Baby B

Dear Sylvie (at 10 months)

April 19, 2010 at 11:09 pm

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

By phillygil | Posted in Dear Sylvie