You have become a little adventurer this month! You still love to crawl into the arms of someone you love, but you have a lot of fun exploring your world as well.
Your Grandmama bought you the hat and stocking in these photos. I love them both.
This month has been increasingly more fun, joyful, and exciting. I often spend time looking back and photos and videos of when you were younger. You have changed so much that it makes five months ago feel like years ago. How have you come from a little squishy, swaddled lump into a thinking, communicating, mobile, strong little boy. It is such a marvel to me to watch you grow.
A few things particularly stand out this past month...
Since there's a lot of musical interest in my family, I have always planned to teach my kids music in some form, and hoped that a few of them would show interest. You have exceeded this, even shocking me how you find music and rhythm in so many things.
Tupperware or metal tins you turn into drums by slapping them with the flats of your hands. I was painting my toenails, and you took off with my nail file and nail buffer, scraping them against each other. It actually made a pleasant percussive-type scrape/scratch sound. You love to plunk on real or toy pianos. You like the slamming/slapping sound made by shutting a door or cabinet. A sudden loud noise, like the garage door opening, or the vacuum turning on, makes you smile and kick your legs excitedly. Music with a good beat makes you rock your body and swing your hips and bounce around. There's not a lot of dancing that goes on around here, so it amazes me that you instinctively want to dance to a rhythmic beat. Tonight you discovered the fire tools by the fireplace. You pushed around, like a clock's pendulum, so they clanged against each other with a bold ringing sound.
We visited your cousins in Houston, and they brought out a classical guitar the kids are allowed to play with. I lost track of how long you spent banging on the strings, listening to the sound of the strings vibrating through the body of the guitar. You came back to the guitar over and over during the day, spending longer with it than you usually will with toys.
Of course, your favorite toys are anything that isn't a toy. Favorites include plastic water bottles, which make a nice crinkly sound when squeezed, and plastic bags. I know that plastic is a terrible toy for babies, so when you somehow locate some (usually from the trash), I am always nearby to watch you play with it and take it away once you are finished, or start trying to put it in your mouth. It's actually pretty rare that you put plastic in your mouth; you have too much fun swinging it around listening to the loud crunching sound it makes. There's a small trashcan in our bedroom, and I have an empty plastic water bottle in it that I never throw away in the larger trash. When I empty the trashcan, I put the bottle back it in. Tipping over that trashcan (Clang! the metal goes on the tile floor) and grabbing the water bottle from it (crack! crunch! the bottle goes), is a daily source of joy for you.
You are pulling up to standing every time I turn around. In your crib, on my pant legs, on cup boards, on trash cans, on anything you can reach. You want to be standing! Tonight you pulled up on the slick face of the dishwasher and stretched your little fingers as far as they could reach, trying to touch the LED lights flashing as it cycled. I got nervous you would lose your balance and fall backward, but you plunked down on your bottom with a frustrated cry.
Just this past week you threw your first sort of "fit" when you didn't get something you wanted.
I was loading the dishwasher, and had finished up. I walked away to complete another task, and saw you making a speedy beeline for the open dishwasher, excited to play with some spoons and various dirty dishes. Wanting to be done with the kitchen, I closed up the dishwasher. You stopped in your tracks, sat down, and started wailing like you had bonked your head. I rushed over to you, thinking you had somehow hurt yourself, since your cry was so pitiful and strong. But no, you were mad I had closed the dishwasher before you got to play with it. The same afternoon, the same thing happened again with the dishwasher, and also with the pantry (which your Grandmama calls your favorite room in the house). By the third time, I was laughing. Nine months old, and crying when you didn't get the toy you wanted. It's too cute at this stage for anything but a giggle. Although I do usually come over to you and gently explain to you why you can't have "x" right now.
You are a huge fan of opening and closing doors. Real doors, cupboard doors, and toy doors on a wooden toy you have. Anything with a hinge-type movement is extremely interesting to you.
You're eating more and more solid food, but my milk is still at least 80% of your diet. You still love nursing, and so do I. Tonight I gave you beans for the first time. You made a terrible face and spit it out! I'm sure you will like them eventually.
You're a big fan of pumpkin, applesauce, oatmeal with raisins, and soups.
At least once a day, your Daddy or I end up rubbing your back and shoulders like a mini-massage. We've always done it, because soothing touch is important to both of us. But this past month was the first time I noticed you enjoying it. You will often hold still, stop what your doing, and relax while we massage you, sometimes as long as ten minutes. Two nights in a row, you finished nursing but weren't asleep yet. Instead you were squirmy and fussy because you were tired, but couldn't fall asleep. I started massaging you, and you stopped your squirming and fussing, laying quietly in my arms. After five or ten minutes, you were asleep!
Every day when he comes home from work, your Daddy plays with you for at least an hour, often much more. He plays peek-a-boo, and hide-around-the-corner, and chase-you. He calls you "pokey bear," and loves to cuddle with you. He joyfully entertains and plays with you and holds you and puts you down for naps and cares for you and changes your diaper. Okay, he's never happy about the diaper. But he gets the job done! He's been like this ever since you were born - so adoring you and loving to spend time with you at whatever stage you are at. The older you get, the more you both enjoy being together. It absolutely melts my heart to hear the two of you playing in the other room, peals of laughter and joy echoing through the house. You are so lucky to have this guy as your Dad!
You continue to advance verbally. We sometimes wonder if you are saying certain words. It's hard to tell if you "mean" to shape sounds a certain way, or if it's just an accident that it sounds like you are saying "Tita" or "All done" or "Izzy." There are many times when it really sounds like you are talking to us. That you know what you are trying to communicate, even if we can't understand you. Especially the last few times we've talked to your Daddy on the phone, you really "talk" to him! It sounds like you are telling him something specific. Amazing.
One of the things I've started doing when we pray for you at bedtime, is pray certain positive characteristics for you. Specifically, if there are situations going on with our family or relatives or friends, that are on my mind, I will pray over you the positive character traits that would be important given the situation the others are going through.
Whether it's sexual purity, or honesty, or passion for the cause of Jesus, or generosity, or faithfulness, or protection from deception... I pray over you to develop the positive characteristics, and be protected from the harm.
I can't always save you from being hurt by people, just like I can't always save you from falling down and bonking your head after you pulled up on something and lost your balance. I can do my best to guard you, help you, teach you, but my greatest weapon and my greatest hope as a parent is prayer. I need to do it more. I need to soak in it more. It's part of how God is using being your Momma to change me to His likeness and plan for me. What a privilege to grow up together, each in our own season of life.
