an 11-month belated newsletter

I am going to try, inspired by the excellent dooce and magic cookie, to start doing 1 month newsletters for the boy. Yes, it's a bit late to start, but hey, better late than never, right?

11 months
Dear B-

January was a big month for you and us. We moved into our own place- great for me (no more cooking dinners of bland child-friendly food for 7 people!), great for your dad (no more children sitting on his head as he tries to play Madden!) but not so great for you, as you no longer get to see some of the people you love most in the world- J, K, and E- on a daily basis. It breaks my heart when we go back up to their house and you start flapping your arms in happiness- now THIS, you seem to be saying, THIS is home. You fall into their arms and the mom-clinginess I see with you at home, at daycare, even with your dad, is nowhere. Mom who? It is great. But, well, kid, your parents value their sanity more than your happiness. So change has come.

But back to you. You rock. Your newest thing is feeding ME your food- and your sippy cup, and your pacifier. It's kind of nasty, but I pretend pretty good. You are really enjoying your new-found hand clapping skills- to Bingo, Pattycake, even songs that are not traditionally accompanied by clapping, like you are my sunshine. But that's okay, we're not purists. I've had to change the songs I sing so there are more fast songs we can try and clap to- so less john gorka, more paul simon. I AM accustomed to a smoth ride. I hope I've not lost my bite. And yes, sadly, I don't expect to sleep through the night. But, veering away from my narsicism for just a few more minutes and back to you- it's so great how just the motion of putting the hands together seems to make you so happy.

I think your first word is coming. And I think its going to be cat. I am pretty sure I heard you say it today when I pointed to the dogs on our walk- so, well, you may not have a perfect comprehension of what a cat is, but you know it's something non-human. And that is enough so that your mom knows you are a genius.

The last week has been rough for all of us- sickness, sickness. You've been easy to cry- who knew having a piece of paper pried out of your hands (like that doesn't happen about 15x a day) could be a world-ending event? Well now I know. But even with this fragility, there's been those happy happy baths- man you like to splash. And, ar ar ar, we'd better eat those delicious tiny hands- yeah, you like that too.

Smell ya later-
Mom