Happy Birthday to You: 15 Months Old

Dear Anabella,

This week you turned 15 months old.



People say that April showers bring May flowers and I, for one, hope that they are effing right.

We got rained on an awful lot this month, if by rain we mean violent stomach flu - times two (you and Daddy) - a nighttime trip to the emergency children's clinic and a diagnosis of pink eye, a nasty cough and cold, and two new molars on the bottom that turned you into a child that we hadn't met before and aren't too sure that we want meet ever again.

This string of bad health meant that you could only go to daycare for 10 days out of the entire month of April. 10 days. Do you know what that means? That means $160 dollars a day. We probably could have stayed in a pretty decent hotel in The Bahamas for that amount. You now officially go to the most expensive daycare in the entire universe. Lucky you.

The thing about the daycare is though? Despite the fact that you like to rub noses with the boys and bring home cooties, they are actually teaching you an awful lot over there. So let's talk about the fun stuff for a moment. Dude? You can TALK! You've learned so many new words this month and it is so fun to discover your ever expanding vocabulary at the end of the day.

The difference of this month over last is that not only do you have all these adorable little words, but suddenly you are really making the connection to actual things. For instance you will see your little sun hat and say, "Hat!" while pointing to your head. Or you will point at your bookshelf, covered in the most amazing collection of teeny tiny footwear and say, "Shoes!" You are totally into accessorizing. We are so screwed.

You've also learned to string a couple of words together, like after your bath when we're putting away the little floaty toys you'll say, "Bye-bye fish," and "Bye-bye duck." Except instead of fish you kind of say, "Pipsh," but close enough and way cuter to boot.

While your vocab continues to grow day by day, I have to say you're a little delayed in the mobility category, much to the dismay of your teachers who have been putting a lot of time and energy into getting you to stand up and walk already! I know that they are a little concerned because, really? By 15 months most babies are not just walking, but running and climbing stairs and doing lunges and solving the quadratic equation.

You are having none of it. You don't stand unless someone puts you there and you have no choice. You are more than happy to zip around with your turbo crawl, where you are close to the ground and therefore very unlikely to fall down and hurt yourself. You can't quite figure out why you should get up and walk when clearly, if you just point at something you can't reach and yell, somebody will bring it to you. Or, if you need to get somewhere in a hurry, you can just put your chubby little arms in the air and cock your head just so and somebody will most certainly pick you up and bring you there. D'uh. Walk? Whatevs.


Your favourite things this month include books, especially the Baby Animals one that you would like me to read 100 times in a row every single day even though it's really got no words and I kind of can't stand it at all. Goldfish crackers ("caacoos") are a big hit. You continue to love food (though you did go about two weeks without eating because of the flu, which caused me to have a stroke every single day until you were back to normal). Hanging you upside down never fails to score us some awesome giggles. Sitting and gabbing quietly to yourself when you think that nobody is listening. And In The Night Garden, which you now watch every weeknight at 7:30 p.m. before bed. Every time you see Upsy Daisy, you blow her a kiss - "Mmmmwaaa" - and Mommy's heart explodes.

Sometimes when you are sitting, playing quietly or reading a book by yourself, I look over at just the right minute, you'll catch my eye and give me a knowing smile and in that second I see that my baby is leaving and this incredible, wise, funny little girl is taking her place.



I love you, Baby.

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 14 Months Old

Dear Anabella,


This week you turned 14 months old. This has been a tough month, but believe it or not it has nothing to do the hectic pace of our life as a family with two working parents and toddler. March came in like a lion because your little Rah Rah, aka The Momes, aka Momo, aka Doy, aka Moet the family pug suffered a terrible injury in his back. As a result we've all been thrown out of balance, because though we are only three people, our family is really a party of four.

You have been such a huge part of these past 14 months (23 if you count the time you spent wreaking havock inside my midsection) and the impact that your presence has made in our lives is evident right here, in that I rarely have the inspiration, or time, to write about anything else. If there is one thing that we know about Moet, it's that he does not take well to the thought of becoming just another family pet. You have been my baby for just over a year now, but he has been my fur-baby for seven years. It seems this month he decided that he'd take back a little of the attention he's been missing out on -- by throwing out his back and demanding that we look down and take notice.

If there's is one thing that I never want to happen in our family, it's for one of us, any one of us, to hurt. This month, watching Momo in so much pain has been extremely difficult for me, for Daddy and unfortunately, as a result, for you too. Because although you are still too little to understand exactly what is wrong, you are more than capable of recognizing that something is. You can read our body language, pick up on our anxieties and absorb our sadness.

**Author's note: Monday April 6: This post has been interrupted by the stomach flu**

Touche my little Bella. It seems you are far wiser than I give you credit for. Just as I was about to dedicate my attentions - and one of your monthly updates - to the dog, you caught wind and decided to one up the little fur ball by catching the stomach flu and turning all eyes back to you. You are a clearly a master manipulator, young one. I will not make such a foolish mistake again.

You've just spent the weekend in the hazy, uncomfortable state of feverish flu. This morning you seem a bit better, except I'm still cleaning up more poop than I really care to mention and yes, you have successfully averted our attentions from your sick fur-brother.

I think in your sickness; however, your dad and I have had a chance to see how much you have developed this past month.

In your sleepy silence we realized how many words you have now, and we've longed each day to hear you say them. To be met by silence and quiet whimpers in the morning was jarring, since we've become so used to your incessant chattering and singing.

To see you lying listlessly in your daddy's arms all weekend, when normally you fight such snuggles in favour of being on the floor by yourself, free to move and explore, we realized how busy you've become. How curious and active.

To try to feed you only to be met by, "No, no, no, no..." has been so worrisome because usually you attack your meals with such zest and joy, happily feeding yourself and the dog (that's the last time I mention him, I swear, do not revolt!) and chit chatting all the while.

Otherwise, though, you've handled your sickness like a trouper. Though clearly unwell and unhappy, you continued to sleep through the night, take your medicine and not get yourself too worked up with tears and turmoil. I think today you are on the mend and I can't wait for you to feel better and to hear your happy little voice around the house again.

My favourite new word this month is "caaacooor." It means cracker, and I'll tell you what it cracks - me up! But I think that your most endearing and heartwarming Bellaism has got to be your word for Moet, "Rah Rah" (your adorable version of a barking sound) because it's always filled with love. And I could swear that lately, in Rah Rah's time of need, your little voice has even been filled with concern. You are truly a sweet soul, little one.



I love you,

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 13 Months Old

Dear Anabella,

Last weekend you turned 13 months old. I wish I could be more timely with this post, but alas, time is precious, and often unavailable these days. Life has been tossed into turmoil with my return to work and every minute is busy with commuting, working, daycare, chores, feeding (so much feeding), errands and trying, whenever possible, to find a quiet moment to lie on the floor with you and simply drink in your babyness.

It is all going by so fast and this past month has been incredibly full of new developments, many of which are happening while you are away from me, with your new teachers and new friends at daycare. Hence, nobody can put into words the little person you are becoming better than your daycare family, who provide Daddy and I with amazing little snap-shots of your day-to-day life with "report cards" that we receive at the end of each day. Here then, are some comments from your teachers, too priceless not to share. And of course, my own take on what their "highlights of the day" and "teachers comments" really mean.

Feb. 26.
Teachers Comments: "She played with all her friends and liked when Duncan came to tickle her. She also laughed like crazy when Carter entertained her with funny faces."
My Take: Bella likes boys. The boys like Bella.

Feb. 25.
Teachers Comments: "She was not a fan of painting with a toothbrush. She hates to get involved in 'messy' art projects.
My Take: Bella has inherited your OCD.

Feb. 23.
Teachers Comments: "Bella is learning to hold the spoon to feed herself. We need to be doing this here and at home!"
My Take: Let her feed herself or you will be spoon feeding her when she is 15 years old. Babies are messy, let it go.

And some gems from her "monthly" social emotional, language, cognitive and motor report (ha!):

Social Emotional: Bella did a great transition from formula to milk. We would like to see Bella holding her own sippy cup. (Read: Bella is thirsty but lazy.)
Language: Bella enjoys clapping when we sing to her. This month we would like to see Bella repeating simple words and sounds. (Read: Your child loves to be entertained but isn't really that into things like, well, talking.)
Cognitive: Bella loves to knock over block towers. We are working on learning to stack two or more at a time. (Read: Bella knocks over everyone's towers and makes the other babies cry.)
Motor: We would like to see her work on pulling herself to standing using furniture. (Read: Again, quite lazy, this child.)

Truth is though, Bella, all joking aside, you have learned an amazing amount this month and we all have daycare to thank for it. Your teachers are so good with you and it's obvious that you love them, and all the other babies, very much. My heart swells with pride when I drop you off and see how happy and well adjusted you are. You certainly have come out of your shell, and I'm constantly amazed by what a complex little person you are becoming.

A few other noteworthy developments this month:

Teeth! You have two more, both on the top, and it has earned you your newest nickname: Fang.
Knee walking! You love to wander around on your knees, pushing your little walker toy. So cute.
Tantrums! That's right. You throw them. Especially if a snowsuit is involved.
The Cranky Blankie! You are fully addicted to your "security" blanket all of a sudden and though I know at daycare they want to limit your use of it, at home we just let you have it. I'm pretty sure that you will not be dragging it around when you are in your twenties. Right? You won't will you?

Finally, for your viewing pleasure, here's just a quick look at the feisty little destructor-baby you have become this month. Okay, maybe not quite, but you've definitely learned to let loose. On your blocks.



I love you.

Mommy.

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

Four words.

Penelope Cruz's necklace. Damn.


And the dress. And the speech. And the... well... everything. Love.

Happy Oscar night.

I Will Survive

Nobody said it would be easy, and everybody was right.

As of yesterday, my family has survived my first three full weeks back at work. I use the term "survived" loosely here, mind you. Here is just a quick smattering of the challenges we lived through these past three weeks.

1. Worst, most revolting stomach flu ever. This evil virus took me out on my SECOND day at the office and caused me to miss one and half days of work during my first week. Embarrassing yes, but luckily (?) I was too busy dying to care very much. Just as I pulled myself up out of bed and dragged myself back to the office, Crown went down. Typical. Somehow, amazingly, incredibly, unbelievably, Bella managed NOT to catch it. Thank you Karma, what did I do to deserve you?

2. Fatigue the likes of which I have not known since the earliest days after giving birth. These last three weeks have passed me by in a hazy fog of exhaustion. I suspect I will feel like this for the rest of my life. Super.

3. Ground Hog Day, the movie. I get it now. I've been up by 7 a.m. at the latest every day during the week and back in bed by 10 p.m. latest. Whatever happens in between those two times of day is a blur. I think that I wake up, shower, dress myself, dress and feed the baby, somehow get her to daycare, and then suddenly I'm home in the evening just in time to feed her again and then undress her and put her back to bed. Sometimes I get confused and I'm like, "Wait a second, are you getting up or going down? Didn't I just do this?"

4. Thank God for my office, it's the only place I get to sit down. No seriously. I never sit down at home. Unless I'm going to bed and that doesn't count. That's lying down. Most evenings I literally do not stop and enjoy a still moment for myself until at least an hour after Bella goes to bed. I move straight from my commute to prepping and feeding her dinner, into bath time, into cleaning up after her dinner, into bottle and bed routine, into tidying up after her, into prepping my stuff and hers for the next day, into laundry, into finally eating my own dinner, into cleaning up after my own dinner, into letting the dog out, into - at last - sitting for moment. Only to realize that it's nearly 10 p.m. and if I don't get into bed I'll never be able to wake up tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.

5. Teething and sniffles and coughs, oh my! That's right, she avoided the stomach flu that ravaged her father and I, but that doesn't mean she got off easy. Poor kid managed to pick up another cold, this one slightly less snotty than the last but with a savage cough that caused her to vomit on me a few times, including one early morning edition that necessitated last-minute outfit changes for both of us. She's also managed to cut two teeth and is working on at least three more, which we all know makes for a tired, itchy, fiery-cheeked baby with some major 'tude.

The saving grace of all this? Bella loves her daycare and comes home tired but happy. She's already learning so much from her teachers and the other babies. She's signing a lot and becoming a little more vocal and lot more feisty. It's like a litter of puppies in that infant room -- you learn to fight for your food and attention or you get left behind by the pack.

As for her father and I? Well. We're learning to fight for our food, too. It's just the way it's got to be for now. I took Family Day off (my company doesn't allow us the holiday, but our daycare was closed) and it's proved to me how much easier life would be for us if one of us had a four-day work week. We really need that one extra day to get errands and chores out of the way. Just one day a week would mean the difference between chaos and calm for my family. It would open up at least one day during the weekend for relaxing and spend time together. It's something to look into for the future, but for now I'm busy chasin' that paper. A few solid pay cheques are going to be really sweet after six months of basically nada.

The fact is that despite all of the bumps in the road, we have survived. I'm enjoying my work, Bella is enjoying her daycare, even Crown is feeling a little less stressed at the office. Though there are moments when I want to throw in the towel, there are many more where I feel proud of myself and my little family for pulling it off together.