eighteen and counting

Dear Bella,

I love watching you learn. I know it doesn't always seem like it, like when you shovel the ashes out of the fireplace onto the hearth and I start screaming because our vacuum broke two days before and crud is piling up everywhere. But really, I love to see you explore this world of yours, I promise.

We haven't been out and about this fall like we were last fall. I'm not sure why, exactly. I mean, we did go apple picking, which was a blast, but we don't go on our daily walks anymore. I think it's because I actually have to dress you instead of just throwing you in the wrap, and then I spend most of my walk chasing after you as you run into the street. You hear so many noes these days, and it's tiring for us both. No playing in the toilet, no taking trash out of the can, no biting mama, no turning off the radio while I'm listening. They're everywhere and I can't help it. Learning is learning boundaries.

But what can I say, I could watch you for hours. I love to watch you problem solve when something is out of your reach. You're just like me, refusing to ask for help until you're in over your head, and by then you're too mad to accept alternatives.

I love the way you sit in a corner to inspect a book and flip through it at different speeds. The way you've learned when is the best time to deliver a kiss. The way you seem to know exactly which things on the floor are trash, but you run them by me anyhow just so you can hear me say, Put that in the trash, please. The way you've decided that ducking your face down and peeking out from under your eyelashes is the same as hiding. The way you snub food as soon as I offer it (because you can), and then make a giant circle back since you actually are hungry. The way you'll put your face into the floor or table to pick up food when eating with your hands becomes too mundane.

You've hit a few personal milestones this month. You drink all by yourself from a cup now, and as long as I catch you before the water gets too exciting, you won't spill it. Sometimes I let you spill it because, who cares? It's water. You say hi and wave to everyone you see, including Bunny, stuffies, and characters in books. You officially go to bed without nursing. We just lie on the same pillow and sing songs until you're sleepy enough to drift off on your own. And you often even spend most of the night in your crib, which I have to admit is delightful. It makes me happy again to cuddle you all morning long when you crawl over for a nursing.

You're also singing a lot these days, signing more and more, and I think your strings of gibberish might turn into words soon. I can't wait. Life with you is anything but dull, and you show me every day just how much excitement this world has to offer. I'm sure you haven't a clue, but you make my life exciting. Just keep going at life the way you do, baby, that's all a mom can ask for.

Love,
mama