Month 12 (aka Year 1)
Well, you’re officially one year old. How about that! It’s hard to believe that you have been in our lives for one whole year (post-delivery, of course). I don’t remember what we used to do with all of our free time and money! Why on earth didn’t we spend all of those post-RR years traveling, drinking, and gambling!?
One year down, and yet so many more to go. So many more challenges, lessons, and perhaps even teeth (since you still only have two). I’m 33, RR. In October, I’ll be 34. You know what this means, don’t you? No? Oh. See, I’m living among two sets of friends and acquaintances: those who have kids your age, and those who have eight-year-old’s and teenagers. I’m right on time and far behind all at once. Those friends with older kids are just a reminder of what is certainly to come, which is not only exciting, but scary. You won’t be small forever. In fact, you’re already less of a baby, and more of a little girl already. In seven (7!) years, you’ll be eight years old, and I’ll be 40. That seems reasonable, right?
Your 1st birthday party was a startling reminder that I’m turning into the nice neighbor that the kid next door can do to when he gets locked out of his house. Your mom and I are turning into our parents, although hopefully with less mania and depression, and better financial skills. You are turning into this precious and wonderful little girl who has a sensitive streak. We’re all evolving with every day that passes, with every new word, and with every independent step.
My heart is full of such love for you, your mom, and your animal friends that live with us. Not a day goes by that I don’t say a silent prayer of thanks for everything that I have.
For your party, we filled up what will eventually be your baby book, although it is just pictures. Before you were born, someone gave us a set of four photo albums for documenting your first year by 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, and 9-12 months. The week before your birthday, your mom and I spent the evenings weeding through our substantial collection of your pictures, and filled up the books in time for folks to thumb through them during the party. We reminisced along the way, and watched you slowly get older, and grow into those big eyes you were born with. There were so many pictures of you smiling and laughing, that we can’t help but to be convinced that you are indeed a very happy child.
At your one-year check-up this morning, we were assured that you are perfect, albeit on the small side, both weight and height-wise. Petite, let’s say. You’re also allergic to bananas, which is something that has been confirmed off and on for the past six months whenever you come in contact with a banana. Your face and eyes get read, as do your hind parts, with little tiny red splotches here and there. So, no bananas, check!
- You’re incredibly musical, rocking (literally) when music comes on, “singing” along to songs, and always picking out tambourines, maracas, and bongos out of a stack of toys. You shake, you bang, you groove on.
- You love being outdoors – hikes, picnics, riding in the backpack, sitting in the backyard.
- You hate baths, but you love showers. Yes, you still shower with your mom – she holds you, and I do the scrubbing. It’s quick and efficient. That, and you love to open your mouth and fill it up with water. In the bathtub, you stand and cry with your arms outstretched to get out. You’re getting big and squirmy, though, so soon here, you’re going to have to learn.
- You love having your picture taken and the sight of your own reflection.
- You love drinking water – out of a cup, out of the shower, whenever, however. I don’t think the world makes enough water for you to drink.
- You love to be bounced, shaken, hung upside down, tickled, and you would love to jump around all day long.
- You smile and laugh, a lot. Proof? This picture was taken after a long day of traveling to California: a 5am wake-up call, two flights across the country, two changes of clothing, a long ride in stop-and-go traffic on Route 101 in an unfamiliar car seat. That smile says it all.
I love you, kiddo.