My sweet baby girl,
Well, we've made it. An entire year. They said it'd fly by... and it did. So quickly. Never again will I hear your tiny, whimpering infant cries - now you've got a full-bodied bellow, and you aren't afraid to use those lungs to get what you need. Your tiny body has morphed into the squirmy, purposeful limbs of a near-toddler. You move with determination and a hint of grace; when you pause and point a tiny toe into the air all ballerina-esque, my heart flutters a little.
So you're growing. It kind of hit me really hard at the beginning of April when I was subbing. I was in a class of kindergarten students, and I realized that it would be four short years before you'd be in a kindergarten classroom, interacting with a bevy of peers, speaking full sentences, maybe even being told to stop sucking your thumb! by your teacher during naptime (but probably not - you thankfully haven't adopted that habit yet. And do they even have naptime anymore in kindergarten?)
After what seemed like the longest winter of our lives, the snow finally began melting and we were given the opportunity to explore our big, beautiful acreage. I don't know where the energy came from - probably from being cooped up all winter - but your mama decided to finally get some work done on previously much-ignored flowerbeds. You loved being outside as Mama cleaned the beds and pruned the trees. You were so content to just sit on the grass and pat your hands around you, bringing whatever twig or dead leaf you found within reach to your mouth (although you've gotten much, much better at distinguishing between food and non-edible things.) We even picked up a couple of kittens for you to play with, but the owls or hawks have since claimed them as their own. You'd grab those little black kittens by the tail and joyfully whip them around. And the funny thing? They loved it. They'd mew, scramble away, and easily return to you for more playtime.
You began really turning on the cute this month; I wasn't prepared for that. When my friend Donna came to visit, you'd crawl up to her, scoot your butt up against her, and lie back slowly, eyelashes fluttering, smile spreading slowly across your mouth. Then you'd scamper away, smile, and do it all over again. You love clowning like that. You especially love it after your bath, when Daddy throws you on the bed buck naked. I didn't know babies have crazy time like cats do, you know, that "witching hour" in the evening. But you'll flip and turn and somersault and even smash your head into the wall at the head of our bed. And you squeal and clap and you love it so much (although I have a little inkling that your daddy might enjoy it even more.) What is it about a beautiful naked baby doing crazy flops on a bed that is just so endearing?
Speaking of turning on the cute, you have this little white Adirondack chair that you can't get enough of. I bought it for you on a whim at Toys R Us, and when I brought it in the house, you immediately began investigating it. You're like that - when something is new to you, you spend some time examining it, checking it out, then slowly but surely you begin engaging with it. After this discovery process with the chair, you were sitting in it and removing yourself from it over and over and over. You could spend an hour sitting in and getting out of that little chair. Sometimes, when you're a little bit exhausted from this venture, you grab your sippy cup, lay back in the chair, take a big sigh and drink away your thirst. How much cuter can you possibly get?
Sidebar: Things I Never Knew About Babies Until I Had My Own. I never knew it was possible for babies to get bored. You, however, taught your mama and daddy very quickly that toys are boring, and anything not meant to be a toy is awesome. Your chair, for instance. Not a toy. But you love it. A cardboard box? Yup, awesome. Paper towel roll? Check. Dish towels? Get me some of those! A metal strainer? Gimme gimme gimme!
The last week of your first year on this earth was a special one: Mama went on a trip to Banff, so you got to spend the entire weekend with Dada. And you were amazing. You took your bottles of whole milk without complaint, you were charming and cute, and you even slept through the night (something that's been happening more often than not these days - finally! And thank you!) You broke your mama's heart when she returned from the trip, though: instead of scampering to her like you usually do after a day apart, you looked her up and down, then pointed out the window. Cue: sounds of a mother's heart shattering into a million pieces. I shared my feelings about this with some other moms, and they assured me that it's nothing to worry about; you were just getting back at me for leaving you for (gasp!) two entire days.
Well, birthday girl, here's to an amazing year. We all survived, your mama and dada barely, but we did it. And I wouldn't change a single moment of the past year for anything in the world. My baby blessing, here's to many, many more wonderful years.
I love you!
Love,
Mama
