Happy Halloween
Princess Leia and Yoda
Princess Leia and Yoda
Princess Leia and Yoda
10 Months
Mr. Tate,
Today you are 10 months old. Yes, it’s true. Double digits. Good lord.
This month you have advanced past your age limit and are starting to walk. Dude….STOP! STOP IT NOW! You have been standing and walking while holding on to shelves and walls and toys for a while now, but a week ago Lucy and I were playing soccer in the front yard while you sat in the grass a few feet from us. You were probably eating leaves or doing something else you shouldn’t have been when I looked over and saw you standing there. You took one look at Lucy (and the bright pink soccer ball she was kicking around), smiled and took one huge step in her direction. She and I both started screaming and you promptly fell on your butt, looking at us like we were insane. Which, let’s face it, we are.
I am excited you are developing so well, and so quickly, but I also want to hit the pause button. Yesterday when I picked you up from daycare you were literally running around the room, holding yourself up with some walker toy they have. Today when I dropped you off, I mentioned they could feel free to chain you to the floor. Dude, you’re gonna learn that sometimes, when Mama makes jokes, people assume she’s serious and look at her like she is the worst. You’ll learn to laugh it off. Or, if you’re like your sister, you’ll learn to roll your eyes.
You have been saying “Dada” for a couple of months, but just this past week you started saying “ball.” And woah, dude, you love balls. [If you are reading this 13 years in the future, I want you to stop laughing right now, I didn’t mean it like that!] You see a bouncy ball across the room and your whole body tightens up, like you can’t contain the excitement. I find myself treating you a bit like Bam Bam from The Flintstones, just giving you something to bang on to occupy your time. Hey, whatever works, you know?
Your personality is changing and expanding as well, little dude. I hate to say it, but you are turning into a bit of a drama queen. Most of the time you are super mellow, just taking in everything around you, but if anything is out of whack (you feel sick/tired/hungry) you turn in to a ball of tears so quickly, it makes my head spin. The other day you were such a grump, you cried whenever anyone looked at you. Literally, you’d sit there happy as can be, and then you’d make eye contact with someone in the room and burst into tears. The minute they’d look away, you’d stop crying and continue on with your business. Well, excuuuuusee me, crabby pants.
I love you, Mr. Man. I love how you growl at people whenever they have food, until they give it to you. I love how bananas you go whenever you realize pounding on something will make a loud noise. I love how you squeal with glee when you see your sister in the morning. I love how the minute you see something you know you shouldn’t have, you make a beeline straight for it (sister’s room, dog bowl, toilet), cackling with glee the entire way. I even love how you’ve learned to shake your head “no.”
But seriously, do Mama a solid and say my name next. No more of this “dada” and “ball” crap. Cool?
Love,
Mama
9 Months
Why, hello, Mr. Tater Tot!
Tomorrow you will be nine months old. Yes, I said tomorrow. So why am I writing this today? Well, mister, tomorrow is my birthday and I’m turning twenty-nine and I’m having a bit of a weird panic attack about it, so I’m gonna need to focus on that. And wine. Lots of wine.
Back to you, my lovely little boy. This month we began to see glimpses of the terror that will surely be our future. You’re moving, like really, really, moving, and I’m not sure what the heck to do. You went from scooting to crawling to standing to climbing on to stuff to opening kitchen drawers and smashing your fingers in just a few short weeks. And can I tell you what the most annoying part about all that is? I have to vacuum ALL THE TIME. Between the dog hair and the teeny, tiny crap that Lucy has amassed all over the house, it’s basically a death trap. So most evenings you will find me with the broom and the vacuum, with a crazy glint in my eye, as I try to make the house baby safe. You’re still alive, so I guess I’m succeeding so far.
We moved you to a new daycare this month, the same one your sister attended for years prior to elementary school. They decided to open an infant room and as you were on the waiting list for a toddler spot when you were older, they called us to give us a first shot. You should have seen me when I got that call, Tater, I was so happy. This place is where Lucy made her best friends, learned so much, had amazing teachers…when I drop you off here, I can imagine your future. I see you running around the playground and strutting around in the Halloween parade and meeting Santa for the first time. Being a working parent means you really take the “it takes a village to raise a child” mentality to heart, and I have so much trust in these wonderful people that are taking care of you every day. Within a week, the cold that had been plaguing you for weeks cleared up, you were napping again, and you were happy at the end of the day. It is glorious.
This month was also the first time I was really tested as a parent with a sick kid. What started out as a small cold turned into a full blown flu, with vomit and diarrhea and fevers and lots and lots of tears. Yours. Mine. Lucy’s. It was horrible. Holding your sick, sad body while you moaned in pain, knowing there was really nothing I could do, and hearing your sister throwing up in the next room. And then as she started to get healthy, the bug got me too. Your dad was away for work, and I have never felt so alone. Usually I am the experienced mom in the crowd, with people coming to me for advice. But those few days were the first since Lu was a babe that I was truly frightened and worried I was doing it all wrong.
Luckily, we all slowly recovered and Daddy came home. I got to sleep and snuggle with you more than I have since maternity leave ended months ago. And ever since, you’ve been more likely to snuggle up for a nap or just some cuddle time…which, you know, I’m okay with.
I love you, Tater. Please don’t grow up too fast. If you don’t want to walk for a few months, I’m totally cool with that.
Love,
Mama
My Life Today: Edited
On Friday I left a lunch meeting and checked my phone for messages to see the dreaded four missed calls from Tate’s daycare. Turns out he had some sort of stomach bug and had been throwing up and feverish. Trent is out of town on business, so I went to go get the little man, assuming he would have a quick recovery.
It’s been four days and little man is still on a liquid diet with a fever, I have had a touch of this bug as well, and Lu spent yesterday morning moaning and running back and forth to the bathroom. We are a mess. This was snapped yesterday morning, as Lu tried to comfort her sad little brother. My poor, sad, sick babies…
7 & 8 Months
Dear Tate,
This weekend you turned eight months old, and way back in July, you turned seven months old. Are you amazed by my mathematical prowess, son? You should be. Random sidenote: You should ask your dad sometime about that time when he saw my LSAT pre-test scores in the math section and then made fun of me for the next ten years. (In my defense, I wasn’t that dumb, I was on a full college scholarship at the time…although that scholarship was in journalism…) Well, I didn’t write you in July as I was on my Digital Sabbatical, but I promise, it was a good month. You have changed exponentially in the past weeks, I’m not even sure where to start.
In July you ended up spending most of your days either inside or at the pool, as your little body certainly could not handle temperatures that were over 105 degrees daily. You went from tolerating the water to totally loving it, splashing like a maniac whenever you were anywhere near a pool or a sink or a bathtub. We had to stop giving you baths in the kitchen sink, as your splashing was getting so out of control you were close to shorting out some appliances (toaster, baby food maker, microwave), and now we have to take baths in the big tub, you, me and Lulu. Let me tell you, kiddo, you wholeheartedly approve of this development. You would splash in that bath all day. You shriek and laugh and throw your body in to the water with such force, it’s hard for me to hold on.
I guess that’s another thing that has changed in the past months, your strength. You have turned into a bit of a rock, little man. You’re not rolley poley like your sister was as a baby, but you’re not a little guy either. You’re just totally solid. Yesterday we were at the lake with your grandparents and Grandma leaned over to pick you up and exclaimed, “Wow, you are a lot heavier than you look!” You’re strong, too. You’ve gone from rolling all over the place, to rocking on your knees, to full out crawling all over the place. If someone holds your hands above your head, you immediately stand up and try to walk, which, let’s be honest, I’m not so fond of. Can’t you just stay a baby for a bit longer, before you’re running around, stealing your sister’s Polly Pockets and trying to eat them?
Your personality is changing a bit too, although I’m not sure how much is actual “change” and how much is you just being able to express yourself a bit better these days. You’ve always been a talker, but now you are officially a yeller. You screech and scream and groan and moan and laugh and giggle and sigh…I will even put it on record that I think that you maybe (possibly) said “mama” the other day. Now when you want something you crawl right up and tug on pants legs or slap me in the foot. When I ask if you want “up please” you will stretch your arms up to me and smile. You’re also a total cuddler, snuggling your face into the crook of my neck and wrapping your arms around me when I hold you. Your sister used to do that too, and I forgot how amazing it feels.
After a blissful summer at home with our nanny, you are officially back at daycare, although just to trip you up, you’ll be moving to a different facility in two weeks. We like to keep you on your toes, little man. And while I miss you being at home, I know that you’ll do fine in daycare, just as you always have. It helps that you are so charming and not to much of a trouble maker (yet), all the ladies who work there think you’re quite the dashing little dude. When I brought you in on the first day, none of them could believe how different you were in just a few short months since they’d seen you last. “He has hair!” they exclaimed. “His eyes are so pretty! He’s crawling!” One of the older ladies smiled at me and said, “He’s still our little Tater Tot, though. Such a sweetheart.”
Yup, ditto to that.
Love you, little man,
Mama
