Happy Birthday to You: Everley Edition: 11 Months Old

Dear Everley,



You'll be 11 months old for about, oh, three more hours. I'm squeaking this one in just under the wire and as such we're going to let the photos do the talking. I will just say this, we spent a lot of your 11th month in Ipperwash, basking in the sunshine with family and friends. It was a glorious month. The kind of summer that in my dreams we would enjoy every year. It was so special and so precious to me. I hope that you'll remember it just as fondly when you look back at this one day.

We also monkeyed around on the swings.

And took a speed boat ride around Lake Rosseau. 

But mostly we lazed on the beach and took in the view.

Did some digging with Uncle Matt.

And explored the sand (and ate the sand).

And also, there were naps. Such glorious, warm, summertime naps.

 I love you,



Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: Everley Edition: 10 Months Old

Dear Everley,



On July 21 you turned 10 months old. I haven't been keeping up with these monthly posts. Obviously you've got the big bday fast approaching (omg tomorrow!) and I'm almost three months behind and that sucks the big one but here's the truth of it - it's not because we've been too busy, though we have been making the most of our precious summer together. And it's not that I am just lazy, though I've definitely put off writing these in favour of simply lying with you on the living room floor and watching you grow and learn and well, just be your beautiful baby self.

No, the truth of it is this - I just have not been able to face it, this passing of time. Though I love and cherish these monthly letters - and I WILL complete them all because you deserve to have this record of your infancy and of our magical year together - they are such a physical and emotional reminder of the damned ticking clock. TICK, TICK, tick, tick... SHUT UP CLOCK. (ticktickticktick)

I want to be witty and funny and clever with these letters to you so you'll look back one day and be all, "Wow, Mom wasn't always such a washed up emotional disaster after all. She was kind of cool and hilarious..." but Everley Read YOU HAVE STOLEN ALL OF MY FUNNY. Seriously. YOU are funny. You are such a clown and so delightful but I'm pretty, pretty certain you got it all from me. And left me with NO MORE FUNNINESS.

Here you are being hilarious. Also, STANDING UP!

 I sit down to write to you and all I want to do is get weepy and philosophical about how special our bond is (very, very) and how much you've changed my life (beyond what words can describe) and how our family - immediate and extended - are so bloody in love with you (read: obsessed) and while it's all true, every word of it, it's not exactly going to illicit a chuckle in 20 years time is it?

So instead, I haven't been writing. And that's not fair. Now I have to catch up and I promise I'm going to do it. All you need to do in return is promise that in 20 years you'll at least pretend that you think I'm cool and hilarious.

Daddy is also cool and hilarious.

Here's a speed round up of the incredible things you mastered between nine and 10 months:

You gave up your arm-pull-toe-push military drag in favour of a classic hands and knees crawl, which you can do at super turbo speed. You started pulled yourself up to standing and within days were cruising around furniture like it ain't no thang.You started clapping and other cute mimicking behaviours. You got your first professional haircut, survived your first heatwave, enjoyed your first shoulder ride (on daddy) and had your first full day at the beach in Ipperwash complete with swimming. You finally cut that top tooth, which was a pain in both your butt and mine and your little three toothed smile was hilarious and infectious.

Beach, bucket, boat, baby.

I love you,



Mommy