Walking…Talking… Oh little girl you are rocking!

Sorry for the super lame rhyme but I couldn’t help myself. I mean, your two biggest accomplishments this month rhyme!

Yes, you are walking. Last month you started and it was a wobbly adventure. Now? Holy balls Paisley you don’t stop moving! Ever! Everywhere you go your arms are straight up in the air as if you’re constantly being held up for the Cheerios you keep nestled in each hand at all times. Sometimes there is a toy in one hand, sometimes there is a toy in both hands. You have such a command of the upstairs that I honestly don’t worry about you. You cruise in and out of the living room to the kitchen, your bedroom, over to the dining room and back again. If I can’t find you, odds are you’re perched right in front of your bookshelf, which you ransack on a daily basis (right after cleaning out my purse and wallet).

You love books! It warms my heart to a point you can’t possibly understand to see you loving your books. I was the same way, and as an esteemed member of my first grade class’s bluebird reading group (ahem, read “advanced”) I hope to welcome you in to the club of the word-proficient. (PS, numbers are for losers and you really don’t need them. I mean, what can you spell with a number? NOTHING! Unless you spell “BOOBIES” upside down on your calculator.) You will walk in to your room and always come walking out with a book in your hand. You bring it to us and have this adorable look in your eyes just begging us to read it. Of course, we always do. And after that one, there comes another. Katie Duck, The Belly Button Book, Goodnight Moon and The Goodnight Book are a few of your faves. On the rare occasion that you bring The Runaway Bunny (which is going in our next garage sale) I hide it and select a different book.

You are starting to talk. I absolutely love it! I had this enlightening moment the other day when I realized you were actually talking to me. You were just squawking and standing under my legs. Exhausted, I just kept going “What?!” Then, I realized, it was a completely different behavior for you. The way you were touching my leg, the way you were screaming, it was so unlike you. So I looked down and said “Are you hungry,” and you responded “yuh!” Umm, we just had our first Q&A. I handed you a graham cracker and off you toddled as content as could be. We really are going to get along just fine.

Words you definitely say are “uh-oh,” your first word; “daddy,” which comes out sounding like “die”; “yes” and “no”; it’s entirely possible you’re saying “thanks.” You’re signing “all done” and this has become invaluable! In fact, in the last couple of days you say “duh” while you do it, which thrills me that you’re using the sign with a word, or at least your version of the word. You usually bat your spoon away and fling food all over everyone when you’re finished eating, but now you just throw your hands in the air and wiggle your fingers. And you know what? If I try to put one more bite in your mouth you shake your head and put your hands in front of your face. In other words, you mean it. Done means done.

Those hands of yours are busy. There is so much you do with them these days, more signs that you and your world are becoming so much more acquainted. When we go to retrieve you from your crib in the morning, you look at us with almost panic in your eyes and scurry to grab your “fuzzy,” your favorite blanket, and tuck it under your arm. You will not vacate the crib without the fuzzy.

You have started mimicking the motions for “Itsy, Bitsy Spider.” As soon as I start singing it you put your first fingers and thumbs together and do this little wiggly dance with your hands. When we’re done you clap. You also clap along with “Happy and You Know it.” You clap when we say “yay!” and you clap when you just feel like something is really great! You wave hi and bye, but seem to prefer waving bye. You also get the biggest kick out of turning light switches off. In fact, your daddy and I always let you turn off the nursery light after a diaper change, and this seems to be an agreeable treat for the trauma we put you through. Because, having someone wipe poop off of your bum it’s so awful… for you.

What has been awful for you this month is your cold. It’s a virus that, much like the carrier monkeys who’ve gone before you, has infiltrated our entire home. You and daddy had it the worst, with both of you on antibiotics. Clearly I’m the strongest of the three of us and I was only brought to my knees with skull-pounding headaches and a sore throat that lasted two weeks and felt like I swallowed a softball.

We’ve also discovered an allergy. You broke out in hives one Saturday night and by that Monday morning they had not only not gone away but gotten worse. Everyone has their money on tomatoes or antibiotics. I for one hope it’s not tomatoes. I mean, what kind of life would you have if you couldn’t eat salsa? Or that pasta with roasted tomatoes at Yia Yia’s. These, my love, are what we tend to refer to as “white girl problems.” I’m going to do my best to raise you in such a way that you recognize what the real “what kind of life” problems are, and to enjoy your life enough to have a few of the insignificant problems as well.

I swear you do something everyday that’s new. This week you learned high-fives with Grandma Rochelle and have started mimicking when I blow kisses. You even like to give me kisses and I swear my heart falls apart every time you do it. I want to brag about you to everyone I meet. You are so smart! You are so funny! You are gorgeous!

Just as I’m trying to avoid the “countdown of doom” to my 30th birthday, I’m also trying not to treat your upcoming 1st birthday the same way. These should be celebrations, not mourning the time that is slipping lickety split out of my hands. So, I do everything I can every day to just soak you up. I can’t remember it all. What I’ve shared here is such a minuscule recap of who you are, however, it perfectly summarizes the exciting month we’ve had together.

This weekend we’re off to celebrate your first Ayyam-i-ha with the Koskies in Oklahoma City, complete with your first holiday-themed craft project as a gift to Oma and Papa.

(This pic is me at 7 months and you at 9 months wearing the dress that my great great grandma Kelly made. She was your great great great grandma.)

This, my love, is what we call the good life.

I love you bug-

Mama