Bella Luna: November 2010

Monday, November 29, 2010

snow!

Come join me over at my photography blog - there's snow everywhere!

Sunday, November 28, 2010

holidays begin

For my mom, here is Bella in the dress she made last year. She even has room to grow.

I cannot believe we have come again to the holidays. When we moved into this house a year ago I thought Bella seemed so big and grown up. That grown up Bella looks so little in comparison to today.

We dressed up tonight so that I could attend a party. It has been a long time since we have taken Bella out past her bedtime because of her sleep issues. Tonight she blew me away. She had fun, she enjoyed herself, she goofed off with my friends, she didn't get herself in trouble or throw a tantrum. As we left she waited at the car door patiently, and once in the car she had a box of stickers under one arm and politely asked for the other one in plain English. It's so easy to grant her wishes when they are so calmly stated. We talked about the party on the way home, and I kept pinching myself because it has been so long since I've enjoyed going out with Bella. It was wonderful to have a glimpse of rational grown up Bella. There's so much to look forward to, and it somehow makes it easier to enjoy what we have now.

Friday, November 26, 2010

long lia letter

*warning: mildly heavy photo post ahead. if i could keep up with weekly editing and posting i'd wouldn't need to put an entire month of photos in one post. alas...*

Dear Lillia,

Pretty crazy. You're already five months old. I'm sure it took Bella twice as long to get to five months, or time just moves twice as fast now. That doesn't seem to bug you one bit. You're sitting here on the potty rummaging through a box of toys squealing up at me with that insane shriek of yours.

I'm trying so hard not to compare the way I am raising you and Bella. I can't imagine her having let me sit her on the floor for an hour and go about my business, but then again she would not have had a household of antics to entertain her. You prefer to fall asleep on your own, you prefer to sit on your own, and you just let me know when you want to be held and cuddled and loved. I've got the hang of you now, and I love you all the more for it.

I don't get to sit and stare at you for hours on end, watch your every thought and move. It makes the quiet moments I have with you all that more special. You don't consider things. If something is in front of you, you stare it down til it's in your mouth. If an item enters your radar, you zero in on it and watch your hands as you guide them in slow motion towards your unsuspecting prey.

Just today you dropped a ring on the way to your mouth and you knew exactly where to find it on the floor. I had no idea you had that awareness yet. You learned to talk this month, too. Oh my how I love to hear your soft chatting voice. Mostly it's when you're alone and considering your toys that it comes out.

You're turning into a thumb sucker, or shoulder sucker. And drooler. You go through at least three bibs a day. And you attack people with your giant hands, grabbing unsuspecting noses. When I go in for a cuddle, out goes that arm to attack my face. Must. Have. Everything.

I can't remember if Bella's belly was so deliciously chubby, but I'm loving yours like I've never had such a wonderful thing. Soft squishy chub. Oh my, you are just too cute. You giggle a bit more now, always when I am nomming on your cheeks or lifting you into the air. You giggle at Bella just for existing and -this is going to get you in trouble some day- you laugh when she's throwing a tantrum. You grab Bella's hair when she gets too close and rip books right out of her hands. You are quite the perfect little sister.

You're a perfect little baby all around.

Love, mama

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Big (or little)

Dear Bella,

It's funny now that you're little kid. You walk, you talk, you make decisions, share your insight, you tell me about your day, you tell me how you're feeling, you reassure me things are going to be okay on a bad day, and you share your toys with Lia. You're my friend. You seem so big, so grown up, so impossibly far from the baby that I knew last year to the point that you do not even seem like the same person anymore.

And yet.

And yet, there are those times when I listen to what you're saying, see what you are doing, or just step back and really look at you. You're tiny. Two is infinitesimally small. At the playground two is still the baby. Two still doesn't understand so many simple concepts I take for granted. Two is certainly not reasonable. Two has come so far and has so so far to go. Two is small enough that you need me more than I realize but so big that I forget how small you are. (But not this small.)

I've said this before, but I'm in heaven watching you play. Usually when I'm off in the next room Lia suddenly becomes your audience, despite that you ignored her all morning. In your biggest voice you say, Watch this, Lia! as you pull up your own pants or send your dollies soaring through the air.

You do everything by yourself now, proudly. Proudly enough that when you ask for help I am happy to offer because I know in that moment that you just need to be little again. You have come so so far in taking a breath to relax while you wait for a rescue in any situation that would previously have had you in a puddle on the floor.

You even sit on the potty allbyoself (which was more exciting before you fell in, and now you're taking a break). You like reading me books now, and Lia, too. I could listen to you count the Hungry Caterpillar's stahburies all night long. And the best part? When we get to the chocolate cake, you hand me a piece. Suddenly you are immersed in this fantastic imaginary world where you hold very important conversations and make up new scenarios - not just replay today's events. That is amazing.

You shout I'm nin! When you hop into something. I'm not even sure why I love that so much, but I do. And this month we have reached a childhood milestone.

You have started sneaking. You peek when your eyes are supposed to be closed and you hide when you know you're in trouble. Oh yes, yesterday I found you tearing apart some lipstick. It's a rite of passage, no?