You are so old. You are one geezer of a baby. I have no idea how you’ve aged so quickly. One part of me is still sitting on my bum, making a playlist of music to listen to while I’m in labor — oh, ill-fated unused playlist.
Trucker, you can do so many things now. This month you took your very first steps. Mama and Mommy saw them. And even though we know that you have no idea that you took the steps because you weren’t paying attention, the steps count. They are already inked in to your baby book. I refuse to pick you up from daycare to be told that they saw your first steps. So ha! Thank you for taking them at home. Of course you are slowly realizing that you can walk. Today you were sitting on the floor, then slowly standing. Then you stood stood stood and slowly sat. You did it several times.
You’ve finally gotten yourself off of your Mommy-is-the-only-girl-for-me kick and have been giving your Mama some much-earned love. Whew. I was beginning to feel like quite the baby hog. Which doesn’t bode well for someone who claims to be writing a book for non-bio moms. Now you like to play peek-a-boo with Mama over my shoulder. You both bob back and forth using my head as a hiding place and you both end up in stitches.
Only Mama, it seems can make you go to sleep. I swear I didn’t do this on purpose. Perhaps you know I’m a sucker. We had one bad bad night during which I decided to try to put you back to sleep. You fell back to sleep three times, then awakened every time more angry than you were before. I basically got twenty minutes of sleep that day between 3 am and the next night when I went to bed. When I fed you that morning, I learned that I was not the only one to blame for your lack of sleep. You had a white sliver of tooth peeking through the pink of your gum. Your first tooth.
Have I ever mentioned your hair? It is really out of control now. In an effort to prove that I do, in fact, comb it, I took a picture right after a combing and five minutes later. During the five minutes, I did not touch your hair. At the end of the five minutes, you look like Marge Simpson without the blue. On Tuesday, you and Cakie will go to Cakie’s hairdresser and get it cut off. I know after that you will look like a boy. Your hair has always made you look more boy than baby to me, but I am fully-aware that after the professional haircut, you will be un-babied — fully boyed. Sigh.
Next week you will be eleven months old. Time to start planning your birthday party. Sigh. Again, sigh.
Apparently I have not yet freed the Marge Simpson shot from my huge camera card. But I do want to leave those of you who still bother to read my blog after so much dead air with a little treat. A full-on shot of my ten month old Trucker:
And that’s my Cakie in the background.
Love you my big boy,