Eleven Months Old: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Curly

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Eleven Months Old: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Curly

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Dear Eric,

And so it begins, the last official month of your babyhood.

If this post were more about me than you, I’d talk about how sad I am to have only one month left to be the parent of a baby, and how relieved I am that I never have to parent an infant ever again, and how strange it is to feel both sad and relieved over the same thing.  But this post is about you, and you are…delightful.  Inquisitive.  Tireless.  Tenacious.  Snuggly.  Shy.  Boisterous.

A few months ago, I wrote about how Daddy and I were trying to choose our “two words” to describe you–the two unique words that we’ve chosen for each of our children.  Miles is “joyful and intense.”  Alec is “sweet and mischievous.”  And we’ve decided that you, my dear, are “friendly and particular.”  Friendly with most everyone (as long as Mommy or Daddy is holding you).  Particular about what you want, when you want it, where you want it, and how you want it, or else.  (Or else lots of screaming and flailing and wailing, but mostly you are absolutely magnificent.)

Mostly.

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We are pretty much at a stand still as far as sleep issues go.  You still start the night off in Daddy’s arms.  You’re still up nursing at least every two hours, sometimes every hour.  You still rarely nap for long stretches during the day.

And I’m now trying to focus more on the cuddles I’m getting than on the rest I’m lacking.

Your dad and I were just talking the other day about how this will be the very last time that a baby will love us so much, will want to be in our arms and no one else’s.  Not even our grandchildren some day will find comfort in our arms the way that you do now, and your brothers did before you.  If anything, this extra time with you in our arms is the silver lining to all the sleeplessness.

The silver linings to you, of course, are varied and wonderful and many.

You’ve sprouted these spectacular curls, mostly on the back of your head.  They are wispy and wild ringlets, and I love them.

You also have four little teeth that make their appearance whenever you decide to show off one of your big, cheesy grins.

And then when you don’t feel like grinning, you have a pouty-bottom lip that sticks out a mile from your face.

You call me “Mama.”  You’ve just started saying “Dada” whenever Daddy walks into the room.  And your babbling is complex, adorable, full of new consonant sounds and combinations seemingly every day.

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You still adore your brothers with every fiber of your being.  (Santa Claus?  Not so much, but I don’t blame you for that.)

Miles loves to hand-feed you Cheerios (your hands down absolute favorite snack).  He likes to hold you on his lap too, though you rarely have the patience to sit on anyone’s lap for more than a few seconds these days.

Alec loves to find books and toys to entertain you.  He likes to make you laugh, and he likes to try to wrestle with you (for the whole three seconds it takes before I notice and then retrieve you from his grasp).

You smile at nearly everything they do, giggle at nearly every move they make, and, for better or worse, attempt to get into nearly every game or book or toy with which they are playing.

And for the most part, you aren’t really interested in any game, book, or toy that isn’t something with which your brothers would play.  I’m pretty sure that you think baby toys are beneath you.  And if you aren’t trying to steal your brothers’ Pokemon cards or pencils or soccer balls away from them, you’re seeking out your other favorite playthings: paper.  Magazines.  Newspaper.  Anything that you can shred into thousands of tiny pieces and then place in your mouth, thereby leaving me no choice but to fish them out of your mouth.

At least you’ll try “delicacies” other than soggy wads of magazine print.  You love salmon and broccoli and yogurt and cheddar cheese and any dish with mushrooms in it and, yes, your beloved Cheerios.

You especially loved the gingerbread pancakes I made the other day.  This next photo is, in fact, the teetering-on-tantrum, WTF face you made when you realized that they were all gone.

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So there you have it.  You don’t sleep, but you do crawl and cruise (and stand on your own for a few seconds!).  You won’t go to anyone else but your dad and me (and sometimes your thirteen-year-old cousin, Kas), but you will make a beeline for a basket full of magazines and newspapers.  You don’t like Santa Claus, but you do like gingerbread pancakes.

You’re extremely loud and incredibly curly, and as extremely and incredibly tired as I am, I think I’m more sad than relieved that this first year of yours is coming to a end.

At least we get to close it out with a Christmas-New-Year’s-Birthday-Party trifecta celebration, you know?

Love,

Mom

day one: 8 lbs. 14 oz.

day one: 8 lbs. 14 oz.

one month: 10 lbs. 12 oz.

one month: 10 lbs. 12 oz.

two months: 13 lbs. 5 oz.

two months: 13 lbs. 5 oz.

three months: 14 lbs. 3 oz.

three months: 14 lbs. 3 oz.

four months old: 14 lbs. 15 oz.

four months old: 14 lbs. 15 oz.

five months: 16 lbs. 2 oz.

five months: 16 lbs. 2 oz.

six months: 16 lbs. 12 oz.

six months: 16 lbs. 12 oz.

seven months: 17 lbs. 5 oz.

seven months: 17 lbs. 5 oz.

eight months: 18 lb. 13 oz.

eight months: 18 lb. 13 oz.

nine months (and one day): 18 lbs. 7 oz.

nine months (and one day): 18 lbs. 7 oz.

ten months: 19 lbs. 0 oz.

ten months: 19 lbs. 0 oz.

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eleven months: 20 lbs. 8 oz.



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3 Comments

  1. 2012: The Year in Birthing Beautiful Ideas
    2012: The Year in Birthing Beautiful Ideas12-31-2012

    […] And, of course, the life that happens when you’re busy making other plans happened: my babies grew.  My babies grew into not-really-babies-at-all anymore when Alec turned four in May and Miles turned seven in November.  Even my Eric who is a baby won’t be one much longer. […]

  2. Rachel Parris
    Rachel Parris01-01-2013

    Awesome! I love these posts. <3 So sweet.

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    http://gitxsanartist.com01-22-2013

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