Oh my darling girl,
You’re getting so close to one year and it’s giving me all the feels. These past ten months have flown by and I’m sad that you’re growing so quickly, while also reveling in all your new developments. You’re my baby and I’m trying to hold onto you as long as I can, even as your chubby legs are starting to get stronger and your tummy is starting to lose the baby fat.
I remember the exact moment when I realized that Henry was growing up. It was when he was much older than you are, probably two or so, and I picked him up and he fit his legs perfectly around my waist as he sat on my hip. And I realized that there would quickly come a day when he wouldn’t fit on my hip anymore. (Spoiler: just yesterday I tried to pick him up so he could see something and he doesn’t fit anymore.) You’re still firmly in the fit-on-my-hip stage and you love being held so you’ll find me or your daddy anywhere, climb up against our legs, and beg to be held.
You have recently started laughing this sort of fake ha-ha-ha laugh. It’s ornery and always makes me laugh. The first time you did it was when we were playing with your stacking cups. The more you could make them crash, the more you’d laugh. I could hardly get three stacked before you’d attack like it was a spider that needed to die. It was endlessly hilarious and fun…for both of us.
You have both bottom front teeth in and your smile is adorable. The top two are working their way in and they’re taking us down with them. There was nearly a full week where you’d just cry. Our normally happy little girl would just wail. The only time you weren’t crying was when you were sleeping and that was often interrupted by you waking up and crying. It was exhausting. To top it off, your nose was a constant faucet and all the wiping made it raw. You developed a little cold too so your voice was hoarse and, girl, it was just a mess. The teeth haven’t come in yet, but you do seem to be feeling better for now and we’re thankful to have you back to yourself again.
You are a mover. And I mean that quite literally. You can crawl faster than I can run and just last night, you spent 15 minutes rolling around like a crazy person on Henry’s bed while I was reading him a story. The more tangled you’d get, the more fun you thought it was. If you managed to get out from the mess of blankets and covers, you’d just dive face-first back in again. I tried several times to take pictures of you this month and the moment I’d lay you down, you’d roll over and crawl away. When I tried to put you back, you just thought it was a game and would roll over even faster than before. I managed exactly one photo—one—and the only reason I got that one was because I distracted you for 1/200th of a second with one of your stacking cups while I stood up and took the photo. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to grab two more months of these overhead photos…
We’re in November now so it’s that post-fall/pre-winter season where some days are gorgeous and 60 degrees and some days are wintery gloomy and 40. You hate bundling up already and you especially hate being in your carseat. You somehow turn your head and get your hat all crooked so the earflaps are over your eyes then you freak out (appropriately) because you can’t see. We’ve got a lot of winter ahead of us, my darling.
You’re nearly to the point of standing on your own. Every once in a while, you forget to hold onto something and let go, then you teeter, grab on, and balance yourself out again. Your doctor thinks you might be walking before your birthday and I tend to agree.
You’re at such a fun age and I get panicky thinking about how fast you’re growing, like time is just running away from me. October was, as it usually is, a really, really busy month for me with work and so I think that has added to the anxiety because it feels like it all just went so fast, these last 31 days. Here’s to slowing down and taking in the moments.
I love you so much, my darling girl. I cannot imagine a world without you in it. I’m so thankful I have the joy of having my world flipped upside down to be a mother, not just once, but twice over.
I love you, Perrin Lorae.
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