Dear my sleeping angel,
While I sit in my bed with the lights dimmed, you dream quietly in your crib across the room. I had a choice tonight- clean the house, or sort through pictures of my cherub. Clearly, reflecting over the last month with you was the winner. And by the time that you're old enough to read this, you'll know how much of a neat freak I am, and how I must really have some emotions to express (whatever those emotions may be) if I choose me-time over clean-time.
June Bug, you're nine months old now.
I took you to your well baby checkup this morning. Just you and me. You fell asleep in the car on the way over. You had been crying for your binky and your stinky (previously known as "Giraffey", trust me on the appropriate reasons for the name change), for about 10 minutes before we left, and as soon as your seat belts were buckled around you, your eyelids closed. When we arrived at the doctor's, it was sprinkling. I thought maybe it was going to storm, so I rushed us both out of the would be rain, and you yawned yourself into an alert state of awakeness.
You weigh 19 pounds, 13 1/2 ounces.
And thats all from Mama's milk, baby.
Lets reminisce.
One of the few things that we saved from your sister's wardrobe, was this blue dress. When we put you in it, we couldn't believe that you were already as old as she was when she wore it. The time that we've spent with you has passed so much quicker than it did for the other two. I guess because we don't have as many spare minutes as we did then, to sit around and soak it all up.
We pulled a picture of Eleanore wearing that same dress to see the similarities between you two.
Your brother doesn't show much of an interest in you just yet. Sometimes he shares his toy cars with you, but then takes back his decision immediately, grabs it out of your hands, and makes you cry. Also, he can't stand it when you two are side by side in the double stroller, and you reach over and A). Try to grab his lovey, or B). Touch him.
He gives you kisses when hes feeling especially cute though.
He'll come around. We just have to give him time.
You love being outside. You put up with the wind, with the sun, with the heat- no questions, no complaints. The only thing that you don't like, about it, is that if we're outside, you're usually not being held. And Evelyn not being held is a very unhappy girl.
We can sometimes distract you on a blanket with toys for a few minutes, but as soon as you've realized that the part has moved elsewhere, and that you're all by yourself- you cry like a baby carebear, in that obnoxious whine that your sister mimics.
Cookie Monster! You and him are like neighbor friends. You see him all the time, so hes no big deal. But sometimes you get into a chatty sort of mood, and when he offers you a bite of his orange rubber cookies, you accept, pull up a chair, and gossip about the Tigger doll just down the way.
Oh you and your remote controls. No toy could ever compare. No matter what you may have been doing, the moment you see a remote control within possible reaching distance (reeeeach for it, baby), you drop whatever it was that you were doing- breastfeeding included- and you go for it. If you can't have it, like say if you get trapped in your gymini, you have a massive meltdown that can only be comforted by the taste of a wii controller rubbing against your gums.
Soon you'll be crawling. You're so close, Evelyn. You rock up onto your knees more and more each day. But as far as getting around goes, you can only push yourself in a backwards motion, usually getting suck in corners and under entertainment centers. I bet when I write your 10 month post, you'll be a pro.
We went bowling, a couple of weekends ago, with some friends of ours. Xander? You looove Xander. See in that first picture, you were sitting all by your lonesome, with only your stinky to keep you company. But then in that second picture, well now you've got someone to chew on things with, and you just couldn't be any happier.
Night and day. You just needed a friend to hang out with, thats all.
You two sat together for about an hour, babbling and jibbering, fighting over who got to taste what. You were so excited, at one point, that you laughed and squealed and went on and on and on about something. Well whatever it was, it must've been good, because we've never heard you carry on such a conversation before.
Mommy and Daddy spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Tonight I cooked dinner with you on my back in the carrier, but- most of the time you're rolling around on the ground with a spoon, or something equally awesome in your hands/mouth.
Just you wait, little girl. There are cupcake pans and rolling pins, too!
Applesauce? ...you couldn't care less. Any solid food, for that matter. If you see a spoon coming anywhere near your face, you put both hands up, and block every pass I make with it. And if I do happen to succeed, and sneak in a minuscule bite, you spit it right out at me, and give me that face. The neener neener Mom, I'm never going to eat solid foods, and you can't make me, face.
And when those banana piece messes are made, you go straight into a sink bath, where we lather up your hair with tear free baby shampoo, and scrub a dub dub until you smell baby fresh once more.
Soon you'll be able to sit up on your own, and it won't be quite so hard to keep you from bonking your noggin on the faucet.
...Oh baby baby. Each month is better than the last, in its own unique way.
Lets see if we can make it through the spring/summer without getting any sunburns, k?
My sheewoo.
