When Maia & I are at home and we head outside to play, I bring a ball with us.  Today, Maia showed me that she’s apparently learned how to play soccer.

It’s crazy how big she’s getting.

I know she won’t.

Today, as she shovelled Cheerios into her mouth, I put my coffee down on the table beside her.  As usual, she stopped to look at it, and although she’s learned not to put her fingers in it, she likes to lean close and hold her hand over the top to feel the steam rising.  Today, I tried to show her how to sniff and breathe in the smell, leaving her laughing at Mama’s wrinkled nose and exclamations of “MMMM, COFFEE!”

She won’t remember these days.

But there’s something profoundly comforting in knowing that the aroma of hazelnut creamer will remind her of comfort, and home, and me, many many years into the future.

Which scents bring memories back for you?

provided by firemen…

and brunch (with mimosas!)…

served by firemen.

Those funds would be put towards rescuing puppies.

Or buying some shirts for these firemen.

But I think I’d rather my money went towards the puppies.

How about you?

Sometimes, however, when Maia brings us books, she has something more devious in mind than using us.  She settles down into my lap, talks to me in her wordless way about it, then as soon as I start reading she stands up, grabs the coffee table, and hauls herself up onto it.  Now, I know I shouldn’t let my daughter climb on tables, but the way she casts a triumphant grin at me over her shoulder is kinda charming, and she’s pretty damned proud of herself.   And she is apparently part monkey, because you would not believe how fast she climbs up there.  I guarantee it’s faster than you read that sentence.

She’s a mischievous one, my Maia.

Today you turn eleven months old, and all I can think is how young that seems.  When I think of you, I think of a kid; when I think of an eleven month old, I think of a baby.  But you’re not.  You walk, talk, interact; you have a distinct personality, you know what you like (and don’t like), you are fiercely independent, and above all, you are fun.  Babies?  They’re definitely not as fun.

You love to dance and clap.  I don’t really like to leave the television if I’m not watching something in particular, but it’s tempting to when I know that any music — fast, slow, awesome or stupid — is going to catch your attention and cause you to start shaking your groove thang.

This past month has been an exciting one for you, with Grandma visiting, going to see family, and your first Christmas, as well as other fun things like taking Buffy to the vet on Boxing Day (stupid dog) and going to see the Olympic torch pass through our town.  People keep asking me if you “get” Christmas, and if by that they mean do you understand the concept of celebrating Jesus’ birth or Santa Claus bringing presents then, no, you don’t “get” Christmas.  But if they’re really asking whether you had fun celebrating the holiday, then the answer is an emphatic yes.

You enjoyed the Christmas gatherings, and although you were not terribly interested in opening presents (a fact which blows my mind, because if we were to give you a newspaper, you’d spend the next half hour shredding it and squealing with glee), you sure did like them once they were out of the wrapping paper.

By far, your favourite presents were the blocks.  Babcia and Grandma both got you blocks, which is great because you now have enough that, no matter where you go in the house, there will always be a block hiding out somewhere nearby.  Mommy and Daddy are marginally less thrilled at this fact than you are.

You also love your books (not so much the puppet in the background, obviously).  You were given something like four or five books for Christmas, and you like to bring them to me one at a time to read.  The one you’re holding in this picture, How Do I Love You?(aff) made me cry the first time I read it to you, because it’s so damned sweet.

I have to say, though, that your favourite part of this month was going to visit Santa.  Not because of Santa himself — you see, in that picture you have your worried face on, your oh shit why are Mommy & Daddy not holding me? face — but because here, you met your soulmate: Man Playing Guitar And Singing.

You stared at this guy for like four or five minutes, Maia, and every time we moved you away you just beelined back to him.  You weren’t interested in dancing or clapping with his music; you simply wanted to watch him in amazement.

Since then, you’ve learned how to point at things that intrigue you, which I’m somewhat grateful you didn’t understand then as you would have pointed at him the whole time, as if we didn’t already know you were interested.  Here at home, you point at things like the floaty balloon that came attached to my birthday flowers, or the dogs, or the mirror, and we show them to you, and you are delighted with the fact that you are communicating with us clearly — or more accurately, you’re delighted that we’re listening.

You really enjoy pointing at the pictures on the walls — they’re pictures of you.  We got them for Daddy for Father’s Day.  I hold you, point at each of the 14 pictures, and describe what is going on in them.  Mostly we giggle together — Maia doesn’t like her hat! is a pretty funny picture, I must admit — but there is one picture that always makes me stop in my tracks, so it’s the last one we look at together.

I say, “This is brand-new Maia, not even a minute old,” and I start to choke up as I look at you, naked and pink and squinty-eyed, curled up on my chest, your dark hair plastered to your forehead, your perfect little pouty lips, your hand pressed to my skin.  That you were ever so small and new baffles me, and I can’t believe that from that new little creature has sprung this active, sassy toddler.

You are still so exquisitely perfect that it makes my heart hurt, though.  I love every moment of being your Mama better than the last, and we are so lucky to have you in our life.

All our love,
Mama & Daddy.

The dogs circle below her as she eats, and every once in awhile they get excited.  They begin whimpering and prancing around on their hind legs, and sometimes they’ll even yelp/bark in anticipation.  Joss did this when a strand of spaghetti dangled from Maia’s tray, just out of his reach, and Chris hollered, “JOSS!” It scared the dog, and it scared Maia too.

She startled so hard that she shook the tray, then she stared at Chris in amazement.  He apologized for frightening her, looked back at the tv — and she yelled at him!  I laughed and laughed and laughed.  What an attitude!

BlogHer ‘09
This conference spawned many a blog post, both before and after the event, as well as its own spin-off for those of us who couldn’t get there — BlogHer@Home.  From the anticipation of what to wear to meet Tim Gunn to the Nikon party drama to swag whore behaviour to the aftermath of attendees recapping their experiences, talk of BlogHer ‘09 dominated the summer.

Maytag-gate
When Dooce’s Maytag washing machine crapped out, everyone heard about it.  Some people were pissed that she was “bullying” the company, others thought it was all overblown melodrama, and some were completely on her side.  In the end, though, a women’s shelter ended up getting some new appliances, and I think we can all agree that’s awesome.

Maddie (& Binky)
Madeline Spohr’s passing devastated the parenting blogosphere.  I don’t know of a single mother who heard this story and didn’t feel instant compassion for Heather and Mike and deep, abiding sorrow — and love — for Madeline.  The founding of Friends of Maddie, a charity in her memory that provides support to families with babies in the NICU, has provided a way for everyone to continue showing their love for this beautiful little girl who left us too soon. Heather’s pregnancy with Maddie’s little sister, dubbed Binky, has been avidly followed and cheered on, and we can’t wait to read about her in 2010.

Nic & the TSA
In October, blogger Nic White tweeted and blogged frantically about how TSA agents in Atlanta took her son out of her sight for ten minutes.  Parents were up in arms – how could such a thing happen?  It was terrifying!  An abuse of power! Err… not so much.  The next day, the TSA began sending out links on Twitter to a video that almost completely contradicted Nic’s story.  Some of us were angry at and hurt by Nic’s (apparent) lies; some supported her unwaveringly; some were concerned about how this reflected on bloggers as a whole.  Altogether, though, it was a really messy happening that strained, and in some cases broke, friendships.

Stellan
In July, Twibbons began appearing on people’s avatars for a little boy named Stellan.  He was having heart troubles and was in the hospital in critical condition.  We worried for him, we hoped for him, we prayed for him, and he emerged from his troubles victoriously.  Then, in November, he had a successful emergency procedure performed on his heart that has, hopefully, cured his ills and left him a healthy, strong little boy.

Anissa
In mid-November, Anissa Mayhew suffered a stroke.  The amount of support that poured out for her was (and remains) incredible.  130 bloggers showed their love for her in an incredibly touching video and there have been countless blog posts and tweets praying for her, as well as an online auction to raise funds for her medical expenses.  Her recovery has been incredible thus far and we’re all looking forward to hearing from her in the new year.

Aiming Low
Related to Anissa, she founded Aiming Low, a website with an all-star roster of female bloggers dedicated to being “perfectly not-perfect exactly as you are“.

Nestle Boycott
Spurred by the list of attendees of the Nestle Family conference, Annie of PhD in Parenting (whose influence makes her practically a top story in and of herself) spearheaded a movement to raise awareness of a Nestle boycott that has existed since the 70s in response to their formula marketing practices.  At Halloween, the #boonestle hashtag was established to help tweeps show their support for and/or participation in the boycott.

Military Mom
In December, Shellie Ross experienced the loss of her two year old son by drowning, a tragic event bookended by tweets.  News outlets and other bloggers called her monitoring of her son into question, but some were quick to show their support for her through her grief.

Honourable mentions:
The first Type-A Mom Conference
Twitter parties (in particular #GNO)
Books – The Mominatrix’s Guide to Sex, Kirtsy Takes a Bow, The Pioneer Woman Cooks

What did I miss?  What were some stories of 2009 that you found to be particularly powerful?

On Christmas day, we were visiting family, and in attendance were two other children — a ten year old girl, and a four year old girl.  They got along really well with one another, and although they idly interacted with Maia here and there, they were more interested in racing around the house together and playing with each other.

Maia wanted to play with them, though.

Whenever they entered the room, she lit up, watching them.  She offered them her blocks.  She watched them leave the room and toddled after them.  When they went down into the basement, where I wouldn’t let her go, she stood at the door and watched them walk away, her palms pressed to the glass, her brow furrowed in worry.

All of the adults, of course, wanted to play with her, and she loved it a little bit, but we were nothing in comparison to the Big Girls.

At the end of the night, the girls went into the living room and started dancing while listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack.  Maia loves music, and next thing I knew, this happened:

My heart exploded with love.  The three of them danced and danced; it was amazing, beautiful, and it filled Maia with so much joy.

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

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