At breakfast, we practiced with a very large spoon, and started saying the word “more” in addition to signing.
Then, we had a nap. When we woke up, there was two aunties and one magic blue horse named Rody.
Lastly, we got our very first haircut, courtesy of Auntie Tiffany (what can’t she do?). Ian was semi-patient for this in the exersaucer (we had to bribe him with apricot fruit leather). Between the water to wet his hair, the hair itself, and the dried apricot, we were all a sticky mess. Mom cleaned up while Ian roamed the courtyard, and she Ziplocked some locks for ritual or posterity, whichever comes first.
Ian’s a walking, and Bodhi’s a talking. Little walking and talking storms these two are. Bodhi repeats pretty much whatever you say, including words like “gawky”.
Ian does not have so many words. He is a man of action. Now that he can climb onto the couch, he likes to walk across said couch, coffee table, whathaveyou. We’ve put the kibosh on this stunt and he is not happy about it. Lots of screaming and head banging. He’s also trying to climb his highchair and scale the window sills.
I think I’ve lost two pounds dismounting him from various objects. The good news is he sleeps well.
It’s the little things these days. Before Ian, going to get my oil changed would be no biggie. Take the laptop, do some work while I wait. Or walk to the movies.
When you have a baby, it becomes much more complicated.
Should we go before his nap and hope he doesn’t get cranky? After his nap and hope they’re not too busy?
We decided to go after, drop the car off, and walk to Bodhi’s house for some playtime, then mama Ash would drive us back to pick up our Little Red Prius (I guess you should have known by the way I parked my car sideways that it wouldn’t last…).
It was a perfect day for a walk, and when we got there, both Bodhi and Ash were ready for naps, so Ian and I settled in for quiet playtime and some Thirty Something viewing on Netflix (HELLO nostalgia). Ian’s favorites were the blue truck and the green basket. I think he wanted to crawl into the green basket but couldn’t quite figure out how.
I’m so confused. I have no idea what Ian’s “first” word was/is. Here are the words we KNOW he’s said/says:
Mama
Dada
Boom (with his hand in a fist, ready to bump)
Here are the words we think he’s said/says:
Book
Ball
Milk
No
I have no idea what order any of these came in.
In other news, Ian has quite the fat lip. He was playing with a toy shopping cart and smacked his mouth and cut his lip with his teeth. Blood. Tears. Cold wash cloths. Then, he was right back to the shopping cart. I thought, “What are the chances?” Smack. Blood. Tears. Cold wash cloth.
Passed out in the car seat after the shopping cart incident.
He’s a snotty green mess again and is soaking his clothes with drool, but is happy as a clam and a complete pleasure to be around (except for the whole crying every two hours at night for just long enough to wake me up thing, then he goes right back to sleep while I stay awake, eating and listening to food podcasts). He’s got the milk sign down and is not afraid to use it, is practicing walking with gusto, and eating more than ever: Big fruit smoothie for breakfast (strawberries, blackberries, cherries, banana, coconut, and raw tahini butter), one small roasted yam with cinnamon and coconut oil for lunch, and half an avocado and cucumber slices for dinner, plus milk galore.
I cried all through Life As We Know It not because it was good, but because there’s a baby involved and it feels like Ian’s going to go to Kindergarten tomorrow at this rate. Holy hormones.
Here’s our little man in his jelly toast t-shirt from Auntie Tiff and Auntie Katie. I know, right? Don’t even get me started on his lobster socks…
Now that I'm mature, I like to wear a neck pillow when I travel for extra comfort. Thanks, Auntie Denise!
I’ve heard from friends that their babies (now “toddlers”?) turned one and almost immediately seemed to make huge shifts.
This has happened here.
He’s different. He’s developing a sense of self. What he wants and doesn’t want. When he wants to do something. He is definitely telling me very specific things that sound like “Bah ga reegin dah” to my ignorant ears and so we play guessing games. We’re trying desperately to implement signing, which is sometimes working. He’s good with the “more” sign when eating, not so much with “milk” when he wants to nurse as he prefers whining and banging his head into my chest.
Speaking of nursing, he’s been on the boob pretty much all day this week. My guess is that being a new walker, stair climber, down dogger makes for wanting lots of close check-in time with mom. Also now that I’m working out of the home one day per week, he definitely needs more mama time the day after. He cried when our housekeeper came and when we went to visit a friend because he thought I was leaving.
Interesting how the new independence makes him want to see if he can still be dependent if he desires it. Makes the transition a little easier for both of us.
