Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I've been trying to write this post for days, going on weeks now. Evelyn I just have such a hard time letting go of your maybe not being so much of a baby anymore. When did it happen? Where have I been?
I wanted to have all of your pictures set up just perfectly, edited to be brighter and bring out the sparkle in your eyes, but- every time I try to gather them all in one place, something gets in the way, and now I realize I can't put this off any longer.
Between 9 and 10 months, you've practically grown up. You've gone from being the quiet observing little sister, to being the sassy red head in charge. You're going to give your sister a run for her money, aren't you?
You crawl now! Well, if you can call it that. Its more of a wiggle/scoot, but- you get around to where you're trying to go. You can get from one end of the house to the other in the same amount of time that it takes for me to pour a glass of water. And you have no problems testing and proving that over and over again.
You're a garbage mouth, you dirty little thing! Anything and everything, straight into your mouth. You've been that way since you were born, wanting to explore plastics and papers with your gums, as most babies do, but you're taking it to another level, Missy. You know what I pulled out of your mouth the other day? A stake sharp enough to kill a vampire. You had somehow gotten part of the wicker shoe basket by the front door (which has since been moved, ya little stinker), and who knows how long you had been stowing it away in your chipmunk cheeks. You even successfully nursed on one breast, without my feeling a thing. It wasn't until I switched sides, that I noticed something poking out from between your lips. I reached in, and pulled out a sharp-sharp-sharp little thing, that would have surely had you in a helicopter on your way to having an emergency surgery somewhere, and- Evelyn could ya just stop? Pieces of mulch, entire pages of books, potato skins, bobby pins that I'm pretty sure you must have gone to the grocery store and bought yourself- just stop already! I love you but you're making me crazy.
You have a voice. A beautiful, chatty, sometimes screamy and aggravated, voice. You shout, you laugh, and "Mamamamamamamamama" is repeated at least 100 billion times a day, but almost never directed at me.
You've got claws. Part of you being who you are, is that you won't let me near you with a pair of fingernail clippers. You won't let your hands be held still. You can't stand being restrained, you'll fight it with the strength of Sasquatch (which you obviously get from your Daddy). No spoons anywhere near your face, you'll put your binky in your mouth on your own terms thank-you-very-much, and God be with us if we try to take something away from you. ...You take those untrimmed and almost always jagged fingernails, and you get us. You usually go for the lips on me, and the throat on Daddy (probably because hes taller). You're a wild animal, Miss thang. The boys better watch out for you. They'll never know what hit 'em.
You eat now! ...sort of. I tricked you into eating a whole big piece of banana the other day, by putting it into one of those mesh teether things. You love to chew on fabric, so you dug in. Hah hah, baby, Mommy wins! But no really, you've been making progress with your solids. You have to finger feed it to yourself of course, nothing pureed and nothing in a bowl. We steam a veggie or chop up fruit, and place it on your tray, and let you feed yourself. Sweet potatoes seem to be your favorite. Avocado ...you're unsure of. Banana- if I catch you on a good day. You're still very much dependant on the breast, and while I love you and I love our special bond- its time to eat a dang carrot!
You don't cry at other people as much as you had been doing. You used to break into tears at the sight of anyone other than Mommy or Daddy. Or sometimes even Daddy. I think you're more interested in exploring the world, than you maybe previously were. Good for you, little one. A pat on the back (and followed by a burp) for you.
You've started fighting your naps. Sleeping, and especially sleeping with your mouth on a nipple other than Mom's, and in a bed not shaped like my cradling arms, is all too awful for you. You cry and cry and cry and cry. Besides, theres way too much to stay up and do. Sleeping is for babies! Which you're clearly not.
But you just look so dang cute while you're doing it. Even if you are covered in sweat and sticky bananas and dirt. Plus, its easier for me to take pictures of you when you're not trying to swat at my lens.
Slow down, these next couple of months, okay? No walking, no talking. Just... be a baby for a few more days.