that you will have a stubborn and wild personality. I wouldn’t be surprised. In the scientific community, counterclockwise whorls have been found to be associated with left-handedness. Again, I wouldn’t be surprised – half of your family are lefties. I’m excited to find out!

I can’t believe how many changes in such a short time! Keep on growing and developing and learning, baby girl…but don’t do it too fast!

All my love,

Mom