Dear Ana,
Happy Birthday my little bug! Today you turn twelve months, or one year, old. The other day a lady asked how old you were and I said “almost twelve months” to which she promptly replied, “Oh! A year!” Then it hit me that I have really got to get use to not saying your age in terms of months–you are on to YEARS, baby!
Once people hear how old you are, the first thing they ask is if you are walking. While not technically “walking” you are definitely taking steps. Last week you started doing what we refer to as “the pivot.” You would be holding on to something, step, and grab on to the next thing. Only one of your feet actually moved; hence the pivot. But in the last couple days you have taken full on steps. You are still incredibly cautious and only take small, manageable steps between things, but it is progress!
While I love that you are learning new things and meeting all your milestones perfectly, the best thing about you walking is how excited you get. When you take a step you are so proud of yourself you squeal and shake your hands or clap in sheer delight. Watching you take chances and dare to try new things makes me so proud to be your mother.
Naturally as you get older the way we do certain things has to evolve and adapt to your needs. This has happened with getting you to sleep. For the longest time I would nurse you and then rock or cuddle you to sleep. However, as your mobility increases and your desire to GET UP AND GO! is physically possible, the rocking and cuddling is no longer an option. We have started just putting you in your crib and within a few minutes of pathetic whimpering you fall fast asleep. However from time to time, you like to express your displeasure with being in bed the only way you know how. The result? Stuffed animal carnage. You have started emptying the contents of your crib one thing at a time until your bedroom floor is littered with stuffed animals. The only problem with this is that you quickly run out of animals and tend to throw your blankie and binky (which help you sleep) out as well. So on nights like this, your father or I come back in your room, return all the items to their place, hand you your blankie and binky, which you promptly accept and drift off to sleep. Silly little girl.
Speaking of silly sleep issues, I am fairly certain that you have inherited your mother’s sleep habits. You see, I have been known to do strange things in my sleep, ranging from sleep walking and talking, to yelling at your father to take the sheets off the bed in the middle of the night. A few nights ago I went into your room to check on you before I went to bed and as I walked into the room you stirred. I quickly froze, afraid I had waken you up, when you rolled over onto your hands and knees and started crawling. I was sure you were awake, except that as you crawled, you bumped into the edge of the crib, crumpled down and started snoring. You totally sleep crawled! It was simultaneously the cutest and creepiest thing I had seen you do. However, it does help me to understand how you end up in such strange sleep positions!
This month you have really started acting like a girl. Not only do you love to get into your Mama’s make-up drawer, but you love talking on the phone. As soon as I set down the phone you quickly rush over, put it to your ear and say, “Hi…Da-dee.” In fact, it doesn’t even have to be an actual phone. Just about anything you find becomes a phone…
Or a hairbrush. If something is not suitable for chatting into in your own little language, it promptly gets run through your hair. It is just about the cutest thing ever.
Well, that’s not entirely true. In my opinion, everything you do is the cutest thing ever. However, I am pretty biased since I did MAKE YOU. But in all honesty, you truly make everything better. I love seeing the world through your eyes. Books are more exciting when you are turning the pages. Ice cream tastes better when I share it with you. Things are funnier when you laugh at them with me. Thank you for each and every moment we spend together. It’s been an amazing first year.
All my love,
Mama
