- RT @Charli_H: "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What? You too? I thought I was the only one!'" - C. S ...
Month Ten
Published December 13, 2009 | 
Dear Maia,
Today you turn ten months old, and I must say, I would keep you at this age forever. You, right now, are more perfect than you’ve ever been, more loving, more playful, and more interactive; our days are filled with smiles and laughter.
The big news this month is that you’ve mastered the art of walking.
You love to walk, and we love to watch you walk. You are so steady on your feet that it looks like you’ve been walking for a heck of a lot longer than you have. And it was funny, Maia, how you suddenly decided — just like I knew you would! — to start walking one day. I went to work and you were cruising along holding on to furniture; I came home, you walked over to greet me, and that was that. You were walking.
This has lead to a whole new way of living for us, because now you follow us (me) everywhere, and you are FAST. You are REALLY, REALLY speedy. I literally have to speed up a bit if I’m trying to get into the washroom without you, because you are right at my heels. Then I close the door in your face and you scream bloody murder while beating on the door and honestly, all I can think is this is gonna get so much worse once she learns how to use the doorknob. Sometimes I just bring you in with me and put you in the bathtub, where you eat the loofah or chew on your favourite thing, Daddy’s tube of toothpaste. It’s better than constantly wrestling the toilet brush away from you or rerolling up the toilet paper after you unravel it with a glee that I thought was only reserved for lolcats.
You like the bathtub a lot better when there’s water in it, though.
You see, you’ve also learned how to splash, which is, as we all know, pretty awesome. You splosh, splash, splish and make a mess and have a grand old time, all while your poor Mommy or Daddy try to wash your hair without getting suds in your eyes from all the wiggling you’re doing.
Lately you are really trying to talk. I can tell when you’re babbling — mamamama — and when you’re genuinely trying to call for me — mmmuh MUH — and it’s really awesome that you’re exploring language. We often ask you to say “Dada” to which you grin slyly and reply “Mmmuh MUH!” Keep it up, baby girl. It’s hilarious.
Along with this learning to speak thing, you’re also clearly learning to listen. Your favourite word right now is “nice”. It’s what we say when you touch the dogs gently, and you smile widely, your dimple deepens, and you squeal with delight because you are being “nice to puppies”. You often flail your arms in excitement, which scares the dog away and somewhat defeats the purpose, but you are also learning how to be quick, and you will try to snatch at a retreating paw.
Your least favourite word is “no”. Oh. My. God. You hate being told no. We’re only using it when we need to — NO, you cannot pull the wires. NO, you cannot open the gate to the kitchen — but you react as if this is the most infuriating thing you have ever heard, the most irrational and stupid, and then you start with the wailing and screaming and your face goes totally red as you glare with dark, anger-filled eyes at whichever one of us has dared to tell you no. Maia, I must admit, I have a hard time not laughing when you do this. Seriously? You want to throw a temper tantrum at me because I won’t let you give yourself electric shock? Well, go right ahead then.
Fortunately, you haven’t learned how to say “no” yet (I dread the day you do) but, you do mimic our fake coughing. This is something your daddy found out when he was making funny noises at you and you started to repeat them back, and it’s completely hilarious. You are so proud of yourself as you make these fake little hacking and coughing noises from the back of your throat, and we try to keep up with you, but we end up laughing too. Oh, speaking of, you’re learning to fake laugh. That’s also hilarious.
The one thing about this month that has sucked is your sleeping “pattern”. I use the word “pattern” because while you do have a fairly regular bedtime and wake-up time, the time in between them is completely erratic. Will you wake up three times or five? Will you sleep in your crib or will one of us have to take you into the nursery to snuggle? And in line with this, your nap schedule is fairly irregular too. It seems like whenever I’m at work, you nap for two hours around noon, but when I’m home you might sleep for an hour anytime between 10 and 3, and then you’re done for the day. Maia, I don’t know if you know this, but according to the book I received from the author herself (Ann Douglas, you rock), only 11% of babies your age take only one nap per day. And that’s fine, if you want to continue being extraordinary, but for the love of all that is holy, that nap needs to be longer than one hour or you are pretty much a disaster by the end of the day.
Really, though, crappy sleep isn’t too much of an issue when you are so damned charming and loving the rest of the time. Lately, you really enjoy being read to, and you will sit with me while I read the same book to you three times, then carry it over to your Daddy, hold it out to him, and squeal with delight as he reads to you again. It’s awesome. I mean, it makes me realize that we probably need to get you a few more books, but still, it’s totally awesome.
Not that I’m dropping any hints as to what you might be getting for your first Christmas or whatever. You are just going to have to wait and see!
All our love,
Mama & Dada
Month Nine
Published November 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Today you turn nine months old. Today is also a Friday the 13th, just like you were born on, and I have to admit that this makes me smile. Oh sure, I’ve heard a few times that it’s “too bad” you didn’t hold off your arrival for a day so you could be a Valentine’s Day baby and share a birthday with your Grandma, but I’m pretty sure that being born on a Friday the 13th is going to give you way more street cred when you hit your goth phase. Never forget that, baby girl, you totally owe me.
Like I do every time I sit down to write you this letter, I check out the pictures I’ve taken of you over the past month so I can review in my mind what we’ve done together and how much you’ve grown. Unlike most months, however, I am shocked at how much your presence has changed and matured; between October 13th and November 13th, you seem to have become a completely different baby. In fact, sometimes I stop thinking of you as my baby, and I think of you as my kid and yes, those are distinctly separate entities. A baby is reliant on other people for everything. A kid has some autonomy, and if there’s one thing you like demonstrating to us, it’s your need to have some autonomy.
See, here’s a picture I took of you on October 14th. And whatever, don’t be hatin’ on your hair, this picture has SERIOUS high school yearbook potential. Don’t you look so cute? So sweet? so YOUNG?
In comparison, here you are at the park the other day:
See what I mean? You’re totally bigger now. And I still can’t do your hair properly, but you’ll notice that you’ve now graduated to adult sized clips.
This month has been a great one for all of us. We are in a rhythm now, the three of us, working in tandem with one another. You have a certain time when you wake up (around 7:22) except for once or twice a week when you decide that waking up at 6:30 would be way, way cooler. And then Mama or Daddy, whichever one of us is getting up with you that day, walk around like zombies while you bounce around the house and squeal. You go to bed around 7:30pm, after we read your favourite book (which is borrowed from the library… we really must buy you a copy instead). You wake up two or three times a night still, but that’s alright, because you just want to eat. Sometimes you want to eat and then snuggle and while that’s great in theory, when your very tired Mama wants to sleep, it kinda stinks. Because, you see, while I am totally willing to put you in bed with us so we can snuggle and sleep together, you seem to think the bed is a place to romp around regardless of the hour, and then when I put you in your crib you act like this is THE GREATEST INDIGNITY babykind has ever known. Tough luck, honeybuns. Trust me, all three of us need our sleep.
You can totally walk, but for some reason you seem to be convinced that walking unsupported is not worth your time and that you would much rather hold onto the table, or me, and walk. However, sometimes you will trot back and forth between Daddy and I four or five times in a row, giggling and smiling. Or I’ll catch you sitting on the floor before pulling your legs into a squatting position, then you will stand straight up without supporting yourself on anything and take a few steps over to wherever you want to be. I have to admit, though, that if I could get carried everywhere, I might be tempted to pretend I could not walk.
You like to do this thing we call “drama hand”. You hold one arm out in front of you, palm upwards, your fingers outstretched, then clench and release your hand repeatedly. Usually, you have a very earnest look on your face. We can just imagine you being on stage, delivering some dramatic line or another in a Shakespeare play, and posing like this. It’s completely hilarious and I have yet to capture it on film, because every time you hear my camera turn on you immediately have to turn and start posing. Or try to grab it.
Hey mom, whatcha got?!
Your grandma came up from Florida this month and you pretty much love her. You two got along like peas in a pod, except for, apparently, when she was babysitting, and you wanted to walk around. So you grabbed her hands and started walking, only she didn’t come along, at which point you started screaming and shrieking your little head off (a sound Daddy and I are very familiar with). When recounting this to me the next day, she laughed and laughed, saying how much you reminded her of Daddy when he was a baby. I said you remind me of Daddy as an adult. She agreed.
Actually, you remind everyone of people that aren’t me. You look like Daddy. Your uncle Sean. Your grandma. Your great-uncle. Your auntie Katie. You do not look like me.
Whatever, though, we’re totally gorgeous together. Maia, I’ve never been a terribly confident person, but when it comes to parenting you, I know we’re doing it right. You are so beautiful, intelligent, and altogether vibrant that Daddy and I often look at one another over your head and smile, unable to articulate how much we love you and how happy you make us. Life right now is amazing and better than I ever could have imagined it being. Who knew that being a mom is wicked awesome?
We love you, baby girl. Always and forever.
Love,
Mama & Daddy
Month Eight
Published October 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Nothing makes one so aware of the passage of time as becoming a parent. As usual, I’ve had a hard time accepting that you’re growing up, and even though I’m typing this at 11pm on the 12th, I still call you my 7 month old. I can’t believe we’ve been together for so long, and at the same time that I am so proud of you growing up healthy, smart, and strong, I stare at my face in the mirror and wonder where time has gone, how I’ve ended up this close to being 27 — so close to 30. 30? That’s how old your Babcha is in my mind, eternally.
As you might be able to tell from that paragraph, this has been a mind-blowing month, one that has left me feeling alternately scatter-brained and ultra-focused. The month began in a devastating fashion: you went on a nursing strike.
One thing this showed me, however, is that you are a stunningly independent child (also, that you’re very stubborn). I think that independence is at the root of why you decided to reject nursing, and then return just as suddenly: you felt like exercising your free will. And to that I say YOU GO, GIRL (that is, now that I have a breast pump). We’ve recovered from this just fine, mostly, except now we face the challenge of you biting me nearly every time you delatch. I still yell “NO!” or “OUCH!” or the very Canadian “EH?!” (I wish I were joking) when you do, but instead of crying as if you’re the one that got bitten, like you used to, you now let out a little chuckle and stare up at me innocently. Pro tip: if you want me to think you did it unintentionally, DON’T LAUGH AFTERWARD. I’m totally on to your game.
The pain of these bites is from your two little teeth, right in the center of your bottom gum, which have finally begun showing enough that people notice them. This is a source of constant pride for me, although you’ve now gone nearly a month and a half without any other teeth coming in. I’m kind of wondering if they’ll ever show up. You’ve been drooling like a damned fountain for a few weeks now, so I’m expecting something relatively soon. I figure if I keep thinking you’re teething, eventually I’ll be right.
Oh Maia, YOUR HAIR. I love it. There are strands that now reach to the back of your shoulderblades. I’m so impressed with it. Everyone insists that it’s growing in blonde in the back, but I know better; it’s just that you have less at the back, and so it looks lighter. The fact is, if you had dirty blonde hair, you’d end up looking VAGUELY like me, and we all know that can’t happen. We have discovered that you and I have two things in common: we both have big feet and big butts. Congratulations my dear, you’ve got the biggest and best baby badonkadonk on the block.
Can we talk about how huge you look? You are thisclose to outgrowing your infant car seat. It’s good up to 30 inches and you’re hovering around 27.5. If we count your crazy pigtails, you’re probably at 30. This is the first month we’ve put your hair up like that and I must say, I think it’s very fetching. Little wisps of bangs escape to brush your forehead and the nape of your neck, and I just want to gobble you up. Maia, NO ONE can pass you by when you have pigtails without remarking upon it. It’s clinically impossible.
Physically, you’re still not quite walking, although you have taken a few steps on your own. You get so excited about the fact that you’re learning how to balance yourself this way that you invariably end up flapping your arms around and falling over, which infuriates you. So I have to pick you up and soothe you, and then when I try to set you down you’re apt to start babbling “Mamamama” in between whining, until you’re over being butt-hurt about losing your balance.
You have decided that solid food is the most amazing thing ever. This means that on Sunday, at your first Thanksgiving, you ate turkey, cranberry sauce, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole, and some squash. Also, I let you have a taste of key lime pie, apple pie, and pumpkin pie. Your favourite food is, by far, butternut squash. I am forever roasting it up for you to nibble on. I also love squash, so I’m delighted that you have good taste. You seem to like everything that I make and let you try, except for the Moroccan-spiced lentils and brown rice which you promptly spat out and started screaming at me for feeding you. But then later, when they were cold and we tried again, you liked them, so who knows. You’re just a little gourmande.
You still haven’t quite gotten the hang of drinking from a cup. You love when I hold your sippy cup up so you can drink from it, but the second you have to hold it up yourself, you get pissed and bang it against the floor until the top flies off. Have I mentioned that the dogs really love when I give you a sippy cup? I decided to outsmart you, and got you a cup with a straw instead, but that just made you even angrier. So our interim solution, until you set your mind on drinking on your own, is for me to hold an “adult” glass to your lips. You kind of chew on the rim of the cup, causing the liquid inside to slosh all over your face and in your mouth, then smack your lips together and lean forward for more. You love sharing orange juice with us in the morning.
You’ve had your first real injury, in the dressing room of a department store, when you put your hand in a baseboard heating unit that was then turned on. Believe me, I feel like the WORST parent in the history of ever about this, and I only hope it doesn’t scar too badly. You’ve definitely coped with it far better than I, and it’s healing beautifully. When we took you to the doctor to have your burns checked out and see if we needed any ointment for them, she said I could just keep applying breastmilk to the burns because they looked great. You know, as great as hideous burns on a little baby hand can look. I know that someday you’ll be like “MOM THAT IS SO GROSS THAT YOU PUT BREASTMILK ON MY HANDS” but hey, whatever works.
Your favourite thing to do right now is watch this video of “I Gotta Feeling”. I don’t think it’s possible for me to put into words how much your father and I hated that song, until one day he for some unknown reason (fate?) clicked on a link to the above video, with you in his lap, and you sat there absolutely mesmerized for the entirety of it… then started whining and complaining when it ended. Want to know how many times a day that video is played in our household? Let’s just say that the video has 1.4million views at the moment, and I think we’re responsible for the .4.
I returned to work, leaving you and Daddy together. The first few days were rough, but when I came home one night to see you two like this… well, I knew everything would be okay:
Do you see the little smile he’s trying to hide?
Yeah, we kinda like having you around, papaya.
All our love,
Mama & Daddy.
Month Seven
Published September 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Well, the good news is this: you’re not yet walking on your own. The bad news is this: if I analyze your movements long enough, I become convinced that you actually are.
That video is not long enough to show what you did afterward — one of your favourite new activities, banging on things. You are never happier than when you have a wooden or hard plastic toy in hand and are smashing it against something else solid, raising a racket. Oh, wait, I lie: you’re even happier if you are also giving off your patented Maia Was A Velociraptor In A Former Life screech. At these times, your Daddy and I just look at each other and shrug, because really? You are just so damned happy. Interrupting would result only in your anger, and you are REALLY good, like almost admirably amazing, at throwing hissy fits that last approximately, oh… forever.
This month, we moved your crib into the bedroom (because your Daddy wanted the pack & play in the living room… I don’t know, ask him why), which means you are at eye-level with me. For a few mornings, we had your favourite wooden toy in the crib so you could amuse yourself with it in the morning, but after you woke me up banging it against the side of the crib, that toy found a new home in the living room. On the floor. Where I now step on it at least once a day. Oh, the joys!
In your crib, you have a little stuffed bear. You LOVE to snuggle with it! Every time you wake up to nurse and I pull you into bed, you are holding the bear in your right hand (because you self-soothe on your left “fingees”), but if I nurse you on the left so your right arm is trapped, you’ll switch the bear to your free hand. Then you start flailing him all over the place, rubbing him across your face and mine, over my chest, against your side. Sometimes you’ll delatch and push one of the bear’s paws into your mouth for a moment before returning to me. It always makes me smile.
What makes me smile less, though, is that recently you seem to be having a lot of trouble returning to sleep once you’re up. I’m not sure if this is teething, or just physical & mental development. You’ll fall asleep in my arms, and wake up when I put you in the crib, at which point you roll over, push yourself into a sitting position, and suddenly stand up against the side, whining and moaning with your head hanging down sleepily. I can tell you’re just as frustrated as I am, so that does make me have a little bit of sympathy, but at the same time… it’s so frustrating! Last night we spent over an hour playing this game with one another.
But during the days, oh my baby girl, we have so much fun. Once you’re in bed, I find myself wishing you were awake to play with, and before I fall asleep every night I think about all the fun things we’ll do tomorrow. This month, we discovered something that makes you INCREDIBLY happy:
Ohh yes. Swinging makes you a happy, giggling, smiling, ecstatic little ball of love. This picture is my desktop and let me tell you, Maia, you love it as much as I do. If you spot it, even from across the room, you make this little delighted noise, so I bring you closer… and you start talking to the picture. SO CUTE. If I point at my screen and exclaim, “That’s Maia!” you laugh and laugh.
Another thing that makes you laugh is when we fake bite you. This is especially effective when combined with “scaring” or surprising you; I look away from you as though I’m not paying attention, then suddenly growl and snap at you, and you LAUGH! Daddy says you’re going to like horror movies. I tell you right now, Maia, I do NOT like them, not at all, so if you want to watch them, it’s going to have to be with some not-Mama person (I suddenly feel as if I have presented you with the perfect excuse to get out of the house in the future).
Earlier this month,we realized you had never met another baby. And, yes, we felt horrible about this. Fortunately, your friend Lily came over and you two hung out while the parents chatted. We all went down to the waterfront and enjoyed the Ribfest, which was REALLY tasty. You and Lily? Yeah, you ate carrots. Maybe next year you’ll get some yummy ribs!
We visited family and you went in a swimming pool for the first time. It was kind of a cool day, so you didn’t stay in for too long, but you seemed to enjoy it well enough. I have the feeling that soon enough, you’ll be begging to spend summers with these relatives because Mommy, they have a pool, pleeeeease I wanna go swimming! and to be honest, I REALLY enjoy swimming and am totally pissed off that I only got to go once, so I’ll probably cave in. I won’t even complain (much) about my poor post-pregnancy, untoned, frighteningly floppy body.
Since you move around so much these days and you love water so much (channeling your Aunt Katie), you take big girl baths now.
See that face? You’ve developed a habit of puckering your lips, wrinkling your nose, and huffing like a bull, and this is a mild version of it. Usually you’re so into it that your puckered lips are white, your brow furrowed, and your eyes dark little slits. It’s truly hilarious, and I’ve tried to video tape it, but so far I’m not having any luck with that. I’m not too worried, though, since it seems like a habit you’re not keen to give up anytime soon.
In case it hasn’t come through in this letter, you are currently amazing. You amuse us, inspire us, and sometimes make us pull out our hair (err… yes, I know your Daddy doesn’t have hair, don’t correct me!), but there isn’t a single day — a single hour — that goes by without us thinking about how stunningly beautiful you are, inside and out. You enrich our lives. We have so much fun with you around, and watching you grow up is amazing. I want to keep you at this age, but at the same time, I can’t wait to see how you change and develop every single day.
We love you, you little gangsta.
Love,
Mama & Daddy
Month Six
Published August 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
This will go down in history as the month you grew too quickly. Oh yes. You see, Mommy just went back to read her Month Five letter to you, where she says such quaint things as “you’ve finally learned how to roll from belly to back” and “you are learning to crawl“. Haha. I know, right? You’re totally thinking GOSH MOM, THAT’S OLD NEWS, GET WITH THE PROGRAM.
You crawl like a speed demon all over the house, and we’ve had to put up gates or build mini-walls of laundry baskets to keep you in a safe, baby-proofed space. For a few days we didn’t even have to do that, but then you discovered you could go around the corner of the couch and that was it, your life changed forever. When Daddy and I blocked that area with a table and a rolling laundry cart, well, you just tugged on that cart and made it roll out of your way. While we appreciate (and are somewhat awed by) your intelligence and determination, it’s actually quite frightening.
A day before you really got the hang of the crawling thing, you mastered sitting. Literally, Maia, you had no interest in sitting, and then one day you were playing on the floor near the kitchen while I got a drink, then I looked over and there you were, SITTING STRAIGHT UP, all like “What up, homegirl?”
(you’re surprised to see me here, like “oh shit, she caught me!”)
Of course, all this movement comes with a price (besides my sanity): you fell down this month. You fell down A LOT this month. You’d sit up, beam at me, and in your excitement… THUNK! You’d topple right over, bonking your head on the carpet with this horrible, hollow, melon-esque sound. You tried to climb everything in the house and often ended up whacking your head against them. Your grandmas have a picture of you with all of your war wounds labelled that I will not share with the world, but it’s an accurate representation of how often, and how fast, you hurt yourself as you learned to move. Sometimes you’d wait a second before crying, as if in total shock, but most of the time you’d just start wailing. Mommy wailed with you a few times.
Yet you recovered more quickly than I did, and you have kept your sunny disposition this month.
Uh.
Actually, funny story, Maia: you’ve developed quite a personality, AND IT IS EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FATHER’S. So help me God, I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next eighteen years, but I think it might involve a lot of booze, hoarded chocolate, and expensive day-long trips to the spa, because your father used to be the most stubborn person I knew, but now you’ve taken that crown. You are also … mercurial. You will snuggle into me like I am the most precious person in the world, but then when I lean over to set you down you start to grunt, and the second your butt touches the ground you start the wailing and the teeth gnashing and the OHMIGOD MOMMY CATS SLEEPING WITH DOGS. This is when your father looks at me and says, “You know, maybe you shouldn’t kick her in the ribs, it seems to upset her,” but I’m pretty sure that even if I did, even if I were somehow an evil enough person to kick you in the ribs, it still would not make you cry as much as me setting you down when you want to snuggle does.
(And for the record, I tend to pick you back up, cause I like to snuggle you too. Don’t tell your grandpa.)
Very often this month, I’ve sat on the couch with a notebook or novel in hand as you roamed around on the floor. You really love your rattles and will often sit smashing them on the ground, then throw them a few feet away before chasing them down just to do it again. One time, I had a water bottle set next to the couch, and you smacked that bitch over before proceeding to chase it around the living room for literally fifteen minutes, squealing with glee every time it rolled away from under your hands. Do you know what I could have done with that fifteen minutes? I could have written a blog post, talked to your daddy, painted my finger nails, applied for a job, read a chapter of my book, played with the chihuahuas, made a sandwich… but no, I watched you. Because you were so vibrant in that time, so unbelievably charming and intrepid, and I both treasured and coveted your sense of wonder.
However, now when I sit on the couch, you do this:
You stand. Against the couch. You stare at me, and talk to me, and try to grab my book or eat my knee. Sometimes you even let go with one hand and flail your arm around as if you’re intentionally trying to give me a heart attack, and no word of a lie, you even let go with BOTH HANDS once. Then you laid your hands back on the couch and scooted over a few steps to slobber on my leg.
Last night, you were trying to stand while holding your stuffed turtle toy. You were having some difficulty grabbing on to the couch, so you stuck one of his fins in your mouth long enough to stand. And let me tell you, Maia, I was proud of you, but you were even prouder of yourself, because you looked up at me and your face just LIT UP as you smiled so big that you released the turtle, who promptly fell to the floor.
You watched him fall as if it were happening in slow motion, then bent down to pick him up. You wobbled back and forth, one hand gripping the couch, the other extended, inching towards the turtle…
… and then the Earth imploded.
Or at least, that’s how you acted. OH, THE HUMANITY! OH, THE HORROR! What an utter indignity against your person, that Mommy witnessed your ass plopping to the floor when you were trying to pick something up! This wasn’t your hurt cry or your “give me attention” cry, this was a pure, gut-deep wail of embarrassment the likes of which I had never heard before but imagine your father must have also given when he was your age. Because, again, you are his clone (with a vagina) (also no ding-a-ling).
As if sitting and standing weren’t enough, you’ve also taken to reaching for the food on our plates (and getting very pissed when we won’t let you have it, as you evidenced last night when I wouldn’t share my fried okra with you — I love you Maia, but NO ONE gets my fried okra), so we’ve begun exploring solids with you. You’ve had mixed reactions to these:
Maia, if next month goes at the same pace last month did, I fully expect you to be trying out for the next season of “So You Think You Can Dance” (which is our favourite show to watch together now that “Canada’s Next Top Model” is finished and we were both pissed over who lost). I suggest that you specialize in Broadway because, judging by the hysterics you’re so keen to share with us, you’re just MADE for drama.
The good thing about drama, though, is that it can be deeply loving and kind, just like you. You raise your arms for us to pick you up and hug us when we do, one arm around our shoulder and the other resting on our chest. You laugh and laugh when we kiss you or try to teach you how to kiss us. At bedtime, we all snuggle into bed, lie on our backs, and read nursery rhymes, and you stare up at the book as we point out the words to you or glance back and forth between us as we sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat. When the book is done, you invariably roll over towards your Daddy and stroke his face as if amazed at the stubble on his cheeks and the roughness of his goatee. And you smile, smile, smile.
Thanks for letting us be supporting actors in your drama, Maia. We couldn’t be happier to watch you on centre stage.
Love,
Mommy & Daddy
Month Five
Published July 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Today you turn five months old, and honestly? seriously? it’s only been five months that you’ve been in our lives? I find it hard to believe, because I truly cannot recall life before you.
Last month, you learned how to roll over onto your belly; this month, you’ve finally learned how to roll from belly to back. This means that, if we turn our backs to you for any period of time, you’re likely to end up all the way on the other side of the room, kicking your feet and grinning mischievously at us.
But let me show you what else you can do:
Yes, that’s right, you are learning to crawl. Already. It seems as though you may skip over the “army crawl” or “scooting” phase altogether and just get straight on with the big girl stuff, up on hands and knees. I must admit, I’m kind of scared of this, Maia. You see, your mama does not like to clean, nor does your daddy, and having to clean multiple times per day just to be sure you’re not eating anything more harmful than dog kibbles is not something I’m looking forward to.
You’re also chatting a lot. You have a great deal to say and are quite eager to say it, whether to us, your fursiblings, or your toys. You’re beginning to experiment with consonant sounds, and one of your favourite things to babble these days is “mamamamamama”. It makes my heart skip a beat when I hear you do this, and although your daddy insists that you cry “mama” when you’re upset, I’m fairly certain you are just making the only sound you really know how to. The alternative, that he’s right, that you actually are crying out for me, is such a sweet thought that I can’t even wrap my mind around it. The idea that you, my little love, my beautiful baby girl, my papaya, might understand that “mama” is me and that if you call for me, I will always come, is too grand for me to accept right now. I don’t want to imagine you are saying it. I want to know you are.
This month has also seen another amazing milestone: you have slept through the night three times. THREE. Now, I have no problem with you waking up and wanting to nurse, but I must admit that waking up panicked twice in the middle of the night because why isn’t my baby crying out for me? just to look over and see you sleeping has its own satisfactions — namely, that I get to fall back asleep and pretend I didn’t actually wake up. Then, in the morning when you wake up and I pull you into bed to cuddle, we fall asleep together with me feeling pleased that I got seven hours of sleep in a row (even though, technically, I woke up during it).
However, at least three times, you’ve also woken up at a seemingly random time in the wee hours and decided that you would like to stay awake for awhile, thank you very much. So I bring you out into the living room and you roll around on your blanket while babbling to me, and whilst you look absolutely adorable doing so, I feel cranky and wish we were sleeping. I know that someday you’ll outgrow all this and I, being wistful, will look back on it and feel nostalgic. I think. Possibly I’ll be too busy dealing with whatever new trauma you are putting me through to remember, but either way, you are definitely trying to give me gray hairs.
You are still quite fond of sucking your hand and have little to no interest in a pacifier, although you will take one if we’re in the car. On your right hand, you suck your thumb and forefinger together, and on your left, your middle and ring fingers. Your pinkie is never part of the equation, which I figure means you either hate it or haven’t discovered it yet. If it’s the former, I promise not to have it reconnected if you sever it; if it’s the latter, I imagine your pinkie will become your new BFF as soon as you realize it’s been there all this time, waiting, at the edge of your fist.
Speaking of your hands, the other day you stuck your thumb between your fore- and middle fingers, and I was suddenly reminded of how, when you were newly born (and not a grown-up five months old!) you always clenched your fists like that. All I could do was smile and try to grasp the enormity of how much you’ve changed.
Earlier this month, you visited your uncle Sean again while your daddy and I went out for a movie. Apparently you were absolutely miserable with him, screaming and crying so much that he thought you were hyperventilating. Despite that, however, he still smiled and kissed you when you left and said he would love to babysit you any time. He loves you, Maia, just like everyone does, and I can’t wait to see how you interact with your aunt and uncles as you grow up.
There is so much I could say about you. There is so much I want to say about you, but there just aren’t words powerful enough to contain my thoughts. I know, someday you’ll read this and roll your eyes, remembering how I’ve recently slighted you by not letting you do something you wanted to, nevermind that I probably had a really good reason for it. Someday you’ll read this and think you don’t understand me Mom, you never have, and you never will!
And on that day I will just smile at you, my darling daughter, and think of how you don’t understand me. You’ll forget all of these things we do together now, all the hours of playing, talking, and teaching one another about life. You’ll forget nuzzling your head into my shoulder, or your daddy’s, eyes wide open as your hands grip us tightly and you just observe, learning.
But me? I won’t forget. I won’t, because I write to remember every moment of your life that I can. You are our world, Maia, and I can only hope that we raise you well enough that someday, you understand that.
I love you,
Mama.
Month Four
Published June 13, 2009 | 
Dear Maia,
Yesterday morning, you got fussy. I held you close to me, stroked your hair, and kissed your round cheeks. You didn’t calm, so I turned on some music — Augustana’s “Boston” — and started singing to you. You calmed, staring at me with those beautiful eyes that shift from brown to hazel inside a ring of that dark slate gray you came to us with. And as I sang of self-discovery and needing to move on in life, I started to cry. This all will change, someday, when you don’t want to be held and sung to.
But you know what, my little love? Someday, we’ll be holding hands, singing, and dancing. Someday, you’ll be lying in bed sick and sleepy, and I’ll stroke your brow while singing you to sleep. Someday, we’ll be in the car together with the radio blaring, singing at the top of our lungs, and you’ll cast a proud grin at me from your spot in the front seat as you carry a note longer and more purely than me. Maybe on that day, I’ll cry again, realizing how far we’ve come from yesterday.
This month has been amazing. I keep thinking back on it and I can’t even believe how much you’ve grown.
You took your first road trip, to Connecticut, to visit my side of the family. You met so many new people and charmed every one of them with your beauty, your sweet personality, and your alert, eager gaze.
RASPBERRIES. Holy crap. You blow so many raspberries that I honestly can’t believe you can produce that much spit. Sometimes you wake up from naps and amuse yourself for a few minutes just by blowing raspberries. It’s hilarious, and I sit here listening to you with a huge smile curving my lips, because fuck, you’re so cute it makes my brain melt.
You learned how to roll onto your belly. This is slightly terrifying to me (insofar as anything “terrifying” can be quantified as “slightly”), because it’s a sign of impending mobility. YOU CAN MOVE ON YOUR OWN. Your favourite thing to do is roll onto your belly and then holler at us to flip you back over… so now I’m really looking forward to when you can roll from belly to back.
And when you’re on your stomach, you can raise your head so high. You watch everything. You especially like your fursiblings, and while Buffy seems convinced that if she just pretends you’re not there you will go away, Joss thinks you are pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread. Or carrots. Or whatever the heck dogs think is awesome. If I’m not watching you, he’ll come running up and lick your face, making you squint and shake your head like what the hell was that?! I think that if I didn’t have teeth and a dog ran his tongue over my gums I’d have much the same reaction, and I don’t fault you for attempting to get revenge when you try to sneakily grab his ears and stuff them in your mouth when you are both in my lap.
Oh, you and stuffing things in your mouth. Haha. This is your favourite thing to do, now. If your fingers aren’t in your mouth, they’re reaching for something to put in there. A blanket, a rattle, Joss’ ear, the sensitive hairs at the nape of my neck, your Daddy’s lip… you don’t discriminate. IT MUST GO IN YOUR MOUTH. Strangely, however, you’ve stopped nursing as much and, in fact, if I try to offer you boob when you are not hungry, you arch your back and scream like I’m skinning you alive. Excuse the fuck out of me for trying to sustain your life.
You know what else your screaming led to this month? Your first hospital visit. That sucked, and I’d prefer not to do it again. In fact, I’d prefer not to talk about it any more than I already have, so, moving on…
You’ve begun using your hands more precisely. You’re by no means a pro at it, but if I hold something in front of you for long enough, you’re going to grab it (then it’ll go into your mouth).
You laugh. Not often, but often enough. The other day, we sat on the balcony together with the dogs, and every time one of them would run by you’d laugh. I admit, I kept calling them over and then shooing them away, just to hear you.
And I have to say, every time you roll onto your belly and soothe yourself to sleep, my heart aches. I’m so proud of you, yet at the same time it’s another sign that you’re growing towards independence from me.
Grow slowly. I need you. We love you.
Love,
Mama.
Month Three
Published May 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Today you turn three months old and, unlike the past two months, I don’t feel like the time has flown by; I feel like you’ve been here forever and I can’t believe it’s been ONLY three months. You are such an integral part of every day — in fact, I’d say that every day revolves around you, your emotions, and your actions. And if that sounds awesome to you, believe me, just you wait until you have a baby. It is awesome, but it’s also EXHAUSTING.
Taking care of you is the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced. Everything is so intense and in-the-moment with you; there’s no thinking about yesterday or tomorrow, only living in the here and now. Now you want to be carried around; now you want to eat; now you are going to take a nap. It still amazes me how absolutely tempestuous you are; you have your father’s temper and my attitude, and I just hope that we’re strong enough to handle that when you’re older. If not, I apologize ahead of time for shipping you off to live with your Babcia, but I promise, it’s for your own good. Seriously.
This month has been my favourite so far. Sometimes I think I’d keep you at this age forever if I could (then I remember how much you’ve been pooping lately and change my mind). You’ve had admirable control of your neck and head for a long time now, but we’ve really noticed it lately. You know why? Because you have a new favourite thing to do. Daddy or I take you out onto the balcony (and stand several feet away from the edge!), hold you so you’re facing the road, and you watch the cars go by. Maia, you stare those cars down as if they are the most fascinating things in the world, and your brain can’t quite keep up with how fast they go so you whip your head around in increments until the car is out of sight — or until another one drives by. It’s hilarious, and I can’t believe how proud of you it makes me feel.
Last week we took you to the Farmer’s Market for the first time. I know you don’t quite understand what it all is yet, but you had fun seeing the shiny red tomatoes, the purple tips of the asparagus, and the bright green bell peppers. I have been looking forward to bringing you there ever since you were born, because I want you to understand how fun and healthy it is to eat fresh, local produce and support the farmers. I can’t wait to buy you your own little set of kid-friendly kitchen knives
Early this month, you learned how to roll onto your side. You repeated this trick endlessly for several days, and then stopped, as if you were happy at having mastered it and you didn’t need to practice anymore. So imagine my surprise when Sunday night I went in to check on you as you slept and you were laying on your side, fist to your lips, totally asleep. I almost turned on the light because I couldn’t figure out how you were laying at first and I was worried as to why one of your arms was flopped over your torso, since you almost always sleep with at least one arm up over your head (much like me).
The most amazing thing you’ve done this month is start holding “conversations” with us. As usual, first thing in the morning you are the happiest, most smiley person in this household, and now you’re also the most talkative. You squeak, you squeal, you explore new sounds, while Daddy and I try to keep up with it all and repeat after you. Hand-in-hand with this, you have decided that the camera is a very interesting item to look at, and every time I try to get a video of you talking to us, you stop and stare at the camera with your big, beautiful dark eyes. I have twenty videos attempting to capture you talking, and not a single one does, except for one where I think Joss comes and stands in front of the camera and you’re obscured by his fluffy butt. It’s okay though. I won’t delete any of them.
Speaking of your eyes, they are beginning to change. Daddy and I have been waiting and waiting to find out what colour your eyes would be, and now around the pupil they are beginning to show hints of brown. But it’s the kind of brown that lends itself to hazel, and I hear that babies with one blue-eyed and one brown-eyed parent can tend to have hazel eyes, so we’ll see! Regardless, even if they stayed the colour they are now forever, you’ll still make me swoon.
Soon, we will be going to visit Connecticut, and I’m sure you’re going to hate the car ride all the way there and back, but I can’t wait for you to meet my side of the family. Babcia hasn’t seen you since you were born, and you’ve never met your Aunt Katie or Uncle Jared or your great-grandparents or all of the other relatives out there. It might get a little overwhelming but I promise you, there will come a time when you’ll be begging us to go to Connecticut to see them all, and I only hope we can indulge you.
Because really, if I can spend the rest of my life spoiling you, I will. Don’t tell Daddy, though.
Love,
Mama.
Month Two
Published April 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Today you turn two months old and, just like last month, I’m stuck between amazement at how time has flown by and disbelief that it’s only been that long. This morning as we laid in bed together, I rested my hand on my stomach and remembered being pregnant, feeling you kicking and pushing — but I couldn’t think of what it was that I did all day without you around. Then I tried to remember life before the pregnancy, and it came to me in bits and pieces: a vacation to Florida, a trip to Connecticut, taking pictures with Daddy in Montreal, or bringing home the puppies. These memories seemed more like remnants of a dream than anything that ever happened to me, as if I only drew breath when you did.
Despite our love for you, there’s no denying that this month has been difficult. You’ve grown more aware and responsive, but at the same time, you’re very demanding. I’m surprised there’s not a path worn in our flooring from how many hours Daddy and I have spent carrying you back and forth around the apartment, shushing you, trying to make you happy. There was one night where you cried for four hours straight — and of course this was quite late, when Daddy had to work the next day. But you know what? As soon as he came out to help us, you fell asleep in his arms.
This month, you two have become something like best friends. We joke that you’re Queen Maia, he’s Prince Daddy, and I’m Mommy the Milkmaid. There have literally been times when you two are together, I’ve walked over to say hello, you’ve taken one look at me, and started to wail. Fortunately, I have a sense of humour about this, or else you might just hurt my feelings. Although that said, he did scare you the other day. He was raising you up in the air, over his head, and you loved this, so he thought that maybe you’d like to be lowered as well; he pretended to drop you from his waist to his knees and you screamed, this frightened, high-pitched, endless wail. You were terrified. We felt horrible, and Daddy cuddled you close until you calmed down.
If there’s only one memory I could hold on to from this month, it would be seeing you smile for the first time. It was 5am and you decided that was a perfectly good time to wake up for awhile, so we went out into the living room together. I laid you down on the couch and played with you — and then, you beamed. Your mouth opened wide, the corners of it curled up, your dimple appeared, and your eyes wrinkled up with joy. Maia, you could wake me up every hour of the night, as long as you smile at me. I went and woke your Daddy up to let him know, but it took another week before you started smiling at him. Now, every morning, you are in a happy mood and you smile at us while “talking”. It makes starting the day so much easier!
For the last few days, you’ve been trying to laugh. This is hilarious, since it means you draw a big breath and then you squeal or yell, very loudly, while smiling. I know that within the next week or two you’ll start giving us those giggles that you so desperately are trying to find, and of course I’m more than willing to help you, and I’ve probably tickled you more in these few days than I have in the rest of your life.
You’re also “standing” a lot. Sometimes when we’re holding you, you stretch out your legs (we refer to this as “Legs of Steel”) and push off us. We’ll swing you backwards and pull you back up, but that’s not always enough, and you want to be held straight up so you can put all your weight on your feet. Then you straighten your back, hold your head up, and talk to us. You’re only eight weeks old, Maia! Stop trying to grow up so fast.
Every day with you is different from the one before. Sometimes you’ll nap all day, sometimes you’ll be awake for ten hours in a row. Sometimes you are incredibly happy, sometimes you cry no matter what we do. Sometimes you’re interested in us, sometimes you want to look at toys instead. We can’t predict you, and as frustrating as it can be to have to think outside of the box, I love that you expand our horizons. People say they start to think differently when they have a child, and I understand that now. It’s not just that I have to think about how to take care of someone else, or how the world will impact you, but I have to find new ways of looking at situations. I have to try and think like a baby, and that’s difficult with twenty-six years of life experience. But it’s amazing.
We are so in love with you, baby girl. Even when you wear us out.
Love,
Mama.
Month One
Published March 13, 2009 | Dear Maia,
Today you turn one month old, and I can’t believe you’ve only been here four weeks. It feels like you’ve always been a part of our life, as if we’ve known you forever; I really don’t remember what things were like when we didn’t have you here. And yet I still feel as if the past month has flown by, as if I just held you in my arms for the first time yesterday.
You’ve grown so much in the past month. Physically, you’re 10 lb and 13 oz already, which means you’ve put on a little more than 2 lbs since birth. You can hold your head up at a 45 degree angle when we give you tummy time, and you’ve even supported your head by itself when we hold you sitting up on our laps. You love to stare at the television anytime you can and will even swivel your head to watch it — so I’ve taken to turning off the television if you’re going to be facing it, and I’ll just read or look at you instead. You are so easy to watch; time passes in a daze when I sit and look at you.
Mentally, you are more aware of your surroundings. You are so interested in everything — except, it seems, the chihuahuas. They walk up to you and sniff you, and you look at everything other than them. This is okay, I figure, since soon enough you’ll learn how to grab at them (particularly their soft ears and long tails), and then I’ll have to teach you how to treat animals with love and kindness.
You have a very easy-going personality so far. You love to be held, but sometimes we can put you in your bouncy chair or swing and you’ll be happy just resting there. Funny enough, the harder we push the swing, the happier you are in it; I think this means that you will love to ride roller coasters with me while your daddy waits for us. You love car rides as well, even though you hate when we put you into your carseat when you’re awake… then we swing the carseat back and forth, and you calm right down.
Yesterday afternoon, you and I were laying on the couch to take a nap, but I wasn’t quite asleep. I was watching you. As usual, your face flickered with all of your beautiful expressions — the dimpled smile, the angry old man frown, the gassy furrowed brow, the angelic pursed and slightly parted lips that is probably your kissy face (and you are never allowed to make at a boy). And then you giggled. We had never heard that sound from you before, and when I looked up at your daddy he had a huge smile on his face to match my own. Then you giggled again! Daddy and I started to laugh with one another. I can’t wait until you start giggling regularly. The whole household will be filled with such joy.
Everyone in the family adores you, and you seem to enjoy visiting places. Sometimes you are hungry and it seems like you spend the entire visit feeding, but sometimes you are wide awake, being passed between people, and you seem happy to look at these new faces or even fall asleep against these new chests. I have to admit that after awhile I really want you back in my arms and I miss you, even when you are just a few feet away being held by someone else. Still, with you around, daddy and I are very excited about family get-togethers now.
You are an amazing little girl, and we are so delighted to have you in our life. I’ve never seen your daddy smile so much, and I’ve never been more in love with him. I didn’t know that bringing a baby into our world would make everything seem so much brighter. We love you desperately, and watching you grow up is going to be a blessing.
Happy one month birthday, Maia.
Love,
Mama.