One Year Love Letter
Oh Reedy, you are something else. Our worlds have been rocked. And rolled. And turned inside out.
We are so, so in love with you. We love the person you are turning into.
I love coming in to get you in the mornings. I sometimes go in your room in the wee hours of the morning to just watch you breathe and sleep. You typically let us know you are ready to get up by screaming and crying at the top of your little lungs. Sometimes we hear cooing and nice sounds, but it is usually cries we hear first. When I go in to get you, you almost immediately smile through your binky and throw your arms in the air to be picked up. And so the days begin....
You are a little mack truck. You've been walking for two months now. You lumber over objects in your way, you insist on walking on your own, you face plant on the sidewalk 50 times per day and get up without notice. You simply never stop.
You always have forehead bruises and cheek scrapes. We should start a stitches pool to bet on how many stitches you will need before your fifth birthday.
Dinners out have become a rarity because as our friend says, nobody wants to look at and deal with your kid walking all over a restaurant. The only high chair that seems to work for you is the one at home (because we can cinch it to within an inch of your life). You don't know your own strength. With your contemporaries, you have been known to lean in for a hug, and knock your friend right over. You "sit" on your friends. What makes me really uncomfortable is when you bop them on the head like a field mouse's. I am trying to figure out how to respond to you when those situations arise. I know you don't mean to hurt, but sometimes you do. Actually, you bop me on the head like a field mouse about a million times per day. I hope when you grow up you no longer hit people.
Your most prized possession is your fleet of binkies. You. Love. Your. Binky. LOVE. You insist on having two, at all times. One in your mouth, one in your hand. You transfer the one not in your mouth from hand to hand. You trade out the Mouth One for the Hand One, incessantly. You don't care about blankets, soft bears, or silky linings to things. You only want and need your binky. It is hilarious. And makes me very afraid for the day we need to wean you from your collection. You are going to make the baby monkeys at the zoo very very happy someday.
We've done a lot in these last 12 months.
You've been on 13 flights.
You've had your diaper changed in seven states. (four states in your first four days, in fact)
You've grown three teeth.
You've had two ear infections and one case of roseola.
You've put holes in the knees of three pair of jeans, and scuffed beyond recognition, one pair of shoes.
You've been almost fully imersed in Puget Sound once (just this morning).
You've (only) played naked outside twice. I'll blame our northern latitude on that one.
You love to swim in heated pools.
You've eaten one potato bug.
You've camped, you've snowmobiled, and you've hunkered down in a rustic cabin at a snowy 4,700 feet elevation. (not that high, but makes for coooold nights)
You are working on your summer feet, and can already walk on broken wood chips without a problem.
You know what you want.
You want more blueberries, and less boysenberries.
You still say, "hold the avocado."
You hate to have your face and hands wiped.
You want control of the faucet whenever it is within your reach.
You abhor your changing table.
You love keys, balls, remotes, iphones, and objects with wheels.
You love open mouth kisses. You are learning that you'll get more love with sugar than vinegar when it comes to Barley. You dance--especially to Kelly Clarkston. You love crowds, always assuming people are there just for you. You're kind of a party animal that way. You have no patience. If you're thirsty and a bottle comes into your line of vision, you will scream until it finds a way into your mouth. And BTW, you have not figured out how to hold your bottle. Yet. It is working just fine, so far, for us to hold it for you. You take monster long naps these days--up to four hours--because you are so dang active every day. You also go down to sleep in the night easily. Probably thinking, each night,
thank GOD these people will give me some rest now!!!!.
You are the worlds lightest sleeper. My iphone alarm, on vibrate, wakes you up, every single morning. Thankfully, sometimes you fall back to sleep.
You hug (which means stopping for a nano second and resting your head upon somebody. or some thing. you sometimes hug the couch.) You hugged a stranger in the sand box the other day. You pull at our pant legs when we are cooking. I love this. Maybe you're just trying to hurry me along so that you can eat, but I take it as affection.
You love to be outside.
I take you on little walks up and down the street, and we look at the dirt, we blow dandelions, we collect pinecones. You wave to each passerby, canine or otherwise.
You play with my carefully collected, beloved, and beautiful rocks. If you grow up to be a rock hound, I'll give way more kudos to the nurture argument than I do currently.
A true northwest kid--I can throw a little hoodie on you and head out for a jaunt, rain or shine. You don't mind.
Thank god.
Your birthday comes a day after mine. As one of the biggest fans of her own personal birthday, I cannot tell you how fun it was for me this year to get to celebrate yours the very next day.
I love it!
For forever more, I get a double whammy birthday. Lovelovelove.
Your family--your bio one, your adoptive one, and of course the one made of our friends--love you. You've captured our hearts.
You are my greatest joy. My funnest Pal. I don't remember ever not knowing you.
I love every day with you. I love planning our future days.
I simply adore, love, and admire you.
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, REEDY!!!!!
