Oops! I wrote this about 2 weeks ago in Google Documents, and forgot to actually post it here. It isn't the most lyrical of letters, it's more just a list of milestones and what she's been up to. This can be explained by the fact that her sleep situation has been worse than ever the past month. Being tired and frustrated was not conducive to sentimental writing, at least not the good kind of sentiment.
____________________________
Dear Annika,
You've had several major conquests this month. You learned to climb stairs at Daniel and Sarah's house, where carpet makes it easier, and then applied the knowledge to our stairs at home. You're not so sure about going down, though; you still have a tendency to either cry for a rescue, or try to turn around and go down headfirst.
You have an official first word: cat. Though it usually comes out more like "kaa" or "kit" or "kita".
You've learned to take bites of food - apples and bananas, crackers, and so forth.
You learned how to give Mama a kiss on request... at least when you happen to feel like it, which is about a third of the time that I ask.
At the very end of the month, you learned how to stand unsupported for a few seconds before you fall over or grab hold of something.
You now have a cell phone of your very own to play with, thanks to Rob and Jen - they gave you an old one of theirs, and though it won't make any phone calls it does light up, make noise, open and close. You like to hold it to your mouth and talk to an imaginary friend; the greeting of choice is "goo-GA!"
When we're reading a picture book to you, you like to point at the pictures. But if I try to tell you what each picture is as you point to it, I have trouble keeping up - you like to point to all the pictures on the page in rapid succession.
You like to grab someone else's hands and clap them together; you can clap your own hands together but because they're smaller, it is harder to make an impressive amount of noise that way. In fact, anything that DOES make an impressive amount of noise is dear to your heart - pots and pans, any hard surface that you can drum on, anything that you can throw or drop to make a crash, and several electronic toys with buttons you can push to produce noise.
You've figured out how to open cabinets, and then how to open drawers, but you haven't figured out how to avoid getting your fingers pinched when you close the drawer again. And you couldn't understand why, when you found the box of toothpicks in a kitchen drawer, I wouldn't let you play with them. As I frantically tried to sweep them up, you kept trying to "help" by grabbing some of them yourself.
Taking things out of containers and putting them back in is a lot of fun, but somehow when you "put away" the clothes that you removed from your dresser, they're not quite in the same order they were before.
You still don't like to go to sleep at night, you don't like it when Mama goes away (even if it's just to the bathroom), and you still don't like having to get dressed.
Love,
Mama
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Matching Chameleon Sweaters
So one day it happened that Irene and Annika wore sweaters of the same color; a very soft yellow. It was incredibly cute, but the interesting part was that they also matched the wall in the eat-in part of our kitchen! So I couldn't resist. Oh... and also a picture of Annika in her new room.
Friday, February 6, 2009
10 months
Dear Annika,
The 10th month of your life was a busy one. Sometimes it was fun; sometimes not quite. You went with us to Oregon in mid-January to see the West Coast side of the family and go skiing. Well, the grown-ups went skiing, anyway. You got to do plenty of other fun things. You liked the airport; so many people, so many things to see! Waiting for our flight west, I let you explore the gate area. There was an old shoe-shine fellow across the corridor who thought you were very charming, and coaxed you to crawl over and visit with him. You like people, as long as they don't try to take you away from Mama. On the flight, you cried a bit when your ears hurt, but otherwise you were happy to destroy the SkyMall catalog and the flight magazine, drum on the tray, and play "let's try to remove Dad's glasses". You were tired as hell when we got to great-grandma Lillian's house, but with all the family assembled there, all eager to make you the center of attention, and a bunch of new toys on the floor, you wouldn't even consider going to sleep. You discovered that when someone builds a tower of stacking cups, it's a great rush to knock it over. What a lesson for a baby to learn - "destruction is fun!" But at 10 months, anything that keeps a kid's attention focused on something harmless is easily rationalized.
The next day we went to Bend, and settled into the rental house. You immediately liked it for the wide-open floor plan of the living room/dining area/kitchen, and amused yourself by zipping across the floor from one end to the other. Pulling up on the couch and coffee table also gave you a thrill. You got to hang out with Anne the first day there, then went to Smith Rock the second day, played with uncle Alex on the third day, and with Grandma Karin on the last day. We thought this would be your first experience with snow, but in fact the weather was unseasonably warm and there was no snow to be had in Bend. When your dad and uncle Ben were sitting around the coffee table with their computers, you finally had one of these interesting toys within reach. Pretty soon, you learned that if you smack your hand down on the keyboard, usually something happens on the computer screen. And anyone who intervened on behalf of the computer's safety was asking for an earful of high-pitched screeching indicating your displeasure.
All in all, it was a great trip, and we won't dwell on how it completely disrupted your sleep schedule, or how for the rest of the month after we got back, you've had a nice continuous string of colds, stomach bugs, and ear infections. The doctor's office is so familiar now I could probably get there in my sleep. Oh, and teething too. I suppose it's a good thing for a human to acquire teeth rather than being born with them, but really, come on. There's gotta be a better way.
We finally finished your bedroom - curtains and quarter-round and a soft purple rug. I got white flower-shaped wall mounted lights at Ikea, and I'm amazed and gratified that you actually like them. I figured you'd ignored them until you turned 10, at which point you'd announce that you were a big girl and flower lights were for babies. But when you see them, you grin and reach out to touch them. I'm not so great with decorating, but just this once I feel like I scored top marks.
I think my favorite moment of this month, though, was the one that spoke to my deepest heart of hearts, my innermost core. Namely, the geeky bookworm. We were sitting on the floor in your nursery room, and you were flipping the pages of "At The Zoo." But you were holding it upside down, and you seemed aware that something wasn't right but you couldn't figure out how to fix it. So I held out my hand and said "Do you want me to read you the book?" And you looked up at me, and somewhere a choir of angels started singing, and you handed me the book. The confluence of developmental accomplishments in that simple movement was incredible - it was the first time that you've deliberately given me an object, the first time that you clearly showed an understanding that a book is more than just random colors, shapes and textures, the first time that you made the conceptual leap that sometimes in order to get something, you have to give something, and that someone else could do something for you that you can't do on your own. So I pulled you into my lap, and read to you, and - another small miracle - you didn't try to grab the book away, or flip the pages in your own preferred order.
And then I woke up.
Just kidding. It really did happen, though I hardly believed it at the time. You've also let me read "Happy Baby Alphabet" straight through, but for some reason "Goodnight Moon" just doesn't do it for you. Hasn't anyone informed you that it's a timeless classic?
Some other games you've discovered or invented this month - rolling a raquetball from me to you and back again, grabbing my thumbs and using them to clap my hands together, and "reorganizing" the contents of your clothes dresser by pulling every single item of clothing out and tossing it on the floor. This last exercise amuses me, in part because I can't figure out any reason to do it other than for the sake of entropy itself; it's not as if you're interested in playing with the clothes, or expecting to find any toys in there.
Another great game you've found is torturing our gray cat Selena. This kitty deserves to be elevated to sainthood - she puts up with having her ears twisted, her tail pulled, her fur yanked out, and her body squished under yours. And all the while, she purrs. I worry that she's giving you a very misleading picture of how cats like to be treated, and I try to explain and show you how to be gentle, but you just push my hands out of the way. I'm sure sooner or later, some other cat will set you straight. When they do, I'll clean up the mess and try not to say "I told you so."
Love,
Mama
The 10th month of your life was a busy one. Sometimes it was fun; sometimes not quite. You went with us to Oregon in mid-January to see the West Coast side of the family and go skiing. Well, the grown-ups went skiing, anyway. You got to do plenty of other fun things. You liked the airport; so many people, so many things to see! Waiting for our flight west, I let you explore the gate area. There was an old shoe-shine fellow across the corridor who thought you were very charming, and coaxed you to crawl over and visit with him. You like people, as long as they don't try to take you away from Mama. On the flight, you cried a bit when your ears hurt, but otherwise you were happy to destroy the SkyMall catalog and the flight magazine, drum on the tray, and play "let's try to remove Dad's glasses". You were tired as hell when we got to great-grandma Lillian's house, but with all the family assembled there, all eager to make you the center of attention, and a bunch of new toys on the floor, you wouldn't even consider going to sleep. You discovered that when someone builds a tower of stacking cups, it's a great rush to knock it over. What a lesson for a baby to learn - "destruction is fun!" But at 10 months, anything that keeps a kid's attention focused on something harmless is easily rationalized.
The next day we went to Bend, and settled into the rental house. You immediately liked it for the wide-open floor plan of the living room/dining area/kitchen, and amused yourself by zipping across the floor from one end to the other. Pulling up on the couch and coffee table also gave you a thrill. You got to hang out with Anne the first day there, then went to Smith Rock the second day, played with uncle Alex on the third day, and with Grandma Karin on the last day. We thought this would be your first experience with snow, but in fact the weather was unseasonably warm and there was no snow to be had in Bend. When your dad and uncle Ben were sitting around the coffee table with their computers, you finally had one of these interesting toys within reach. Pretty soon, you learned that if you smack your hand down on the keyboard, usually something happens on the computer screen. And anyone who intervened on behalf of the computer's safety was asking for an earful of high-pitched screeching indicating your displeasure.
All in all, it was a great trip, and we won't dwell on how it completely disrupted your sleep schedule, or how for the rest of the month after we got back, you've had a nice continuous string of colds, stomach bugs, and ear infections. The doctor's office is so familiar now I could probably get there in my sleep. Oh, and teething too. I suppose it's a good thing for a human to acquire teeth rather than being born with them, but really, come on. There's gotta be a better way.
We finally finished your bedroom - curtains and quarter-round and a soft purple rug. I got white flower-shaped wall mounted lights at Ikea, and I'm amazed and gratified that you actually like them. I figured you'd ignored them until you turned 10, at which point you'd announce that you were a big girl and flower lights were for babies. But when you see them, you grin and reach out to touch them. I'm not so great with decorating, but just this once I feel like I scored top marks.
I think my favorite moment of this month, though, was the one that spoke to my deepest heart of hearts, my innermost core. Namely, the geeky bookworm. We were sitting on the floor in your nursery room, and you were flipping the pages of "At The Zoo." But you were holding it upside down, and you seemed aware that something wasn't right but you couldn't figure out how to fix it. So I held out my hand and said "Do you want me to read you the book?" And you looked up at me, and somewhere a choir of angels started singing, and you handed me the book. The confluence of developmental accomplishments in that simple movement was incredible - it was the first time that you've deliberately given me an object, the first time that you clearly showed an understanding that a book is more than just random colors, shapes and textures, the first time that you made the conceptual leap that sometimes in order to get something, you have to give something, and that someone else could do something for you that you can't do on your own. So I pulled you into my lap, and read to you, and - another small miracle - you didn't try to grab the book away, or flip the pages in your own preferred order.
And then I woke up.
Just kidding. It really did happen, though I hardly believed it at the time. You've also let me read "Happy Baby Alphabet" straight through, but for some reason "Goodnight Moon" just doesn't do it for you. Hasn't anyone informed you that it's a timeless classic?
Some other games you've discovered or invented this month - rolling a raquetball from me to you and back again, grabbing my thumbs and using them to clap my hands together, and "reorganizing" the contents of your clothes dresser by pulling every single item of clothing out and tossing it on the floor. This last exercise amuses me, in part because I can't figure out any reason to do it other than for the sake of entropy itself; it's not as if you're interested in playing with the clothes, or expecting to find any toys in there.
Another great game you've found is torturing our gray cat Selena. This kitty deserves to be elevated to sainthood - she puts up with having her ears twisted, her tail pulled, her fur yanked out, and her body squished under yours. And all the while, she purrs. I worry that she's giving you a very misleading picture of how cats like to be treated, and I try to explain and show you how to be gentle, but you just push my hands out of the way. I'm sure sooner or later, some other cat will set you straight. When they do, I'll clean up the mess and try not to say "I told you so."
Love,
Mama
Monday, January 5, 2009
8 and 9 months
Dear Annika,
I didn't quite manage to write a letter for you last month, so this one is for the past two months combined.
At the beginning of your 8th month, we went to West Virginia for a weekend to meet our friends Lisa and Jeff, and Molly with her three Jack Russell terriers. We stayed in an A-frame cabin just outside the town of Berkeley Springs. I was somewhat surprised to find that there really are springs there, with a long history of use by those seeking health and pleasure. We didn't actually use the springs, but we went hiking, visited some shops downtown, played Star Wars Trivia at the cabin, and generally enjoyed spending time with friends. You were delighted by the dogs, and for the most part they seemed to like you, too. You got plenty of doggy kisses, and had fun crawling around on the floor after them.
By the time Thanksgiving came, you had gotten pretty good at eating small pieces of grown-up food - and in fact, you ate a nearly complete Thanksgiving dinner off of my fingertips. Two Thanksgiving dinners, rather; one at Grandma and Grandpa Karel's house, and one at the Khavin's. I was thrilled that you were so willing to try any sort of food that came your way - I'd like to think that it means you will be an adventurous and unfussy eater all your life, but I know that as a toddler you will probably feel the need to express strong opinions about everything, including food.
Already, you have strong opinions about a number of things: the undesirability of getting dressed and changed; having to take medicine from a dropper; the acceptability of baby food when there is "real" food to be had; the way that Mommy should read books to you. You don't have much use yet for books as stories, but you love to look at the pictures, and preferably to turn the pages yourself. You'll spend a while on your own just sitting with a book and flipping from the front cover, to a page inside, to the back cover, to another page inside. Sometimes, you will let me read to you, even though I do it all wrong.
For the past month or so, one of your favorite pastimes is to bang with your hands on any surface that makes noise, or even some that don't. Your dad seems to be succeeding in his goal of teaching you to be a drummer; already you can alternate drumming with each hand in rapid succession. I'm still hoping that maybe you will opt for piano or guitar instead. You love playing with dad's acoustic guitar, or with the piano at Grandma and Grandpa's place. Or, maybe you will sing - that seems to be your favorite way of soothing yourself to sleep.
One weekend in December, we went to visit Daniel and Sarah, and you had a great time playing their keyboard, crawling around chasing a laser-dot, frightening their cat, and reading books. Here are some photos and videos that Daniel got (some earlier, most from the recent visit) http://www.flickr.com/photos/3e/sets/72157611305385180/
When we went to Grandma and Grandpa Khavin's house for Grandma Yelena's birthday (which also happens to be Christmas Day), of course you got lots of attention from everyone. Uncle Igor's dog Sammy is very fond of you - she licks your feet, gives you "kisses", and whenever you cry, she acts very worried.
For New Year's Eve, you dad and I went up to New Jersey, but you stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Karel. I'm sure you would have lobbied to stay up and party past midnight, if only you could talk.
You're working on figuring out how to talk, I think. Recently, you started trying to say "cat" although it comes out more like "gaah". You often look at me and say something like, "goo-gah!" with such an expressive look that I'm certain you're trying to convey something and I'm just not getting it. The idea that your parents "just don't get it" starts well before the teenage years, evidently.
Love,
Mama
I didn't quite manage to write a letter for you last month, so this one is for the past two months combined.
At the beginning of your 8th month, we went to West Virginia for a weekend to meet our friends Lisa and Jeff, and Molly with her three Jack Russell terriers. We stayed in an A-frame cabin just outside the town of Berkeley Springs. I was somewhat surprised to find that there really are springs there, with a long history of use by those seeking health and pleasure. We didn't actually use the springs, but we went hiking, visited some shops downtown, played Star Wars Trivia at the cabin, and generally enjoyed spending time with friends. You were delighted by the dogs, and for the most part they seemed to like you, too. You got plenty of doggy kisses, and had fun crawling around on the floor after them.
By the time Thanksgiving came, you had gotten pretty good at eating small pieces of grown-up food - and in fact, you ate a nearly complete Thanksgiving dinner off of my fingertips. Two Thanksgiving dinners, rather; one at Grandma and Grandpa Karel's house, and one at the Khavin's. I was thrilled that you were so willing to try any sort of food that came your way - I'd like to think that it means you will be an adventurous and unfussy eater all your life, but I know that as a toddler you will probably feel the need to express strong opinions about everything, including food.
Already, you have strong opinions about a number of things: the undesirability of getting dressed and changed; having to take medicine from a dropper; the acceptability of baby food when there is "real" food to be had; the way that Mommy should read books to you. You don't have much use yet for books as stories, but you love to look at the pictures, and preferably to turn the pages yourself. You'll spend a while on your own just sitting with a book and flipping from the front cover, to a page inside, to the back cover, to another page inside. Sometimes, you will let me read to you, even though I do it all wrong.
For the past month or so, one of your favorite pastimes is to bang with your hands on any surface that makes noise, or even some that don't. Your dad seems to be succeeding in his goal of teaching you to be a drummer; already you can alternate drumming with each hand in rapid succession. I'm still hoping that maybe you will opt for piano or guitar instead. You love playing with dad's acoustic guitar, or with the piano at Grandma and Grandpa's place. Or, maybe you will sing - that seems to be your favorite way of soothing yourself to sleep.
One weekend in December, we went to visit Daniel and Sarah, and you had a great time playing their keyboard, crawling around chasing a laser-dot, frightening their cat, and reading books. Here are some photos and videos that Daniel got (some earlier, most from the recent visit) http://www.flickr.com/photos/3e/sets/72157611305385180/
When we went to Grandma and Grandpa Khavin's house for Grandma Yelena's birthday (which also happens to be Christmas Day), of course you got lots of attention from everyone. Uncle Igor's dog Sammy is very fond of you - she licks your feet, gives you "kisses", and whenever you cry, she acts very worried.
For New Year's Eve, you dad and I went up to New Jersey, but you stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Karel. I'm sure you would have lobbied to stay up and party past midnight, if only you could talk.
You're working on figuring out how to talk, I think. Recently, you started trying to say "cat" although it comes out more like "gaah". You often look at me and say something like, "goo-gah!" with such an expressive look that I'm certain you're trying to convey something and I'm just not getting it. The idea that your parents "just don't get it" starts well before the teenage years, evidently.
Love,
Mama
7 months, catching up
Some commentary before the monthly letter: admittedly, I fell off the news-posting bandwagon for two months. This is her 7-month letter, which I wrote down on time - just after the 2008 election - but didn't actually post until now.
*******************************************************
Dear Annika,
In your newsletters so far, I have focused on you to the exclusion of the rest of the world - what could be more important, after all, than a new baby? But this month, the amazing things that you have been doing should be set in the context of the amazing things happening in the rest of the world.
The year of your birth is turning out to be a very eventful one. At its beginning, while you were still in the womb, your father's beloved Giants won the Superbowl. The summer and fall brought the beginnings of a financial crisis that is still unfolding; it is said that it's the worst one since the Great Depression. Banks failed, and stock markets around the world plunged. For the city of Philadelphia, all of that was forgotten briefly on October 29th, when the Phillies won the World Series for the first time in 25 years. On November 4th, America elected Barack Obama as the nation's 44th persident. I hope that by the time you're reading these letters, there will seem nothing remarkable about a black person, or a woman, becoming president. I hope that you'll need a good imagination to picture an America where that wasn't possible. For the first time in eight years, I am optimistic that when you are my age, and you look back at what has happened in the world during your lifetime, you will see positive changes and progress.
Of course, you are a poster child for progress yourself, and when I come home and you hold out your arms to me, everything else is secondary.
This month, you discovered how to crawl, and you're delighted by your newfound mobility. Trena reports that you stood up for the first time this week - and promptly let go of the sofa you used to pull up, and fell over. Progress is not without its setbacks. But you don't give up easily, I've noticed, when there is something you want. Last night you wanted to drink from my water glass, so I let you try. You had some difficulties, kept trying to gulp too much at one time and ended up gasping and spluttering, but you kept eagerly leaning forward to try again, with a look of very intense concentration.
You're highly interested, in fact, in anything that grown-ups are drinking - water, coffee, orange juice, beer, soda. We've let you sneak a tiny taste of both coffee and beer - your Swedish great-grandmother Lillian was so delighted to hear that you liked coffee! We've also started tentatively trying to feed you foods that aren't pureed, but you're not very good at chewing. You like to try things that we're eating, but you tend to gag on anything with pieces too big to swallow easily. We figure you'll get there eventually, though.
Love,
Mama
*******************************************************
Dear Annika,
In your newsletters so far, I have focused on you to the exclusion of the rest of the world - what could be more important, after all, than a new baby? But this month, the amazing things that you have been doing should be set in the context of the amazing things happening in the rest of the world.
The year of your birth is turning out to be a very eventful one. At its beginning, while you were still in the womb, your father's beloved Giants won the Superbowl. The summer and fall brought the beginnings of a financial crisis that is still unfolding; it is said that it's the worst one since the Great Depression. Banks failed, and stock markets around the world plunged. For the city of Philadelphia, all of that was forgotten briefly on October 29th, when the Phillies won the World Series for the first time in 25 years. On November 4th, America elected Barack Obama as the nation's 44th persident. I hope that by the time you're reading these letters, there will seem nothing remarkable about a black person, or a woman, becoming president. I hope that you'll need a good imagination to picture an America where that wasn't possible. For the first time in eight years, I am optimistic that when you are my age, and you look back at what has happened in the world during your lifetime, you will see positive changes and progress.
Of course, you are a poster child for progress yourself, and when I come home and you hold out your arms to me, everything else is secondary.
This month, you discovered how to crawl, and you're delighted by your newfound mobility. Trena reports that you stood up for the first time this week - and promptly let go of the sofa you used to pull up, and fell over. Progress is not without its setbacks. But you don't give up easily, I've noticed, when there is something you want. Last night you wanted to drink from my water glass, so I let you try. You had some difficulties, kept trying to gulp too much at one time and ended up gasping and spluttering, but you kept eagerly leaning forward to try again, with a look of very intense concentration.
You're highly interested, in fact, in anything that grown-ups are drinking - water, coffee, orange juice, beer, soda. We've let you sneak a tiny taste of both coffee and beer - your Swedish great-grandmother Lillian was so delighted to hear that you liked coffee! We've also started tentatively trying to feed you foods that aren't pureed, but you're not very good at chewing. You like to try things that we're eating, but you tend to gag on anything with pieces too big to swallow easily. We figure you'll get there eventually, though.
Love,
Mama
Saturday, October 18, 2008
6 months
Dear Annika,
You’re beginning to scare me. I should get used to it, because this can only get worse before it gets better. A few days ago, you were on your hands and knees next to the coffee table, and you reached a hand up to the top of the coffee table to see what was up there. A few weeks ago, this was unimaginable; at the beginning of this month you weren’t getting up on all fours yet, and if we put you down that way, you’d just rock back and forth briefly and then get back down onto your belly. Now you're able to get up on all fours on your own, but you’re not sure what to do next once you’re there.
In the past weeks, in addition to all-fours and sitting independently, you’ve hit another milestone – you now distinguish strongly between strangers and family
Your 6-month appointment yesterday went well, except of course for the screaming bloody murder about getting your shots. Hopefully that trauma is counterbalanced by Dr. Lubell’s pronouncement that you are now allowed to have real grown-up food – bread, crackers, mushed-up fruits and veggies - and are allowed to eat meat. No more do you have to gaze longingly at our plates and be told “no” all the time. Unless we’re eating chocolate ice cream, in which case all the puppy-eyes you can manage will not get you a bite until you’re at least two. Because we’re the meanest parents in the world.
You’re 16 lbs 7 oz now, and 26 inches tall. I was certain you were at least 18 lbs, because whenever I have to carry you around a lot, my arms complain.
Speaking of complaints, we need to have a talk. About your sleeping habits. I’m very grateful that you now sleep through the night on a regular basis, more grateful than words can possibly express. This is wonderful, splendid, heavenly even. But does it HAVE to take an hour or more get you to sleep in the first place? Usually, it starts well. We settle down in the rocking chair together, you get a warm bottle, and we cuddle and rock and you start to doze off. But then something happens. Sometimes it happens when I deem you sufficiently asleep and try to put you down, sometimes it happens just as I start to think about but before I’ve even moved. Suddenly the process hits ‘reverse’ – your eyes flutter and then open, you start waving your arms and kicking your legs. Some nights you’re awake but content, cooing and gurgling at me as if you’re telling me all the things you did that day. And other nights, you’re cranky and restless, arching your back, pushing away from me, rubbing your eyes and whimpering because you're tired - but not about to fall asleep, no sirree. We usually go through at least one cycle of “falling asleep – waking back up – falling asleep again” before you’re down for the night. Sometimes Dad takes you for a car ride if all else fails, but we try to avoid that. I have a fear that you will develop a stubborn resistance to falling asleep ANY OTHER WAY than in the car.
But on the whole, I figure if this is my biggest complaint I should count myself very lucky.
Love,
Mama
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
5 months
Late as usual… pertains to this month’s newsletter, and all too often it’s the story of my life. I have high hopes for you that you’ll be more organized and punctual than I am; you got a good start by coming into the world a few days ahead of your due date. But I know that as your mama, I am only part of what shapes the person you are becoming. Some of who you are is built in, some is up to me and Dad, and some of it is the rest of the world.
So far, you’re quite the character already – you love me and your dad, and you show it by practically leaping out of other people’s arms to get one of us to hold you, but you also have an independent streak. Make that a wide, wide swath. Once you’ve been held and cuddled for a bit, you start squirming and pushing away from the shelter of loving arms, trying to win your freedom, to go exploring. You’re not crawling yet, but you seem almost ready. I’ve seen you raise yourself onto hands and knees, but once you’re up, you don’t know what to do next, so you look around, and then get back down on your tummy. You can roll with the greatest of ease, and pivot and creep around, so between one motion and another you manage to get into all kinds of places when my back is turned. One day I was in the kitchen making a bottle for you, and had placed you on your play mat. I came back to find that you were several feet away from the mat, gnawing on the leg of an end-table.
And it isn’t just exploring – you’re a thrillseeker as well. You love it when Daddy tosses you up in the air and catches you – whenever he does that, you grin from ear to ear and giggle. You love to be swung around, spun around, bounced around… anything that goes fast.
In Kira, you’ve found your first friend – if friendship means grabbing each other’s faces, sharing germs, babbling at each other, and crying in tandem. Now that she’s walking, she will probably set for you a whole new standard of how to find trouble.
When it comes to food, your lust for new experiences is somewhat tempered by the fact that, let’s face it, baby food from a jar is not especially delicious stuff. But your first food was rice cereal, and while I expected that your first taste of it would elicit a “yuck!” face and ejection of the offending substance… I was half right. Most of your first meal did end up on your shirt, but not from lack of enthusiasm on your part. You instantly fell in love with cereal, with the very idea of eating “real” food. I have video to prove it. You can’t resist grabbing the spoon and taking control, even though I suspect you have figured out that it’s not the most effective way to actually get food into your tummy. So far, your solid food repertoire consists of rice, oatmeal, peas, green beans, and sweet potatoes. You ate all of the above reasonably happily, but the green beans were definitely not your favorite. I have tasted all of the baby foods before I fed them to you, and I have to say I agree with you. The peas are tolerable, the sweet potatoes are good, but the green beans are pretty awful. You can’t win ‘em all.
Love,
Mama
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