A recent entry in Chie's journal:
You have been a Cuddle-To-Sleep baby since the day you were born. You'd snuggle in and wait for sleepiness to hit, and in those early months, it was often a long time coming. It took Herculean efforts to place you in your crib without jostling or otherwise disturbing you; if we did, the process of soothing you into sleep would begin again at the start. Sometimes you'd struggle and fuss, requiring vast amounts of fancy footwork to keep you calm. But even at those times, you did not want, under any circumstances, to be Put Down. We tried that, sometime in your third month, thinking that maybe-- just Maybe-- you would struggle your way straight into dreamland. We were dissuaded otherwise within minutes. Once you were out of the safe confines of our arms, you became very, very angry. It took a good half hour that night to calm you back down. So we resigned ourselves to getting you to sleep in the only way that we knew how. I don't even know how many hours I have spent rocking and bouncing to get you into a state of sleepy. It's been easier over the last few months. In fact, most nights you would just lay your head on my shoulder and within minutes, you were out. This continued up until about two weeks ago when, very suddenly, you Did Not Want to Cuddle. The first night that it happened, I was baffled. I laid you in your crib "to snuggie", as we call swaddling you, and then settled myself in the rocker for our nightly routine of rocking. You threw yourself back and struggled and fussed and finally, I laid you in your crib and said, "Ok, really, if you don't want me to hold you, I won't." You were asleep in five minutes.
I thought maybe it was a fluke. You have been known to have flukes, one exhibit of a new behavior that is never again repeated. But the next day, when you were ready for your nap, the same thing happened. And then it happened again that night. Daddy and I were completely incredulous. What had happened to our snuggler?
Maybe it's a product of this new phase that you're entering, of becoming A Toddler. Maybe you're just ready to spread your wings ever so slightly, or to have some time by yourself. I don't know. I do know that I am missing that time, those quiet moments at the end of your day when I'd hear your breath deepen as you neared a full sleep state. As I type this, you are mostly quiet in your crib; I hear a little exclamation every so often which is most likely part of a sleepy conversation with Spotty, your stuffed frog. I hope you sleep well, even without me to help you get there.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Scavenger
The Pea was hungry (apparently), so she went digging through the grocery bags we had left on the kitchen floor. She came up with a nectarine and started chowing down. The funny part is that she's got absolutely no shame about it. Scrounging food out of the grocery bags is just a normal part of life for her. She's hungry, so she's going to eat.
Scavenger II
Yup. No qualms about eating.
<Scavenger III
Em caught her attention. I just love the little hands in this picture.
Big Bite
She was more than happy to dig right in, though she was thoroughly interested in my camera.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Here we go!
Well, it's official: we have a business. We've shot our first few shoots and have a wedding scheduled for the end of the month. We have a name-- Reversed Lens Photography-- and an interim website. It's all moving along nicely and Gus and I could not be more pleased. Having your hobby become something that brings in a gainful income is always a good thing, right? It will likely be a long while until it's actually gainful on a real level. But even a little extra dough is more than welcome by us.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Newsletter: Month Fourteen
Before we get to this month, I have to apologize for last month. Things were crazy busy early on in your twelfth month and then, I just kept getting overwhelmed by the idea of the newsletter and knowing that I hadn’t done it yet. The more this built up, the more I put it off. In a word, I'm a horrible procrastinator. OK, that's two words. But you get the idea. I’m hoping that by the time you’re cognizant enough to read these letters, this foible of mine will have been resolved and you’ll read this and go, “Really? My mother?” I can hope, right?
But enough about me. These letters are about you and your big, glorious personality. It’s getting bigger and bigger and louder every day. You’ve become astoundingly expressive. This comes out in many forms, some of them surprising and some of them not. Your actual vocabulary astounds us nearly every day. I know that I shouldn't be surprised by this. Your father and I regularly discuss NPR programming, our distaste for overcooked noodles, and the state of all sorts of global situations with you. But it's nice to know that it's getting through, to see your cognitive development represented in a tangible way. You say Mama and Daddy, and our first names, but have been doing that for months. Now you say Grandma (“Guh-ma”) and Papa too. Other words you’ve said, in full, include: kitty (“ki-ee”), ducky, pizza, milk (“mill”), cracker (“cra-cra”), Cheerios (“she-sha-sha”), book (“bo”), that (“tat”), more (“ma” or “mo”), and cheese (“chee”). You attempt lots of other words but they come out monosyllabic, like "Sa" for your friend Sarah. You’ve even combined words to make full sentences: “What’s that?”, “Hi Daddy!”, “I want Mama” (this one was especially distinct), and “It’s Ducky!” when your ducky was held up and you were asked, “Who’s that?” You babble all the time, in a constant stream, and there are moments every day when I am shocked by how real your conversations sound. Even if the pronunciation of words is still developing, your inflections are spot on. You hold up the phone to your ear and make one-sided conversation with yourself and when Daddy calls, you listen eagerly while he asks you how your day is going. The only person that you’ve responded to, though, is Daddy's Papa.
Words aside, you are an expert at communicating your opinion. You now have a full range of noises for any occasion, from happy giggles and grunts to full on screeches and squealing if your needs or desires aren’t met in a way that you deem appropriate. If Daddy leans in to kiss you or take you out of my arms and you’re not happy about that, you’ll use one or both hands to push him out of the way. You’ll do the same motion if someone or something is in your personal space. Then you keep pushing until the area is clear enough to meet you standards. It’s not all disapproval, though. You have this little, impish laugh that is multi-toned that cracks anyone up who hears it. This is often accompanied by a bobbing motion— sometimes of just your head, sometimes of your entire body, bouncing up and down. There’s also your full-on laugh, which is loud and boisterous. You’ve literally become the life of the party.
You're growing in other ways too. Last night, we had dessert with James and Kristina, our next door neighbors. Kristina is in nursing school and she used the Denver Scale to rate your over-all growth. Not surprisingly, you are meeting your age benchmarks and even surpassing them in most areas. You can do several things that are at the 18-month level, including: removing an article of clothing, purposefully dumping out a cup of raisins, helping in the house (you love to clear the dishwasher with me, handing me dishes and utensils one by one), building towers of blocks (you’ve mastered the two block tower and are working on higher heights), and your aforementioned verbal skills (six words and word combinations were the marks for 18-month olds). The only area for which you are dead-on for your age group is gross motor skills. You began standing without any help about three or four weeks ago, and then this last week, you took your first steps unassisted. As of this writing, you’ve taken eight steps on your own. You seem to become more confident every day with your ability to step out into the world. As soon as you figure out that walking is more efficient than crawling, we’re sunk.
One of the greatest changes of the last few months is that you’re sleeping better, more predictably. Most nights you go to sleep by about nine o’clock and sleep all the way through. We change you into pajamas, read you a book (Goodnight Moon is the usual suspect) and then rock you for a few minutes. Then we lay you down and, with any luck, you settle in to sleep. This works better on some nights than others. Daddy seems to be the most adept at getting you to sleep effectively. Maybe you can sense that I’m a softy? I do enjoy rocking you to sleep, having those few moments of closeness in your crazy day. Sometimes you get feisty and want out of my arms and then I lay you down, wide awake. And then I walk into the hallway and mutter, “She is like her father.” When you wake, though, you’re all about Mama Time.
You’re making a lot of friends. Lindsay and Sarah are still your ready playmates, happy to chill with you and pull our respective apartments apart any time we get you together. We’re making new friends too. We’re starting a play group with some of the other toddlers in our ward, taking field trips to fun parks and to other friend’s apartments. I’m excited for you to have constructive time with other friends on a predictably basis. We try to take you out a lot, too. We go to the zoo, the reading time at the library, or to some of the other places that we have passes. We also venture to lots of parks and open spaces.
You always seem up to exploring a new venue and finding new, friendly faces. You’re very sociable and cooperative with other children, a trait that garners you lots of buddies at the park. That happy personality of yours is really the most satisfying part of being your parent. Your feelings are strong and your spirit is independent. But with that comes a love of life that is so infectious that everyone who is lucky enough to be near you falls head over heels in love. It’s a good life to be a part of.
Love, Mama
But enough about me. These letters are about you and your big, glorious personality. It’s getting bigger and bigger and louder every day. You’ve become astoundingly expressive. This comes out in many forms, some of them surprising and some of them not. Your actual vocabulary astounds us nearly every day. I know that I shouldn't be surprised by this. Your father and I regularly discuss NPR programming, our distaste for overcooked noodles, and the state of all sorts of global situations with you. But it's nice to know that it's getting through, to see your cognitive development represented in a tangible way. You say Mama and Daddy, and our first names, but have been doing that for months. Now you say Grandma (“Guh-ma”) and Papa too. Other words you’ve said, in full, include: kitty (“ki-ee”), ducky, pizza, milk (“mill”), cracker (“cra-cra”), Cheerios (“she-sha-sha”), book (“bo”), that (“tat”), more (“ma” or “mo”), and cheese (“chee”). You attempt lots of other words but they come out monosyllabic, like "Sa" for your friend Sarah. You’ve even combined words to make full sentences: “What’s that?”, “Hi Daddy!”, “I want Mama” (this one was especially distinct), and “It’s Ducky!” when your ducky was held up and you were asked, “Who’s that?” You babble all the time, in a constant stream, and there are moments every day when I am shocked by how real your conversations sound. Even if the pronunciation of words is still developing, your inflections are spot on. You hold up the phone to your ear and make one-sided conversation with yourself and when Daddy calls, you listen eagerly while he asks you how your day is going. The only person that you’ve responded to, though, is Daddy's Papa.
Words aside, you are an expert at communicating your opinion. You now have a full range of noises for any occasion, from happy giggles and grunts to full on screeches and squealing if your needs or desires aren’t met in a way that you deem appropriate. If Daddy leans in to kiss you or take you out of my arms and you’re not happy about that, you’ll use one or both hands to push him out of the way. You’ll do the same motion if someone or something is in your personal space. Then you keep pushing until the area is clear enough to meet you standards. It’s not all disapproval, though. You have this little, impish laugh that is multi-toned that cracks anyone up who hears it. This is often accompanied by a bobbing motion— sometimes of just your head, sometimes of your entire body, bouncing up and down. There’s also your full-on laugh, which is loud and boisterous. You’ve literally become the life of the party.
You're growing in other ways too. Last night, we had dessert with James and Kristina, our next door neighbors. Kristina is in nursing school and she used the Denver Scale to rate your over-all growth. Not surprisingly, you are meeting your age benchmarks and even surpassing them in most areas. You can do several things that are at the 18-month level, including: removing an article of clothing, purposefully dumping out a cup of raisins, helping in the house (you love to clear the dishwasher with me, handing me dishes and utensils one by one), building towers of blocks (you’ve mastered the two block tower and are working on higher heights), and your aforementioned verbal skills (six words and word combinations were the marks for 18-month olds). The only area for which you are dead-on for your age group is gross motor skills. You began standing without any help about three or four weeks ago, and then this last week, you took your first steps unassisted. As of this writing, you’ve taken eight steps on your own. You seem to become more confident every day with your ability to step out into the world. As soon as you figure out that walking is more efficient than crawling, we’re sunk.
One of the greatest changes of the last few months is that you’re sleeping better, more predictably. Most nights you go to sleep by about nine o’clock and sleep all the way through. We change you into pajamas, read you a book (Goodnight Moon is the usual suspect) and then rock you for a few minutes. Then we lay you down and, with any luck, you settle in to sleep. This works better on some nights than others. Daddy seems to be the most adept at getting you to sleep effectively. Maybe you can sense that I’m a softy? I do enjoy rocking you to sleep, having those few moments of closeness in your crazy day. Sometimes you get feisty and want out of my arms and then I lay you down, wide awake. And then I walk into the hallway and mutter, “She is like her father.” When you wake, though, you’re all about Mama Time.
You’re making a lot of friends. Lindsay and Sarah are still your ready playmates, happy to chill with you and pull our respective apartments apart any time we get you together. We’re making new friends too. We’re starting a play group with some of the other toddlers in our ward, taking field trips to fun parks and to other friend’s apartments. I’m excited for you to have constructive time with other friends on a predictably basis. We try to take you out a lot, too. We go to the zoo, the reading time at the library, or to some of the other places that we have passes. We also venture to lots of parks and open spaces.
You always seem up to exploring a new venue and finding new, friendly faces. You’re very sociable and cooperative with other children, a trait that garners you lots of buddies at the park. That happy personality of yours is really the most satisfying part of being your parent. Your feelings are strong and your spirit is independent. But with that comes a love of life that is so infectious that everyone who is lucky enough to be near you falls head over heels in love. It’s a good life to be a part of.
Love, Mama
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