Eleven Months

Just one month until my birthday! I can't believe I'm almost one. It's exciting and sort of weird at the same time. Celebrating your first birthday is supposed to be a major milestone, but at the same time it doesn't feel like I'm that old. Which is silly if you think about it, because I don't remember not being here, and Mom and Dad say they can't remember what life was like before me either. (Well, Dad says he had to put CDs and DVDs back on the shelf a lot less often.)

One thing that makes it feel a little less weird is how much I've learned and how much stronger I've gotten, even just in the last couple months. I love to cruise now, and I make Dad hold my hands and help me walk around the house at least a few times a day. This week, I started to bear-walk on my hands and feet, rather than just regular crawling. I'll crawl when I want to get somewhere fast, but I'm starting to figure out that I can get around on my feet -- I just don't have balance enough to walk on my own yet. But I have started working on standing by myself, without holding on to things. Saturday I kept my balance for a good ten seconds before I had to sit down.

As it gets warmer, we're spending more time outside. (This is probably the last you'll see of that hat I'm wearing in the picture!) Besides our usual walks, Dad and I like to stand out by the back fence and watch ducks and herons and other birds at our pond. On Monday, too, we went to a baseball game to see Dad's team play the one closest to us. I had fun there -- it was a nice day, and they have a big grassy hill just beyond the left-field fence that I could crawl around on. One of the nice guys who works at the stadium gave me a baseball, too, which was really cool to roll around with the other little kids. Dad says that when the minor-league team plays there, they have a kids' playground set up, which should be fun for all of us.

I guess that's it for this time. See you soon!

Erin Go Brach

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everybody. I'm one-eighth Irish, after all, so I do celebrate it.

It's been a while since my last update, hasn't it? Sorry about that. By the time I thought to do it, we were on a plane to Vancouver and then I didn't get a chance while we were there. We went to visit Auntie Lourdess in the hospital again -- she was coming up out of her stem cell transplant, and it seemed to go well because she was feeling great pretty much the whole time we were there. (Of course, since then there have been more complications, so keep on with the good thoughts.) I had more fun this time, because now that I'm mobile and able to entertain myself, I was able to play with the toys in the hospital playroom. We spent a lot of time with Auntie Georgette, too. I love her so much -- she loves to play with me and she's so funny! We went to the World of Science and the aquarium together and had a great time. And of course it was nice to see Pappy and Grandma again (as well as give them a break to have some together time while we took care of my aunties).

The teeth have made tons of progress since last update. I officially have five now, with the sixth almost all the way out of the gum. If you have to grow some teeth, let me give you a piece of advice: Don't do it. This nonsense hurts like nobody's business, and I have not been thrilled with the whole deal. My folks should have bought stock in Orajel, because it's always gotta be on hand to help me cope. (Dad keeps saying I can eat steak soon, but that doesn't really help.) The upshot is now I can crunch on Cheerios and my rice crackers, which makes eating them even more fun. I'm also starting to eat peas and carrots, sliced bananas, and (if I don't throw them overboard instead -- they can be a little too sour sometimes) apples that haven't been pureed to within an inch of their life.

In other areas, I'm still making progress. Sleeping on my own is no longer the fight it used to be -- I'll go down for two to four hours at a time, depending on what time it is and how tired I am. (I still prefer to share the bed with Mom and Dad, naturally, but one step at a time.) I'm wanting to walk more -- I still can't do it without help, of course, I make Dad hold my hand -- and the last week or so I've been trying to figure out how to stand on my own, getting my balance so I can get going. Kucha's been really helpful for that, actually; she lets me push up on her back away from furniture and doesn't get mad when I fall down and land on her.

That's about all I can think about for tonight. Slainte!

Marching Onward

Well, time keeps going on here at the house, bring its little pains and travails with it. Dad and I had colds last week, which was no fun at all -- I'm still coughing a little bit as I push the last of the grossness out of my system. What's more, those two new teeth I mentioned are starting to break in earnest. Last night they really hurt -- I just wanted to nurse, but Mom's trying to teach me that I don't need a nipple all night long, and it wouldn't have actually helped with the pain anyway. I know that logically, but give me a break; I'm just a baby and I want soothing. Finally Dad got me some Tylenol and rocked me to sleep in the study, where I wouldn't miss or be tempted by Mom's boobs.

Since I have so much fun playing with the balls in gym class, Dad got me this one a couple weeks ago. It has since become my new favorite toy. I'll make him walk me over to it so I can sit down and grab it right away, and when he or Mom rolls it to me I sieze it with a shriek of delight. Pushing it around the living room is fun too. Other toys I'm particularly digging right now include my fridge farm (you're supposed to match the front and back halves of animals, but I mostly just like banging it on the floor to make it play music) and my stacking cups (the rings are fun, but they're harder to chew on and they don't make quite the same satisfying noise when you knock them together). Of course, I still mostly prefer to play with things that aren't actually toys.

Lately I've been starting to wake up and go to bed earlier, too. I know, all you grandparents and aunties and other adults with child-raising experience were probably starting to freak out about my 11:00 bedtime. But I've been conking out with Mom at closer to 9:30 the last few days, and waking up at around 8. It generally depends on what kind of a nap I get, and I'm finally hitting a routine on those too, getting one in the morning two or three hours after I wake up and another after lunch around 3 or 4. But sometimes I'll fight off that afternoon nap so hard that I only get 20 minutes or so, which either means I fall asleep early and wake up starving or I just plain can't get to sleep. I mean, whatever, right? You can sleep when you're dead. I have too much to learn right now.

That's all for this time, I guess. I'll try to write again before the weekend's over.