motherhood – Page 2 – Angel Wheeler

Responsibility/Chore/To-do Charts for Preschoolers–A Pinterest WIN

It seems I have a love/hate relationship with Pinterest. Anyone else?

I love all the “stuff” it offers, the great ideas, the pictures of beautiful places, the words of wisdom it imparts. Like this one:

One of my favorites.

But I hate all the other”stuff” about it. The pressure it exerts to be the perfect, cutesy mom and do all the perfect, cutesy crafts; the outfits that look adorable and amazing on the model but will never look like that on me; the guilt I feel because it sucks my life right into it’s Pinteresty little claws and leaves me wondering where my day has gone and if I’ve fed my kid.

But today I’m feeling the love kind of day for Pinterest.

Today I have an Ode to Pinterest. A very short Ode.

(clears throat)
Pinterest, oh Pinterest, how I adore thee
After 973 failed experiments ,
One finally worked
Yippee!

I attempted a chore chart for my pre-schooler. Technically a chore chart, but casually called a to-do list because that really sounds so much more grown up.

You see my biggest fear, my greatest ambition, my strongest drive as a mom is simply not to screw my kid up. That’s all I want. Really. I just want her to grow to be a well-adjusted, responsible, kind human “bean” that does a little bit of good in this world and casts a little light in a dark place. Is that too much to ask?

I’m trying my hardest to keep her from being an ingrate. An entitled, rude, spoiled rotten brat. Uh…it’s not really going so good some days.

It seems simple doesn’t it? Give her lots of love, boost her self-esteem, teach her manners and responsibility, don’t spoil her. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve read all the articles.

On Pinterest.

But it’s so much harder than that. Because this little human that I’m trying so desperately not to screw up, has a mind and a will of her own. And because there comes a time that your smart little girl who you’ve praised her entire life for being so smart turns into a little argumentative know-it-all in pigtails because she really believes she KNOWS IT ALL. And whose fault is that? (All heads turn toward me).

Just trying to build her up and not tear her down and what have I created?

So that’s when I have to take a deep breath and just keep on keeping on.

Side note: to all you parents of teenagers out there—-I really don’t need to hear the “oh you just wait. These are the easy years. It only gets harder” crap. That’s not exactly words of encouragement, in case you didn’t know.

Now onto the chore chart/to-do list.
I stumbled across it on Pinterest and thought I’d give it a try. Today was our first day with it and it worked beautifully! It was almost a game. A wonderful thing I tell ya.

Responsibility Chart/To-Do for Preschoolers

I used this person’s idea

but instead of using a clipboard, I used a cutting mat because it’s what was here at the moment I got this wild hair.

I found the picture cards here
http://www.homeschoolcreations.net/2015/03/preschool-chore-charts-2/

These are awesome and have lots and lots of options for all age kids.

We went through looking and reading all the pictures and then I put four on her chart (not the four in the picture because I decided to take a pic after the fact and those just happened to be the four I grabbed.

She carried her chart around with her keeping track of her to-do’s (wished I’d gotten a picture of that), moving them to the DONE column as she finished. She was so proud. We added four more and she worked so hard to complete those too.

It was so fun, I think I’ll make myself one and I’m not even kidding. There’s just something about seeing those colored pictures and moving them to the DONE side that’s better than crossing out a to-do list, and I do despise a to-do list.

The most fun was the “pick up 25 things card”. There are always things out of place around here. Hair ties. Markers. Books. We made it a little race to see who could get 25 things put away first.

I used velcro for our chart, and the velcro kept peeling off the laminated cards so I’ll probably have to add a little super glue. I think using magnets on a cookie sheet would also work really well.

I’m going to adjust ours and use it three times a day. Once for her morning routine, once for her chores, and once for her bedtime routine.

Hopefully the eagerness on her part will continue and the consistency on my part will as well. Let me know if you try this, how it works out.

When Motherhood Becomes a Battle…….the Side I Choose

We danced in the rain, arms outstretched, face upwards.

We water-colored and crayon colored.

We cooked and sang.

We kicked a soccer ball and practiced writing the letter S.

We read books and looked for hidden objects in the pictures.

There are a million things my mind tells me I should be doing. Like packing to move 400? miles away. And cleaning the house. And fulfilling commitments that I promised I would do. I should be doing laundry and keeping a more daily skin regimen and I should not be eating icing from the can with a spoon.

I sneak in my “Me” moments, (which are not “Me” moments at all, but just the stuff you have to do to keep life running) at times when I can. I try so hard to balance the attention I give her with the other things that need my attention. Am I harming her more than helping, I can’t help but wonder. Will she turn into one of those entitled, selfish brats that I read so many articles about because of my “overparenting”?

Those are the things my mind tells me. And my heart tells me that sticky fingers do indeed wash and wearing the same jeans two days in a row is not the end of the world. That knowing she is loved and cared for is truly more important, isn’t it? Isn’t it the most important? My heart tells me this time with my daughter is short; shorter than I realize. I have friends posting graduation pictures of their children on social media, and I count the years remaining. Fifteen. I actually count those years more often than I should. Fifteen years until I can have an uninterrupted conversation with my husband. Fifteen years until I can sleep late again. Fifteen years until I can go to the bathroom without someone barging in. Actually, I have way less than fifteen, I know.

Motherhood is such a battle at times. Your heart battles your mind. Your shoulds battle your should nots. Your selfishness battles your self-sacrifice.

Some days I wish it were easier. I wish that I could be assured that everything I’m doing is right and good and that this little person is going to grow up with fond memories of family and fun and me. That she will possess responsibility, integrity, morals, and high standards. That she will grow up self-sufficient and independent, yet never act arrogant nor pretentious. That she will grow up and know love, and be able to show love to others. I choose to give her my time and my attention. I choose to help her know she is important and she matters. Only time will tell if I’m doing it all wrong.

We picked a fluffy dandelion and she asked me what I wish for. I looked into her deep brown eyes and said I already have everything I could ever need. I wish for her wishes to come true. She looked around the yard and saw her purple chair and said she wishes for a purple chair.

Perhaps we both already have everything we need.

That’s what I hope.
Visit Angel’s profile on Pinterest.

All About EK

I’ve got two reasons for this post.

1) my kid is darling

2) I occasionally run into ‘online’ friends face to face who say they miss seeing my kid on Facebook.

Okay three reasons

3) I need to document the cute, funny, wise, serious things she says and does, and the baby book isn’t cutting it.

So for starters, here’s a pic or two.

She wants to be Snow White for Halloween. Her costume came in and of course I let her try it on.

The problem is, I’m not sure if I snapped a picture of Snow White or Elvis.

I love this picture of her. Even though her eyes are closed. Even though she’s itching her cheek and her dress is dirty. Even though my thumb is in the picture and I didn’t have enough sense to crop it before I posted it. I still love this picture. This is beside our house in a “field” of wildflowers. But we call it the Bear Forest.

She has so many funny things that she says. People tell me I won’t remember and heck, I know that’s true.

This week, I took a piece of paper and pen and decided to write down some of the stuff she says. Some of these, I’ll have to set the scene, and it may be they turn out to be a “you had to be there” moment. But I was, so trust me, it was cute when it happened. Or I wouldn’t have written it down.

Scene 1:

She loves to play with my phone and I’m one of those moms that let her. She calls people, texts people, and I’m sure annoys the crap out of people. She will blow up your phone with emojis. String after string of them.

After sending a text, she said, “I sent daddy a text. He got it in his pocket.”

Scene 2:

She’s a thinker. Always trying to put things in their proper category.

“Why did an old lady live in a shoe? She’s supposed to live in a house!”

Scene 3:

We had some friends come and visit for a couple of days and they happened to have some movies with them. One of them was Beauty and the Beast. EK had never seen it, but she knows all about the princesses, I can assure you. We watched that movie and of course when they left, they took it with them. The other day (months later) she was sitting on the potty….

Her: I wish I had the Belle movie.
Me: Maybe you can get it for Christmas. Maybe you could ask Santa Claus for it?
Her: Maybe Santa will go grab that movie from Suzanne.

Scene 4:

Don’t forget we have a teenager in the house, and with that comes that horrid teenage music. Actually, there’s one song I kind of like. It’s catchy, even though not really appropriate. EK has heard it enough to be caught singing……

“I’m on the bass, on the bass. No trouble” (google it if you don’t know)

Scene 5:

Speaking of singing,

“What are little girls made of?
Spice and onions and sugar”

I’d say that’s right.

The Joy of Childhood

She just turned 26 months old. I know I’m not supposed to do that anymore, you know, count her months. But I’m just going to make my own rules up as I go. Time is too precious to just cast it aside and not see every moment for the treasure that it is.

Guess what we did today?

We built a snowman. Not a real snowman of course. It’s actually a blustery, warm spring day, not a flake in sight, but it was her first day to watch the movie Frozen. Afterwards, she asked if I wanted to build a snowman with her. “Come on,” she said patting her thigh as if calling a dog, so of course I did.

She is such a joy. So smart. She pretends and plays make-believe all day long. One minute she’s Cinderella, forcibly kicking off her plastic dress up shoe and saying she better get in her carriage while running to sit in her pink Barbie Jeep, and the next minute she is pouring tea for me and adding spoonfuls of sugar. She goes on Bear Hunts and squelch-squearches through the mud and peels pinecones apart declaring they are surprise eggs and wonders what’s inside.

We built our snowman today with a carrot nose made from a blue piece of wire found in the yard and two eyes and arms she stuck in the ground.

Her shoes were on the wrong feet, chocolate smudged her lips.

Her dog-ears had long since lost their snugness and flopped haphazardly.

She searched for crickets and got scared by something and ran to my side.

I lay in the grass just watching her and feeling filled to the measure with happiness and joy that she is mine.

Our days are filled with magical make-believe, chocolate kisses and snowmen fashioned from dirt.

It’s been a very long time since my own childhood, but I can vividly remember the games I played with my own imagination. How magical my world of pretend was.

Watching EK grow and play in this same make-believe way takes me to a place I used to know. It reawakens a child I used to be. I remember care-free days where nothing really mattered.

And now all that truly matters is that this little dog-eared 2-year-old (ahem……26 month old) who brings me such joy.

Halloween 2013 wasn’t a total bust

Months ago, I mean months ago, I saw a darling handmade owl costume on Pinterest. You know Pinterest? That website that will suck the hours right out of your day?

I pinned it on my board entitled Possible Attempts.

Around September, I knew I needed to get started, so I gathered the felt and began the process of cutting out owl feathers.

I just knew EK would look precious. I never imagined EK wouldn’t wear the costume.

But that’s how it all came down.

Our town had a fallfest carnival the weekend before Halloween. I was ready with the owl cape and hat. I’d bought sweats to go underneath it. She had glittery boots. Glittery boots!

And she refused to wear it. She threw her arms back throwing the cape off like it was burning her flesh. If I managed to get it put on, she tugged at the neckline, crying and fighting.

I decided to give up, and I carried her costume around the whole time.

The only time she put it on was in my lap and we managed to get a couple of pictures of her on a hayride with me.

That was the Saturday before Halloween. I decided to revise the costume and added a button, thinking maybe the tie was a little too choking.

I was up for another attempt.

I noticed a few years back that Halloween lasts a week these days. When I was a kid, Halloween was on October 31, no matter what. But this day and age, if it doesn’t fall on a weekend, there are Halloween events the weekend before and sometimes the weekend after. You’ll even find churches participating on Wednesday night, no matter what day it fall on. Then there is, what I call, “Real Halloween” the day people actually dress up and go trick or treating.

After the Saturday fallfest, we had 3 more events to wear our costume. Our play group was having a party on Tuesday, our Library Story time was having a party Thursday morning and then there was “Real Halloween” that night.

Attempt #2: On Tuesday, she wouldn’t wear her costume. I kind of threw a fit, but not as bad as the Saturday one I threw.

Attempt #3: On Thursday, I didn’t make a big deal out of it at all. I just merely asked if she wanted to wear it, and lo and behold, she did. So we donned the owl for Library time and she kept it on most of the time.

She was so tired after that, we didn’t do anything else for Halloween, which was fine with me.

I bought some Twizzlers for the trick or treating crowd, but ended up not having any trick or treaters. I might have, but I had to turn my light off at 7:30 after Ashlynn came in with a church group in the big middle of a scavenger hunt and took all our candy.

I guess I can’t complain since I did get a couple of decent pictures, although no smiles.

Even though we didn’t get to do “Real Halloween” and got trick or treat, I bet you can still guess “whoooooooo” was the cutest owl in town?

18 months old

Dear Emma Kate,

Today you are 18 months old. One and a half. You are a delight to this world. You make it a better place to live already, in just 18 short months you’ve truly made a difference in many people’s lives. Remember to always strive to add beauty and make this world a better place.

Let’s see……there is so much to say about you. First off, you are talker! You aren’t easily understood except by those close to you, but you talk up a storm, and I don’t just mean you babble.

You like to pray, and that makes my heart so happy. When we sit down to eat, you remind us to “pay” and you reach for our hands. You bow your little head, but still peek out from under your hair (we know that because we’re peeking at you too). When we’re finished, you say Amen and squeeze three times. It is so precious.

You love books as always and want us to read to you all the time.

You are so smart. I know I’ve told you that since you were born, but you were born smarter than most adults ever manage to become! You love to write your letters. You call them all E, A, and O’s.

You sing songs. Your favorite is Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and you have these sweet hand motions that go with it that you learned from play group. You also sing If You’re Happy and You Know it, B-I-N-G-O, You are my sunshine and lots more!

If you had a choice, you’d be outside! You are not a prissy pants, although you do like dressing up in necklaces and grown up shoes and calling yourself “toot” (cute), but you also eat dog food, waller in dirt, and don’t mind a little grit under your fingernails.

You love our dogs Drew and Grace and it is so funny to hear you talk to them. If you’re not giving them hugs and kisses, then you’re telling them “Go, Move, and No”! You also love the chickens and you hug their butts all the time.

You are just a little thing. We’ll be going to the doctor soon for a check up but I bet you weigh just barely over twenty pounds. You can still wear 12 month clothes and the 18 months are just a little roomy for you. You are super healthy and have never been too sick!!! I’m so happy about that.

As far as your personality goes, you are adorable! You like familiar people, and it takes you a good while to warm up to others that you aren’t around much. It hurts their feelings sometimes I think, but they’re grown ups and can deal with it. So you keep on being careful around others and be choosy in your friends. You are a watcher and an observer. You don’t just jump in and do things, but you analyze situations and sit back rather than dive right in.

You are a mommy’s girl! And you’ve even started being jealous if someone else touches me or tries to love on me. You yell “no no no” and wring your little hands. It’s so cute. I know you won’t always be a mommy’s girl, and there will be times that you, dare I say, will even think you hate me. But I will love you no matter what. Through all the highs and lows and ups and downs. You are my baby girl. You’re growing up and I am so proud to have you! Always know how much you are loved!

I love you!!!!!

xoxo

Mommy

The Hummers

I overheard them talking in the doctor’s office a few weeks ago.

You need to get ready for them.

They’re here.

We saw some at our place yesterday.

Hummingbirds.

So I heeded their advice and went to The Walmarts to buy a couple of feeders. I googled how to make sugar water (4 parts water to 1 part sugar), and I filled my feeders and hung them on the patio.

I doubted they would come. Just because I doubt most good things will come in my life. It’s a huge weakness in my character. But lo and behold, as Emma Kate and I were outside enjoying the day, the dogs, and the chickens, they came. They did! Two of them hummed their way over to the feeders and got a drink.

I was thrilled. Absolutely thrilled. I ran to get my camera and of course, as in the way things happen, they flitted away to the trees. I could still hear them tweeting and buzzing around, but they wouldn’t come to the feeders again.

I waited and waited and waited. Some might find waiting on the hummingbirds tedious and boring, their minds filled with a laundry list of to-do’s that they would rather be doing, but the simplicity of the afternoon overtook me and as I waited on the hummingbirds, I sat in the sun and let it warm me all the way to my insides. There’s something healing about a little sunshine warming the innermost.

I watched my darling daughter play in the animal’s drinking water. We have a waterer for the chickens and a big bowl for the dogs, but they don’t seem to understand the distinction, so the dogs drink after the chickens and the chickens drink after the dogs, and Emma Kate drinks after both. It’s good for the immune system I say.

She got pine needles and dunked them through the water and sucked the moisture off, she splashed, and she laughed. And the laughter from a little child on a sunshiny spring day is music to the ears.

She herded chickens and hugged them from behind and Grace, our heeler dog, herded right along with her. Ever vigilant to protect Emma from chicken danger. Meanwhile, Drew, who’s a couple milkbones short of a full box, chewed on a pink bone and didn’t ever once feel his manhood threatened. Real dogs chew pink bones.

And finally as the day drew to a close, and the sun dipped behind the house, and the shadows grew longer, I got a halfway decent picture of a hummingbird. But my true treasure is the several decent pictures I got of a simple day in the backyard that soothed and healed my soul.

Breastfeeding

When our little girl was born, she had to go to the NICU. We had had a very difficult labor, not like all labor and deliveries aren’t difficult, but if my memory serves me correctly, it was no walk in the park. They ended up taking me for a C-section. They were concerned about the amount of meconium (first fetal poop often caused by distress) in the amniotic fluid and if she were to aspirate it into her lungs, it could cause serious problems.

I remember lying there on the surgery table and feeling such an awesome bond to my anesthesiologist who sat at my head. He talked to me and answered my questions about what was going on. Of course J-Dub was there and a team of doctors and nurses working together like a well oiled machine. I asked the anesthesiologist, “Have they started cutting yet?” And he replied, “You’re wide open.” There was a bunch of tugging and violent pulling, and then there was Emma Kate. I remember Jason repeating over and over, “She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine.”

And I heard her cry. Then they showed her to me, and she was fine. I remember asking the nurse if I could see my placenta, because I wanted to see my baby’s life source for the past 41 weeks. She held up a pink hospital basin with a lot of green tissue in it. She told me it was so green because of the meconium.

The next thing I remember I was lying on a bed in a room with a lady sitting across from me. Not even a hospital room, but more like a staff work room. There were lockers against one wall, and hospital people would come through and exit a door across the way. The round woman sat against the lockers on a rolling chair, her big arms resting on her stomach.

“What are you doing?” I asked her when I was awakening from my fog.
“Watching you,” she answered. ”
“Why?”
“To make sure you wake up and recover,” she said.
“What a boring job you have.” I told her.
“Sometimes,” she agreed.

We sat there, she staring at me while I drifted in and out of sleep.

Then Jason came in, squatted by my head and told me they were taking Emma Kate to the NICU because she was having trouble breathing, and a doctor followed him in the room rolling her in her little isolette. She was lying in there, swaddled in a blanket, with a little cap on her head, and I could hear her grunting with each breath. He explained that they originally thought everything was okay, but then she began grunting, and they wanted to give her some oxygen and get her breathing regularly. She was then rolled away from her mama, away from the very person she needed to be nearest. I had only gotten to touch her once and wouldn’t be able to touch her again for several hours.

We had to wait nearly 24 hours before we could hold her. And then nearly 48 hours before she could breast feed. When we finally nursed, I wrote on my facebook wall that she was like “a hog at the trough”. She looked like a bird in the nest getting a worm from her mama, her mouth rooting around searching desperately for the milk that would sustain her. The nurse on duty remarked, “She’s going to be a breast baby, I can tell it. Look how big she opens her mouth.”

Breast baby is a more professional way of saying titty baby, which is what she was and still is. We didn’t have the breast feeding problems many other mothers have: not being able to latch on, not producing enough, the pain, the tenderness. In fact, my biggest problem was that I was a milk machine. Abundant milk supply. When my body finally told my “bottles” how much they needed to produce, it got much easier.

I believe as strongly in the benefits of breast milk as I believe in the Holy Trinity. Powerful stuff. I wanted Emma to have breast milk, but I didn’t know how long I would actually last nursing EK. I knew it was in her best interest, even if it was a pain for me. I thought I would try it for about 3 months, then 3 months turned to 6 and 6 turned into 9, the more time passed the easier it became, and today at 12.5 months we are still breastfeeding. There have been so many times in the past year I have felt tied down and trapped. I couldn’t leave her for more than 3 hours at a time. There were times when everyone ate supper except me because I was nursing the baby in the next room. There was the loss of sleep, the 7 weeks of pumping during my lunch break and conference time when I returned to work, then afterwards the refusal to take a bottle, so back to not being able to leave her for more than 3 hours. It has been a huge sacrifice, HUGE, but I’m glad that I endured.

Now the weaning process begins. She has a terrible sleep/nurse association thinking she needs to nurse in order to sleep, waking up several times a night. It just finally became too much for me. I know that I am way behind, but I just night weaned her 4 days ago. She is waking less and less and actually slept 9 hours the other night, straight through with no wakings. This is huge for us!!! I was up at 4:00 a.m. twiddling my thumbs, but at least everyone else got a good nights sleep. I should have night weaned her months ago, but was just too concerned that she might actually be hungry or was usually too tired to attempt to wean.

So now she’s sleeping more, eating more solid foods and relying on breast milk less and less. The past year my sleep deprived, breast engorged, nursing bra-clad self has longed for this moment. Getting my freedom back. Getting my hormones back. Getting my bra size back (maybe not a good thing). And now that it’s here, yes you guessed it, I’m a little sad. My little baby is growing up. As trying as breast feeding is, it is also a precious time of bonding, cuddling, gazing into your baby’s face. And now this season is ending for us. The next season stands in waiting, peeking from behind the curtain, watching for its cue to enter stage right. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I will complain about that season too. I will long for it to end, whatever it be. Somedays I will wish it away, wish her on to the next season.

Then a day will come when it is gone too, and I will sit with my memories.

For in the end, that is all we really have.

Just the beginning

She’s barely one.

And I’m pretty sure I’m in over my head.

When she’s sleeping, I’ve got it made. Piece of cake.

But when she’s awake, she’s really trying to run the show around here. Already. At the end of some days, I need a 3 day vacation. But alas, this is a 24/7 job I’ve signed up for. Just hand me another coffee please.

She stiffens her legs, arches her back, and throws back her head when I try to put her in her high chair. Then once I’ve wrestled her in, in order to have the advantage on me, she throws all her food off her tray. Is this typical one year old behavior? Is she just not hungry? Is she a brat?

I wonder what I’m supposed to do. Should I break her spirit? Force her to do everything that I, the all-knowing mother, think necessary? Because really. I’m kind of new at this too.

We fight tooth and nail. She usually wins right and left.

She is nineteen pounds of sheer determination.

If she had her ‘druthers, she would walk around with a naked hiney, a dirty face, eating goldfish crackers and watching Elmo all day. And then I’d be raising a wretch.

But whose to say I’m not.

Mama knows best. Well, about some things anyway, for instance children shouldn’t pee on the floor and occasionally they should eat a fruit.

I might not know much, but at least I know that.

I’m hoping she’s receiving some vitamins and nutrients from the dirt she eats, because she’s rather fond of that too.

She is a busy girl. And this is her childhood. The only one she’ll ever have. The one she’ll look back on with either fondness or dismay. The one that will shape her. The Nurture to help balance her Nature. It’s kind of a big deal when you think of it.

She’s exploring, discovering, and learning. As all children should be allowed to do. Within reason, of course.

While she’s busy growing up, I am busy watching, worrying, and trying to find the fine line between interfering or giving her the space she needs to become the independent little girl that she is becoming.

And trying desperately not to raise a wretch.

12 months

It’s unbelievable.

It’s inconceivable.

It’s unfathomable.

I’m sitting up in bed with you sleeping soundly beside me, studying your precious face and shaking my head in disbelief. Can this really be true?

One year, Emma Kate. One year.

This time last year, after a serious ordeal of labor and delivery, you made your appearance and have been a joy to me every single day since.

Let me tell you a little about yourself. First off, nearly every recent picture I have of you is blurry because you are on the go all the time. You took your first wobbly steps almost 4 weeks ago, and now you are practically running.

You love songs, books, babies, dogs, fish, cats, bath, outside, and your momma.

You dislike someone trying to feed you, laying still to get your diaper changed, having something taken from you, sleeping alone, and being left with strangers.

You can talk a blue streak. Some new words you began saying this month are juice, more, fish, Elmo, Emma, and no, no, no.

You love to talk on the phone and often have someone’s cell phone up to your ear pretending. You like to put things in little hidey holes too. I opened the pots and pan cabinet and found a sippy cup and found a sock in a cereal box.

A blurry picture of you with your necklace.

Your daddy thinks you might be a girly-girl because you love bracelets and necklaces and wear them around the house. Even if it’s not a “real” necklace, you turn it into one. You were wearing a cell phone cord around your neck, dragging it on the ground the other day, and you’ll put anything on your wrist that’s circular and then walk around holding your arm up so it rests on the crook of your elbow.

You like to watch Elmo’s World and sing the Barney song with your Grandy. When she starts singing, you begin to sway back and forth and give a big hug (with a grunt) and blow a kiss too.

You’re really super affectionate mostly and pat the people you love on the check and give kisses and hugs. But with people you don’t know very well, you are reserved and solemn, barely cracking a smile or interacting, but instead sitting back and watching.

You make us laugh all the time at your new antics. And I love to watch you walk. You have this funny side-step-shuffle with your elbows bent upward. You also learned to drink from a straw this month.

You still only have 6 teeth, your eyes are big and beautiful, you are cute as a bug, and you have learned how to really cry hard when you aren’t getting something you want or something is being taken away from you.

You still don’t sleep all night long, but I guess there’s worse things in life, and we’ll all survive. We’ve made it 12 months so far, I’m sure a few more months won’t kill us.

This past year, you have taught me to love more than I ever knew I was capable of. You have taught me to savor the moments because they vanish so quickly. You have taught me to see the world with the same kind of newness you do, and to adore chubby little bellies and dimpled hands. You are my baby girl. And even though your first year is now behind us, and we are moving into toddlerhood, you will always, always be my baby.

I love you so very much sweet one.

XOXO,

Mama