Seventeen, if a bit late...

Dear Bella,

Here we are at 17 months and then some. How does that even happen? Next month will be 18 and then I'll have to start getting used to the word "years". I'm not sure how gracefully I'll handle that. Pardon me if I make you memorize your 12 times tables just so you can translate your mom when people wonder how old 132 months is...

You have become an amazingly loving child. You plop yourself on my lap, give friends spontaneous hugs, try to cuddle anything that looks soft (yarn balls, diapers, stuffies, newborns), and deliver kisses with the most darling smooch, especially at bedtime when you're trying to wake me back up to play just a bit longer.

On the other hand, you're still quite the tornado, and quite a conundrum, but every moment of sweetness and peace makes up for the frustrations ten fold.

You've taken sleep refusal to new levels this month. What kind of baby refuses to nurse down? Naps? Who needs those? You'd rather spend hours doing everything in your power to resist sleep rather than take a 45 minute nap. Oh come on, darling, I need the quiet cuddles in order to handle the rest.

Once again this month you astound me with your word skills. You can repeat most simple words effortlessly. But, once you've said them, forget it. We won't hear them for some time again (even mama, sniff sniff). The ones that stick around are priceless.

When you were teeny you hated car rides. But for some reason those certain times you were content to watch the scenery pass by, you always sang to me with the softest cooing voice. After an entire life of wailing and screaming, to hear your soft voice was the sweetest music ever. That hasn't changed. You say wow and done! and uh-oh... with your husky smoker's voice. You squeak and squeal nonsense sentences to your play things and then edge up next to me and whisper hi softly in my ear the way I do when you come to me for a hug. We try to get as many on video as possible, not knowing which will slip into oblivion. It's all sweet miraculous music.

With all these words comes social awareness and testing the limits of your world. Our days are punctuated by tantrums and crying fits and furious stomping and crocodile tears and strings of nonononono!!!! Suddenly you're wary of strangers, too, and you're practicing shy reactions, clinging to and burying your face in me. And to the people you know comes extra love in the form of hugs and pats and sweet kisses (and the occasional boob squeeze for me, of course). How have you picked up these mannerisms so quickly? It seems like overnight you've gone from a baby into a sweet, caring little girl.

Things get more complicated and confusing with every passing day. But I can see how beautiful your spirit is and I'm looking forward to getting to know you as my independent, loving daughter. Here we go!

love,
mama