Monthly Update... Update

Dear Lana,

For two years now, I have spent time at the end of each month (and too often the beginning of the following month) writing a post to you about your exploits and adventures. It has been a wonderful way for me to preserve all the amazing moments we’ve shared together and document important milestones like your first introduction to solid foods, first public bout with constipation, first steps, first day of school, and your first obsession. And now it’s over.

I’ve decided, after much consideration, that the 25th month marks a good time to discontinue formal monthly updates. Mostly because if I don’t stop now, I’m sure I’ll find myself up late at night trying to finish a recap of month 182. But at least that month should be easy: “Dear Lana, you rolled your eyes at me a lot this past month. Please cut it out. Love, That Woman You Don’t Like to be Seen With.”

This in no way means that I won’t continue to provide updates on new developments, like your sudden fixation with “Clifford the Big Red Dog” and new bedtime ritual, which requires that a minimum of nine stuffed animals join you in your crib each night. I’ll also continue to report on all the incredibly endearing moments, like hearing your voice over the baby monitor as you awake in the morning and immediately begin singing “Happy Birthday” to one of your many crib-mates. It’s just that I may do it a little less often. You’ll be glad for this come month 182.



Love,

JMo

24 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Happy Birthday! You turned two years old on Friday, and we’ve been celebrating ever since. We began Friday morning with presents – an enormous Shrek doll from Clay and a tent from your Granny and Pop. You lugged Shrek around all morning and at one point gathered both Shrek and your Shrek Baby into your arms for a “family hug.” We continued the festivities with a trip to IHOP for lunch, where you gobbled up some pancakes and charmed the waitresses. Word spread that it was your birthday and suddenly the entire wait staff appeared to sing “Happy Birthday” and deliver an ice cream sundae. You were a little afraid of the singing strangers at first, but as soon as they finished the song and dispersed you began requesting, “Let’s do it again!” – a phrase we heard repeatedly in the last month.

By the time your dad arrived home that evening you were in a most excellent mood. You ran and grabbed him by his legs, giving him barely enough time to drop his things before dragging him into your new tent. The two of you politely shared pasta noodles in the tent while I finished dinner. I couldn’t help but laugh when your father expressed amazement at your wonderful temperament. You see, generally when he arrives home in the evening you are, how do I say this nicely? Oh yes, a GROUCH. You are either tired because you didn’t nap at school, hungry because you didn’t eat much lunch, upset because I won’t serve you a dinner of Cheetos and Popsicles, or just plain hysterical because Heavy Baby looked at you wrong or the ceiling fan refused to “GO AWAY!” So it turns out that the key to keeping you happy all day is to shower you with presents and fill you up with pancakes and ice cream. Who would’ve guessed?

To keep the merriment going after dinner, we presented you with our present – a pink Schwinn tricycle. You were beyond thrilled with your “motorcycle,” as you called it, even if you didn’t quite get the hang of pedaling. While you pushed yourself along on the trike, a boy that recently moved onto our street proceeded to crash his bicycle in the middle of the cul-de-sac. As he lay on the pavement crying and his mother rushed to check on him, you pointed and yelled, “Boy fall down! Bump his head! I don’t touch him!” You repeated the story of the boy’s harrowing fall long after he went inside for treatment and then reemerged to sit on his driveway and contemplate whether or not he would ever ride again. I’m sure he found comfort in your pointing and excited retelling of his accident to all the other neighbor folk. I, on the other hand, was a bit perplexed by this “I don’t touch him” business. Later in the weekend, as we read from Fancy Nancy (a wonderful gift from your pal Andra), you took special interest in the part where Nancy falls down and once again assured me that “I don’t touch her.” I finally realized that this must be something learned at school, an automatic denial to assure you are not blamed for someone else’s misfortune. I imagine it goes something like this: a boy falls down in the classroom, begins to cry, and twenty little arms go up in the air and a chorus of “Not me! I don’t touch him!” rings out. Your teacher surely deserves a medal of some sort.

Returning to our birthday tale, Saturday morning found us getting ready for your Shrek-themed party at Baby Power and Forever Kids. I made the unfortunate decision to let you see the Shrek Castle cake an hour or so before the party was set to begin. The sight of those luscious green cupcakes worked you into an immediate frenzy. You began yelling, “I wanna have it! Wanna eat it! Want my party!!!” and became wild-eyed like a tiger sensing fresh meat. You literally began gnawing on the corner of our dining room table when it became apparent that I wasn’t going to LET YOU HAVE IT, LET YOU EAT IT no matter how hard you begged.

Somehow we talked you down and managed to make it to the party with both you and the cake intact. Despite the presence of seven toddlers, the party was without any major drama or incidents. You enjoyed playing in the gym with your friends, Abby, Alexandra, Andrew, Ava, Layla, and Preston, but still snuck away several times to “check” on your cupcakes. We eventually moved to the party room for refreshments where I expected you to tear into the cake before we finished singing “Happy Birthday.” Instead you were a little spooked by the singing and clamped onto my hand for reassurance. That was perfectly in keeping with your changing needs for comfort in the past month. We went from “Hold you” to “Hold my hand,” almost overnight, which is fortunate now that you are nearing 30 lbs and also a little sad, because my baby is almost gone.

Once I freed my hand and blood returned to my fingers, we handed out the cupcakes and watched as different personalities manifested through cupcake eating styles. Preston was the most enthusiastic of the bunch, tearing into his cupcake with the same energy he devotes to all his toddler pursuits. You, on the other hand, were downright prissy in the way you bit into yours ever so carefully and stopped periodically for us to wipe your hands. After cupcakes the party began to wind down. We handed out our Shrek-emblazoned gift bags and the party hostess started passing out balloons for each child to take home. Big mistake. You began to cry almost instantly for everyone to “PUT THEM BACK! PUT THEM AWAY” – quick, before we all DIE! Your friends, busy yanking on the strings of their shiny new balloons, showed little concern for the impending doom or interest in putting the balloons back, so you continued to cry until everyone dispersed. I’m not sure what set off this sudden fear of balloons but I will admit that I too had a balloon phobia as a child. I couldn’t stand the sight of those ticking time bombs, waiting to explode and traumatize some innocent child. So, I guess it’s safe to say you acquired at least one crazy neurosis from me. The prissiness, on the other hand – well, you’ll have to thank your father for that.

The day after the party we met all of your grandparents for a final birthday celebration at Bugaboo Creek. You had been to the restaurant several times before and found it immensely enjoyable due to all the animals mounted on the walls. They are mostly fake, thank goodness, and animated to talk and move at various points throughout a meal. You were, however, on this evening particularly fascinated with a real deer/buck/Bambi hanging on the wall above us. You wanted to know, “Where’s his tail?” and then, “Where’s his daddy?” The answer to the first question was far too sad for dinner conversation, so your father chose to focus on the positive and told you, “His daddy ran faster and got away.” In case we didn’t have enough animal heads with our evening, the waiters came out with a moose costume head and serenaded you one more time with “Happy Birthday.” You looked slightly less terrified and sat through the entire song without clinging to an adult, so I guess we made some progress over the course of the weekend. You did, however, refuse to kiss the moose and hooray for that. Even two-year olds deserve some dignity.

So, to summarize a particularly long and winding update, we spent three days celebrating your first two years of life. You’ve not been with us long, my love, but you have packed some of the most defining and spectacular moments of my life into that short timeframe. I love you more than you can possibly imagine. Now get busy planning 33 days of celebration for my next birthday. Here’s a hint – less balloons, more jewelry.

Love,
JMo (aka Mommy)

23 Month Update

Dear Lana,

You turned 23 months old a couple of days ago. That means you are now just a month shy of two years, the age at which the American Academy of Pediatrics says it is okay for kids to begin watching some television. After reading several alarming reports and a book on the effects of television on young minds, I came to agree with that recommendation and took pains to limit your TV consumption in our house. Fortunately for me, you showed almost no interest in television for the first 22 months of your life. Then you saw a few minutes of Shrek and life as we know it came to an end.

For the last month, the first words out of your mouth every morning were, "Wanna see Shrek!" You would sit on the couch watching the movie and drinking your morning cup of milk like a little Shrek zombie, snapping out of your trance only long enough to inquire, "Where Shrek?" whenever he wandered off screen. Before I knew it we were watching Shrek in the mornings before breakfast, right before nap time, and in the evening before bed time. I began to wake up with the music from Shrek lodged in my head and found I could recite every line from the movie. I tried introducing some new children's movies like my personal favorite, Annie. Poor Little Orphan Annie barely finished her first song before you were demanding more Shrek. Your Grandma Omo was kind enough to purchase Finding Nemo, so I talked you into watching a few minutes of that. I started to think you were actually interested when you looked at me and asked, "Where Nemo's Daddy?" I pointed him out and you replied, "Ok. I WANNA WATCH SHREK!!!"

When you weren't busy watching Shrek and inquiring into the whereabouts of Donkey, Fiona, and Dragon, you occupied yourself by asking about everyone else you could think of: "Where my Daddy? Where my Granny? Where my Rico? Where Preston? Where Andra?" Your teacher told me that you would often stop what you were doing on days at school and ask, "Where John Mayes?" or "Where my JMo?" I guess at some point during the month you decided that mommy was a baby term and you began almost exclusively calling me JMo. I think it perplexes your teachers, but I actually find it quite endearing.

Speaking of endearing, you learned the fine art of complimenting and used it to great effect in the past month. When your father would return home from work and scoop you up into his arms, you'd look him over and say something like, "I like your shirt." When I modeled my new bathing suit you said, without any encouragement, "JMo cute." You also learned that meeting new people is a lot easier when you have something nice to say, like the little girl you were introduced to at the pool named Bernadette. She was hanging out with Samantha, an older girl from the neighborhood who loves children. When Sam left the pool for a second there was a bit of an awkward silence as you and Bernadette eyed each other, and then you walked over to her and said, "Hi! I like your hair." Bernadette smiled and I nearly overdosed on the cuteness of the moment.

Apparently, your cuteness has earned you some extra attention at school as well. For a couple of days after school you reported that, "CJ knock me down" and you'd occasionally blurt out, "Go away CJ!" I talked to your teachers and found out that CJ is a boy in the other middle 2K class that you run into on the playground. He developed a crush on you almost immediately and began chasing your around the playground attempting to give you hugs. Unfortunately, CJ is the Paul Bunyan of two-year-olds and his attempts at affection left you on the ground or scrambling into the arms of one of the teachers.

Less abrasive but just as interested is Kaleb, a boy in your class who has recently taken to handing me your backpack and lunchbox when I arrive to pick you up. He occasionally grabs his own bags in hopes that we'll bring him home with us, and once he even chased you out the door yelling, "Kiss, kiss, kiss!" You stopped and allowed him to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before scampering out the door and away from your boy troubles for a couple of days.

I figured that boys would be a problem for us at some point, but I am surprised to be worrying about them even before your second birthday. Come to think of it, almost everything about how fast you are growing surprises me. One evening this past month you were playing with your car, climbing in and out with a purse slung over your shoulder. You bid farewell to your father, so he joined in the game and asked, "Are you going to work?" You looked at him in amazement and said, "I'm going to school." Then you actually rolled your eyes, shook your head, and muttered, "Work!" to yourself before driving off to tell all your friends about your clueless dad.

It is an absolute joy to watch you grow, my sweet Lana Kathleen, but please try to take your time. And remember, boys are ICKY.

Love,

JMo

22 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Yesterday you turned 22 months old. I won’t lie to you – the past month was a tough one. I knew it would be tough and I dreaded it for some time because this, my dear, was the month that you began nursery school. I did everything I could to make this an easy transition for you. I enrolled you several months ago in a Mommy and Me toddler class to get you used to interacting with other children. I found an excellent school affiliated with a local church that I knew would provide a safe, loving, and educational atmosphere. I enrolled you in the two-day a week program to give you time to adjust and continue to enjoy days spent with your beloved Granny. I setup play dates with our neighbor and your new classmate, Preston, to ensure you had a familiar face in class.

I’d like to think that all of those things helped, but in the end we both found ourselves crying our eyes out on the first day of school. I held it together while you lunged and cried for me from your new teacher’s arms and made it all the way home before I collapsed on the floor in tears. I sat in my office with my stomach in knots and counted the hours until I could pick you up. I watched in amazement as you sat calmly eating Cheerios when I arrived that afternoon, but just as soon as you saw me you dissolved into tears again.

What surprised me the most about that first week was how your insecurity and fear didn’t end when you left school, how it crept into our once comfortable routines of dinner time, bed time, and days at home with Granny. You were clingy, grumpy, short-tempered, and absolutely petrified of returning to school. You realized something was up as I dressed you for the next day of school and out of desperation tried to redirect me by shouting, “Store! Store? Wanna go store!” The redirection became even more literal on the third day of school, when you turned around in your car seat as we approached the building and began pointing in the opposite direction yelling, “NO!!! DIS WAY!!!”

And so it went for almost two weeks. You did, however, show signs of improvement with each new day until, on the fifth day, I knew you were finally settled in when I received a report that you ate your lunch, took a nap, and unclenched long enough to take a poop away from home. Never before has a poop meant so much to me. I wish now that I could go back to the early part of the month and give us both a huge hug, wipe away our tears, and let us know that things would work out just fine. That in a few weeks time you would be all smiles while talking about school, professing your love for Ms. Jessie and Ms. Connie, and providing detailed reports on your classmates (“Kaleb cries, Chad trouble, Ethan’s daddy cute”).

Your adjustment to the school routine made life at home much easier and often times, more interesting. You began to mimic the routines of school days and started applying the “time” label to every part of the day. Breakfast became “Cheer-O Time!” and diaper changes were, appropriately enough, “Change Time!” We engaged in “Clean up Time!” throughout the day – I recall one day in particular when you chanted, “Ms. Jessie says clean up!” over and over until I wished Ms. Jessie would also institute quiet time. The one special “time”, however, that I enjoyed the most was without a doubt “Daddy Time!” Each evening when your father would return home from work, you would literally drop whatever you were doing and run to the door squealing, “DADDY TIME!!” and clapping your little hands. This was such a nice change of pace from your previous grumplepuss greeting of, “Go away, Daddy!” earlier in the month and also an approach that’s much more likely to get you that little sports car when you turn 16.

Your manners, like your attitude, also showed a significant improvement toward the end of the month. You began consistently using words like “Please”, “Thank You”, “Bless You”, and even an occasional “Yes, Maam.” One day I fed you a piece of sliced cheese and you sweetly offered up a “Thank you, Mommy , JMo” after every single bite. You also started to talk more about your feelings, as in “The moon scared – don’t like it” and “I love this shirt – cute."

Perhaps my favorite moment of the entire month came on a Saturday when I had praised you repeatedly for your impeccable manners and your remarkably improved coordination. After climbing the stairs up to my office in record time you paused at the top, turned to look at me, threw your hands up over your head Rocky Balboa style and declared, “I am SO big!”

Indeed you are, my amazing big girl.

Love,
Mommy, JMo

21 Month Updade

Dear Lana,

For 21 months now I have sat down in front of my computer on or around the 29th of the month to recap your most recent exploits. And each month when I think back on the things you have done or said, I feel so totally enamored with you that I can’t help but recall a passing comment from a neighbor shortly after your birth. As she watched me stroll my colicky baby (that was you) around and around our cul-de-sac, she looked at her own four year old son playing in the yard and told me she enjoyed him the most between the ages of six and 14 months. Her comment both disturbed and intrigued me. Most of all, it made me wonder if I would ever look back and identify a time span that I enjoyed you most. As it turns out, the answer is yes. Every month that we spend together is my favorite time with you. Every month I grow to love you more and every month you grow cuter, sweeter, and funnier. My only concern is that you cannot possibly keep this up. You will have to either stop increasing in cuteness at some point or run the risk of being squeezed to death by your adoring Mommy.

What makes you so ridiculously cute, you ask? Well let’s start with your talking, because there has been plenty of that in the past month. You’ve maintained a running dialogue of the events around you and become particularly adept at identifying all the people in your world. You speak at great length about your Granny and Pop, your Omo, Opop and Uncle Kyle, as well as your friends Gracie, Michael, Layla, Andra, and Preston. You pretend to talk to them on the phone and instruct your father and me to sing marathon rounds of "Happy Birthday” to each one in turn. My favorite part of your interest in names, however, is your tendency to call your father “John Mayes” and me “Jiffer” or “JMo” (your father’s nickname for me). You do it most often when you want to get my attention, like last Saturday when we were shopping at a Carter’s store and you were determined to show me something. “Mommy come!” you requested. “Just a minute, Lana,” I replied. “Mommy, COME!” you repeated, and then abrupty began howling, “JMo, JMo, JAAAYYY MOWWWW!” That turned a few heads, even in a store filled with moms who are used to hearing odd things from the mouths of toddlers.

You’ve also learned how to better communicate what you want, like “wanna eat”, “want popsicle”, “want nap”, and “want lick [insert name of any animal here]”. Your most frequent request as of late, however, is “Mommy hold you.” This is my cue to pick you up and comfort you whenever you are scared, hurt, or just unsure. You remain shy and want to be held when introduced to new people or situations, but you absolutely love to observe the people we encounter. This is most evident when we’re out to dinner and our fellow diners inevitably begin to wave and smile at you. You often smile shyly and occasionally even wave back, but if anyone dares approach you latch on to me like you’re anticipating a kidnapping attempt. Still, you “WANNA SEE PEOPLE!” and especially “WANNA SEE BABIES!” whenever we’re out and about.

Speaking of babies, let’s talk about your baby dolls. You've been playing with a couple of my old baby dolls since around your first birthday and you’ve acquired a few new ones since then. During one shopping outing at Babies R Us, you grabbed hold of a soft little doll with brown piggy tails and barely let go long enough for the cashier to ring her up. As we returned home you pointed to the house across the street and began chanting our neighbor’s name, “Sally, Sally, Sally” while hugging your baby tight. The doll’s been known as Sally ever since and her christening marked the beginning of assigning names to all the dolls in your collection. Some are purely functional, like “Heavy Baby” or “Bald Baby”. Others are named in honor of new friends, like “Preston”, the doll acquired shortly after your introduction to a cute little blonde boy down the street. The dolls have offered you a great deal of comfort in the past month, whether it’s sleeping with you in your crib or wearing band-aids to make you feel better about your own boo boos. You, in turn, have been taking much better care of them – only rarely pitching them across the room in a fit of rage. And that, my dear, is just good parenting.


Thanks for making month #21 my very favorite month with you. I’m sure it will hold that special honor for at least three more weeks.

Love,
Mommy

20 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Yesterday you turned 20 months old. Do you remember a couple of months ago when I wrote that you almost never said "Mommy" in my presence? Oh my, how quickly things change around here. For most of the past month, you maintained a running dialogue of things your dear Mama should do: "Mommy, come. Mommy, sit. Mommy, taste. Mommy, sing," and so on. My favorite of all is "Mommy, reeeeach!" which you say when I come into the vicinity of something you want but can't have at the moment, like the bottle of Sprite ("SPITE!") on the top shelf of the refrigerator. I love the way you say it with such urgency and hopefulness, as if the only reason you aren't drinking Sprite with breakfast is because your poor Mommy can't reach the bottle.

At this point I've completely lost track of the number of words and sentences you can say. You love to mimic new words and will very reliably chant the last word in a sentence overheard in a conversation or on television. That's proved problematic on a couple of occasions, when Mommy or Daddy's last word was something that's generally frowned upon in the Bible Belt. Luckily, your memory for those words is remarkably short – either that or you are saving them up for the first day of school at the Christian academy you will begin attending part-time this summer.

In other language news, you decided a couple of weeks ago that it was finally time to call Rico by his name and not the generic title, "Doggie." I began to worry when you learned the names of all the other dogs in the family, but still you refused to recognize Rico by his name. I think the turning point came on the playground when the neighborhood children converged on Rico, shouting his name and extending dirty little hands to pet him. Miraculously, no digits were lost (way to go, Rico!) and you joined in shouting his name, all the while beaming with pride to be the owner of such a popular canine.

Truly, I have no doubts that you consider yourself to be in charge of poor Rico, given the pleasure you take in ordering him around pointing out his mistakes. You absolutely love to come in and point out the locations of "messes" made by Rico while we are out – most often they involve the destruction/consumption of some snack left on a table or in a diaper bag. Those messes are your favorite topic of conversation when you meet someone new: "Doggie, mess. Trouble." One day we were standing out in the back yard and Rico began rolling in the grass. This is a habit we try to discourage, but on this particular occasion I was distracted and didn't notice until you dropped the ball you were playing with, ran over to Rico and began yelling, "NO! Dirty!" You then proceeded to chase him around the yard, brushing grass off his back until you were satisfied with his cleanliness. I can tell that Rico is annoyed to have a tiny human bossing him around, but he generally handles it with grace and is handsomely rewarded when grilled cheese sandwiches rain down on him from your highchair.

The lovely weather allowed us to spend even more time outside last month, which pleased you to no end. You could hardly stand to spend an entire hour inside because that was one whole hour that you were not strolling, playing ball, sliding, or throwing rocks in the lake. This is exactly what I pictured when I was pregnant with you – your father and me catching you as you slide, teaching you how to kick a ball, chasing you as you enjoy the simple pleasure of running as fast as your little legs will allow. As an adult, it's easy to forget how fun those things can be. Thank you so much for letting us relive all those experiences through you.

Love,
Mommy


(Photo at top courtesy of Amy Jackson Photography. And, no, we did not ask her to pose like a ballerina. That was one lovely, lucky moment out of five minutes of whining, crying, and poopy pants. Amy's a pro for capturing it.)

19 Month Update

Dear Lana,

It certainly didn’t take me 19 months to figure out that you are running the show around here, but seriously, kiddo. Do you have to be so bossy about it? You spent most of the past month barking orders at anyone who will listen: “Mama, come. SIT DOWN! Geese, come. Eat, eat, eat. Doggy, move. Hush! GO! JUMP!!!” For the most part your orders are well intentioned – anyone or anything that sparks your interest is instructed to come and sit down. Unfortunately, your tone gives the overall impression that you are training an unruly puppy, not speaking to adults who’ve managed just fine for years without a toddler telling them what to do. You’ve even developed the very adult habit of sometimes calling your father John instead of Daddy, which he finds disturbing and I find hilarious.

Bossiness aside, you’ve been a real treat to be around this past month. The warmer weather and longer hours of daylight have allowed us to enjoy an array of after-dinner activities, your favorite of which is strolling down to our neighborhood lake to feed the resident geese. You chant “Geese, Geese, Geese!” all the way to the water’s edge and then delight in feeding our fowl friends an array of leftover sandwich bread and hotdog buns.

One of our most exciting lake adventures, however, had very little to do with the geese and a lot to do with “Doggie” (known as Rico to everyone but you). When the geese failed to appear as usual one evening, your father began throwing rocks into the lake to get their attention. A few minutes went by with no geese, so I scooped you up and turned to walk up towards your father (still busy throwing rocks). I heard the small splash of a pebble hitting the water a few feet from the shore, followed immediately by a large splash of unknown origins. We turned around quickly – expecting to see a goose – and instead found Rico treading water in the lake. The expression on his face told me that he was as surprised to find himself in the water as we were, which makes sense given that he has spent nine long years avoiding water at all costs. My initial horror turned to delight as Rico doggie-paddled himself back to shore and then ran around in circles celebrating his unexpected (and likely accidental) achievement. You were proud of him, too, and spent the next couple weeks telling anyone who would listen about how “Doggie jump…water…swim!” Now whenever we return to the lake you encourage him to, “Jump, Doggie, jump!”

Our other recent outings have been to a Mommy and Me class for toddlers, where you have the chance to play in a little gym and then move to a classroom where we sings songs and play instruments. After four weeks of classes you still refuse to actively participate in the singing and dancing, so I’m left to move your arms back and forth like some awkward marionette. You are, however, showing signs of coming out of your shell in this new setting. You are quick to participate in the gym activities and can do a better forward roll than anyone in the class. You also made your first friend in class – a little girl named Gracie who was kind enough to return the balls you were busy hurling out of the ball pit one day and who you talk about frequently between classes.

You may be reluctant to sing in class, but you’ve been happy to serenade us with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” here at home. You do a rowing motion that looks like you’re operating an imaginary jackhammer, and you sing about every fifth word: “Row, row, stream, dream!” You continue to show little interest in television as a whole, but you sure do enjoy singing along to American Idol. I had difficulty critiquing the performances last week because you joined in on almost every song with a very loud chorus of “Gomi, gomi, gomi, gomi… gomi.” I have no idea what “Gomi” means, but I’m sure Randy and Paula would be proud of the way you made the songs your own.

All my love,
Mama

18 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Today you turn 18 months old – a whole year and a half! To celebrate we began the morning with a cup of milk, a little light reading, a serious tantrum come time to get dressed, and a breakfast of grapes. In short, like every other day this month.

It really is amazing how much you change in just a matter of weeks. Last month I wrote about your obsession with cheese and your stubborn refusal to have your hands cleaned. This month you are absolutely enamored with fruit (grapes and oranges are your favorite) and determined to keep your hands clean. You’re doing a much better job of consistently using utensils, but when you do elect to eat with your hands you stop after every bite or two, hold out your dirty hand and say, “Eww, eww, eww” until the offending digits are wiped clean. Do you have any idea how surprising this is for me, to wipe your hand without you squealing like a little pig? The first few times that this happened I gave you a quick inspection to check for signs of alien abduction.

And as thrilled as I am to have you delighting in healthy fare, I am also well aware that an all fruit diet makes very bad things happen in your diaper. Some of your post-grape-binge poops have been so stinky that you at last abandoned your policy for denying their existence. Instead you scrunch up your face and correctly identify the source of the stink as “POO!!” then helpfully point to your diaper. You’ve also become strangely intrigued with the contents of the diapers once they are removed, pointing to wet diapers and chanting “pee, pee, pee,” while referring to poopy diapers as “dirrrty.” Now that you are starting to grasp the mechanics of onesies and twosies, you often call one or the other out just before you do the deed. Unfortunately, just before really means mere milliseconds before, so I’m out of luck if you happen to be sans diaper when you make the call. I’m also suddenly aware that you do much more than just bathe in the bathtub.

In non-body function news, you continue to talk more every day and can now name everyone in our immediate family, save for a couple of small quirks. First off, you rarely call me Mama to my face – only under the direst circumstances will you say “Mama” instead of your usual grunt that means, “Hey woman, get over here and feed me grapes!” And when we look at pictures that include me, you almost always identify me as Daddy. I suspect you do this just to annoy me since you have no problem pointing out Mama when other people ask you to. But, at least I’m faring better than poor Rico, who will forever be called “Dog” as far as you are concerned.

One of the few times that you will reliably call me Mama is when you wake up in the middle of the night or early in the morning. Your father and I typically adhere to a five minute waiting period when you wake in the night since you will often cry for a couple of minutes and then go right back to sleep. That is so much harder to do now that we hear your little voice calling over the baby monitor: “Daddy? Mama? Daddy? Ganny?” Luckily you have not yet learned how much power you have with that – how my heart melts every time I hear you call my name.

I can’t imagine anything more amazing than watching a child grow from a peanut with a heartbeat to a walking, talking person full of new ideas and enthusiasm for life. Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity, my precious little girl.

Love,
Mama

17 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Today you are 17 months old, and that makes you a very big girl. So big, in fact, that you’ve given up your baby bottles and started drinking your milk out of a martini glass. Alright – I’m exaggerating slightly, but you did wiggle out of my lap on the evening of our first full day sans bottle and proceed to kick back in a chair with your Nuby milk cup and your trusty Elmo pail. The sight of you in that chair swilling milk was pretty amazing because for 16 long months you flat out refused to hold a bottle yourself. Even after you developed the dexterity to feed yourself with utensils, you still sat in my lap with your limbs hanging uselessly at your side whenever a bottle of milk was produced. On the occasions that I was bold enough to suggest that you hold the bottle yourself, you looked at me like I’d just asked you to go out in the woods and forage for food. So, sudden independent milk drinking? That's a big step.

You’ve also begun to try and exert control in other areas of your life, including the foods you eat and the grooming you will tolerate. On the food end of things, you love all things cheesy. Macaroni and cheese, cheese grits, cheese toast, cheese dip, cheese crackers, and most especially Cheetos. You walk around the kitchen chanting, “Cheese, cheese, CHEEEESE!” If that doesn’t work you tug on my leg and offer up a plaintive, “Cheeese, pleeeease?” Then, when it comes time to clean all that cheese off your face and hands, you go… what’s the word I’m looking for? Apeshit. Yes, that's a good description. You wail and squirm and generally act like a wild animal being subjected to a root canal. Ditto for any attempts to style your hair. My aunt somehow managed to get your hair into piggy tails one day, and it was the cutest thing I’ve nearly ever seen. I’ve tried since then to replicate the look, but after a few wildly unsuccessful attempts I’ve decided that my sanity is more important than your hairstyle. How will I enjoy the adorable ponytails if my head explodes in the process?

Another sign of your development in the past month is your growing interest in baby dolls. You have a couple of dolls that you carry around – one that you received over Christmas and one that belonged to me as a child. It amazes me to watch you interact with the “BAY-beees” and copy the things your father and I do with you. You feed them bottles, read them books, lay them down on a pillow to change their diapers, and wrap them up in blankets to rock them to sleep. You even give us a stern look and a shush if we make too much noise when the babies are sleeping. Also, you’re quite the disciplinarian. If the babies ever behave poorly, you’re quick to throw them to the ground and, on at least one occasion, you bit a baby on the head. These are not discipline techniques that we’ve tried with you and I imagine they would be frowned upon by parenting experts. But those are some very well-behaved babies.

Finally, I cannot complete an update of the past month without talking about your vocabulary. You’ve become quite the chatterbox, learning a new word almost every day. You often flip through your books pointing out “trees, balls, kittens, and shoes.” Sometimes you don’t feel like being specific, so you just chant, “I know, I know…” as you turn the pages. You can tell us when you want to “play” and you even correctly identified the first “snow” to fall at our home since your birth. All of your words are music to my ears, even your go-to response of “No, no, no.” I love you more with every passing day, my beautiful, rapidly growing girl.

Love,
Mom

16 Month Update

Dear Lana,

You turn 16 months old today, just days after celebrating your second Christmas. You thoroughly enjoyed the preparations leading up to Christmas this year, including the decorations around the house and in our neighborhood. I am still amazed that you left our Christmas tree and the presents beneath it intact. That tree must have looked like a shiny beacon of toddler temptation standing in the corner of our living room, but after we told you not to remove the ornaments you actually listened to us. You were even kind enough to pass along our instructions to holiday visitors – walking over to the tree, tapping on an ornament or two, and then giving a pointed look and a stern “No, No!”

As much as you enjoyed our holiday décor, it didn’t hold a candle to the large, inflatable snowman in our neighbor’s yard across the street. I spent a good portion of the month chasing you down the driveway as you went to visit the snowman – to talk to him, admire him, ask for his sage advice. In an attempt to keep you out of the neighbor’s yard we purchased our own snow family and slapped them down on the front lawn. Alas, they were no substitute for the original snowman, and the chase across the street continued.

Christmas day proved to be a lot of fun, although you showed only a passing interest in opening presents. After watching Rico tear into his package, you obliged us by opening a gift or two. You took a look at the shoes and the stacking blocks we lovingly selected for you and gave a disinterested, “Meh” before shuffling off to retrieve a favorite book. It wasn’t until we came upon a present filled with new books that we managed to draw your attention back to us. Your face lit up in a “Now that’s more like it!” expression and we spent the remainder of the morning reading dog-themed books like What Do You Say, I’ll Teach My Dog 100 Words, and the aptly named title, Dog.

The gift-opening ritual was repeated twice more on Christmas day at the homes of your grandparents, where you delighted all with warm Christmas hugs (including my parent’s dog, Josie, pictured at right). You received a lot of loot from the grandparents, of course. Your immediate favorites were a book (surprise!) of baby words, a toothbrush, and a Dora the Explorer phone that addresses you personally: “HOLA, LANA!!!”

Your enthusiasm for oral hygiene makes you a proud part of the Mayes family tradition, from your never-had-a-cavity Dad to your stocking-full-of-dental-floss Grandma. When I began brushing my teeth the morning after Christmas, you came barreling into the bathroom yelling “Teeth, teeth, TEETH!” I was so surprised to hear you saying a completely new word that it took me a minute to realize you were asking for your new Elmo toothbrush.

There have been a lot of episodes like that in the past month, where you shock me by transitioning from baby gibberish to perfectly formed and applied words. Your vocabulary now includes the words Dog, Teeth, Hey, Bye, Shoes, Juice, Mom, Dad, Baby, Bad (you hear that in reference to the dog, not you), No (said frequently to both the dog and you), Man (as in snowman), and Stack. Note that I’m only counting your “real” words – words that are clear and discernable even to strangers. I’ve noticed that a lot of parents have a tendency to label every consonant or fuzzy utterance as a word and then brag about how their babies are speaking in complete sentences. Not that I’m any stranger to bragging, but I’m not bold enough to try and pass off the string of gibberish that comes out of your mouth after you poot and laugh about it as a meaningful dialogue on the wonders of the digestive process.

All in all, it was another wonderful month and a Christmas made extra special by observing it through your eyes. Thanks for keeping us in the holiday spirit all month long. And also, good call on the Wal-Mart Santa. That guy was totally creepy.

Love,

Mom

15 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Today you turned 15 months old. The past month is probably best described as the month of “NO!” It began innocently enough, when I asked you, my mostly non-conversational child, if you had poop in your pants. To my surprise, you responded with an emphatic, “NO!”, and a string of head shakes and denials. The stench from your diaper tipped me off that this wasn’t the case, but “no, no, no” was your story and you were sticking to it.

Since then, you respond to almost every query with a “No” and a head shake. Only the very best things in life, like graham crackers and shopping trips, earn a hiss of approval (your version of yes) or a “peease.” You even tell yourself “No” sometimes, usually when you’re in the middle of a pressing task like the relocation of the contents of our pantry to the living room. When you are consumed with an activity like this your brow furrows and you mutter instructions to yourself as you go. Occasionally, you’ll stop in your tracks, shake your head, and say, “No, no, no,” as if you’ve mulled it over and reached the decision that a can of peas on the sofa is pure insanity. You make a quick about face and then head off in the opposite direction, transporting the peas to their new and improved destination in the laundry room.

Your love of books has grown in the past month to the point of near obsession. We read between three to 10 books before breakfast each morning and some are so good that they require repeat readings throughout the day. Your favorites right now are Great Day for Up! and Walk the Dog. The former is a Dr. Seuss book that your grandmother brought over and has the name "John" penciled in carefully by a little boy who grew up to be your Dad. The latter is a bargain book that I bought from Amazon while I was still toting you around in my belly. I remember showing it to a coworker and laughing when he asked if it was a book about chores. I’m still considering publishing my own line of books based on that idea. The first titles will be Empty Your Diaper Pail and Unload the Dishwasher. Look out, J.K. Rowling.

Your other favorite pastime is walking around and talking on the phone. We’ve given you plenty of decoy phones -- and I’m talking really good decoys like my old cell phone that’s still in fine working condition. You have no trouble, however, recognizing these phones as frauds and insist on walking around with our home phone tucked beneath your chin. You repeat “Hey” and “Bye” over and over as you stroll from room to room, and occasionally you utilize caller ID to ring my cousin’s cell phone or get bored and pitch the handset into the tub. I really have to hand it to V-Tech for making a product that still works after being dropped repeatedly, thrown considerable distances, and submerged in water. If only televisions were so durable.

All in all, it’s been another delightful month. You’ve turned into a social butterfly and I love nothing more than to take you out and watch as you charm the people you meet with your beautiful smile and your hearty greetings of “Hey, hi and bye.” You make everyone around you happy, most especially me.

Love,

Mom

14 Month Update

Dear Lana,

You are officially 14 months old, and I am officially an addict. I came to this realization in the airport today as I made a quick day trip for work. Everywhere I turned were babies – babies in strollers, babies in car seats, babies toddling behind their mothers who didn’t have to leave them behind for work. I hadn’t even left Atlanta yet and I was already going through withdrawal. Things got so bad on the way home that I briefly considered asking the woman sitting two rows ahead of me on the plane to let me hold her baby. I was hoping for a quick hit to last me until I could see you again.

I elected not to scare the poor woman because I knew that no random baby could ever substitute for you. You’ve had a strong personality from the start (drop kicks in the womb come to mind), but it’s really started to emerge in the past month. Walking has given you the freedom to do what you want and, to my total amazement, it turns out you want to help me. One morning after a particularly nasty diaper change you jumped up and grabbed the dirty diaper out of my hand. I prepared for you to fast pitch that bag of poop into the wall, but instead you toddled over to the diaper pail, pulled up the lid, and dropped the diaper in.

You also like to help out by dropping produce into the bag at the grocery store and by wiping the tub with your washcloth during a bath. The latter skill you first showed off at your grandparents’ house. (They’ve invited you to spend the night again on Friday, but I suspect it’s only because the tub needs a cleaning.) My favorite part of watching you do these things is the rousing ovation you give yourself after doing something good. It’s a technique that I should probably adopt for myself as I go through a day of thankless work and chores. Finally finished the status report? Applause, applause. Unloaded the dishwasher? Bravo, dear Jennifer.

In other news, you’re also doing more talking now and using actual words to tell us what you want. Your favorite right now is “juice” or, more precisely, “joooos.” You can identify a “doog” barking in the neighborhood, and you often recite, “No, no, no” at the exact moment that you do something you’ve been told not to. All of these choices are a tremendous improvement over your fallback method of communication, which involves entire diatribes composed only of whines and grunts: “Uhhh, uh, uh, UHHH, uh, Uhh. Uhh? UHHH, UHHH!” Keep working on that vocabulary, babe. I'd hate to have to send you to Auburn.



Love,
Mom

13 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Yesterday you turned thirteen months old. It’s fitting that I’m late writing this update, since I’ve spent the entire month struggling to keep up. Struggling to keep up with work, chores, my blog, and you, my crawling/cruising/climbing toddler. You spent the entire month racing around the house emptying out cabinets and drawers, leaving Lana bombs in every single room of the house. You have baskets of toys everywhere, but somehow you got the most enjoyment from opening my bathroom cabinet and emptying a box of tampons out on the floor, or playing with a box of disposable pooper scoopers we keep stashed away in the kitchen. Take that, Fisher-Price.

You also learned to put your height (95th percentile!) to good use snatching things off countertops and tables. As a result, we continue to migrate our items of value to higher and higher perches throughout the house. I’m afraid by next month we will have to hang them from the ceiling, since you have also proven to be a skilled climber. One day I left you playing in the living room to start making dinner. After about 30 seconds I noticed an unnatural silence and returned to find you scampering up the steps to our bonus room. You had never before even attempted to climb a step, and there you were sitting on the landing smiling down at me, your silly, negligent mother.

I never imagined you would climb stairs before walking, but it turns out that walking was not far behind. You took your first unassisted steps today, just hours before I flew out to North Carolina for a business meeting. In the back of my mind I had begun to fear that I might miss that milestone during the 24 hours that I was away. Thank you so much for having mercy on me and taking those steps before I left. It was every bit as exciting as I had hoped, watching you find your balance and make five steps before realizing that you weren’t holding on to anything and abruptly sitting down. Your Granny T and Granddaddy also happened to be visiting when you took those first steps, so you received a thunderous round of applause for your efforts. You were so pleased that you sat up on your knees and clapped right along with us. It was quite the scene – all of us clapping together like we’d just won the lottery. I keep buying tickets, so hopefully that will be next.

On the rare occasions when you slowed down this month, you did the most endearing things like offering up unsolicited hugs and “kisses”. I use the word “kiss” loosely, since your technique is less like a traditional smooch and more like an open-mouthed head butt. Rico is the primary beneficiary of your new cuddliness, receiving an average of 15 pats, four hugs, and at least one kiss a day. I, on the other hand, am lucky to get a few hugs a week. I guess it makes since, seeing as how the dog wakes up early every morning and changes your diaper, prepares your meals, and catches you as you attempt to hurl yourself off the couch throughout the day. Hmm… come to think of it, that’s me. But the dog certainly deserves hugs for all the hard work he does scratching and licking himself each day.

And even though your mommy hugs seem few and far between, they are well worth the wait. I was getting you ready for bed one evening when you crawled behind me and pulled up against my back. I could see you sidestepping around me with a sneaky grin like you were preparing to surprise me. When you saw that you had been detected, you began to gently run your fingers through my hair and then you leaned in to give me the sweetest hug I could ever imagine. That single hug made up for an entire month spent repacking boxes of tampons and poop bags. Please keep those hugs coming, my amazing Lana Kat.

Love,
Mom

12 Month Update

Dear Lana,

Happy Birthday! Today you are a whole year old. It’s hard to believe that this time last year you and I were just getting acquainted, that I spent the morning with you in my belly, the afternoon with you trying to vacate my belly, and the evening holding you in my arms. If that much changed in the course of a day, you can imagine how much has changed in the course of a year.

Witnessing your development throughout your first year of life has been truly remarkable. You’ve gone from a colicky, inconsolable newborn to a happy, charming one-year-old. You’ve learned how to roll over, sit up, laugh, clap your hands, wave, roll your tongue, hold a cup, dance, and operate the television remote. I know some adults who haven’t mastered all those things.

Your twelfth month of life, in particular, has been filled with excitement and new discoveries. For starters, you are increasingly mobile. You are now crawling like an old pro, pulling up like a little monkey, and walking like baby Frankenstein. You had the audacity to make your first walk across the room (with the assistance of a push toy) while I was working and your Granny T was watching you. She wisely chose to withhold this information from me, in hopes that I would discover you doing it and assume I was the first to see. The second time you did it was with your father while I was once again out of the room. After he put you to bed for the night he strolled upstairs and nonchalantly asked if I had seen you walk yet. As if the woman who keeps him informed of your quality and quantity of bowel movements would simply forget to mention a little thing like walking. You finally had the decency to show me your walk the following morning, and I’ve since learned to accept that I might not always be the first one to see your major milestones – even though I totally deserve that honor. You were almost 10lbs at birth, remember?

In the past month you’ve also become increasingly fascinated with the things and the people in your world, and eager to point them out to us. You’ve gotten into the habit of greeting your father when he comes home from work with a perfunctory wave followed by a pointing tour of the major attractions in the room you are currently occupying. One day he arrived home early and caught you by surprise. You gave him a quick wave and then frantically looked around the room in search of something, anything, to point to. “Oh, no! Dad’s home and I’ve got nothing! Let’s see… the plant – no I did that yesterday! Where are the balloons? Someone moved the balloons!! They were up there and NOW THEY ARE GONE!! Wait, what’s that up there? Yes, it’s the ceiling fan! Quick, point at that! Whew, good save.”

When I think back on the past year and the changes it has brought, I can’t decide whether it flew or crawled by. I can’t believe that you are already turning one, but I also struggle to remember a time before you were in my life. If the past year has taught me anything, it’s that motherhood is full of those contradictions. That I can simultaneously wish to spend every waking moment with you and also long for a break from mommy duties. That I can dream about what you will be like as a toddler, a teenager, an adult, but also yearn to keep you my baby forever. That I can be profoundly unable to describe my love for you, but completely determined to keep trying.

I could not possibly love you more or be more proud of you, my beautiful, smart, funny, sweet, one-year-old girl. Thank you for giving me the most amazing year of my life.

Love,
Mom



(Photos in this post courtesy of Sabrina Sexton).

11 Month Update

Dear Lana,

You are 11 months old today. You weigh a little over 20 lbs., stand over 29 inches tall, have two teeth with the promise of more any day now, and are 89 percent more likely to be causing mischief* than you were just a couple of months ago.

You’ve spent the majority of the last month crawling at a surprising pace from one room to the next, dismantling anything that can be taken apart, throwing anything that isn’t nailed down, and generally thwarting any attempts I make to keep the house clean and organized. Your messes are so grandiose that we have given them a special name: Lana Bombs. You leave Lana Bombs everywhere – in your room, the bathroom, our bedroom, the kitchen, and even the dining room (where we moved Rico’s bowls and created a special obstacle course in an effort to keep you away from them).

The kitchen, in particular, has become a favorite hangout for you. We cleared out an entire cabinet and filled it with Tupperware, spoons, pots, and other assorted kitchen gadgets for you to play with. You love emptying out the contents of that cabinet. You’ve also become fascinated with the refrigerator and have an amazing ability to wedge yourself into the door in the few seconds it takes to remove a drink. The last time you got in there you pulled yourself up to a stand, opened up a drawer, and began dumping grapes out on the floor. I took a break from saying, “No!” for long enough to snap a photo, because seeing you on your feet is such a thrill for me. Then it was right back to cleaning up the floor.

Fortunately, I get a nice break from cleaning the floor during meal times. The Cheerios and noodles you fling from your high chair are immediately consumed by Rico, who is most pleased by your move to solid foods. In fact, his diet has consisted of more Cheerios than Purina as of late. Between mealtimes, he follows you around waiting to see if food debris will fall off as you crawl, and rarely is he disappointed. Once, after returning from the Chick-fil-a breakfast buffet, he hit the jackpot when we discovered home fries tucked into your dress and bits of biscuit in your diaper. It was a good day for the dog.

Rico had a bad day last week when I discovered that you will now give me five upon command. In the midst of my raving and demonstrating your new skill to John, Rico wandered over with a sullen look. If he could talk I’m sure he would have said, “Look kid, high fives are kind of my thing. Maybe you could learn to play dead or something.”

You’ve also become a big pointer in the last month, stopping at various places throughout the house to point out pictures, wall hangings, and other décor. You seem particularly interested in artwork and have become enthralled with a painting in your room that I did to distract myself just days before your birth. On some occasions, however, your pointing has a more practical purpose. When a mylar balloon escaped to our vaulted ceiling on your Granny T’s watch, I came downstairs from my office to find you all out of sorts. Over and over you pointed to Granny and then to the balloon, your meaning quite plain: “You, woman. Get me back that balloon! Macht schnell!”**

Finally, I cannot complete an update of your eleventh month without mentioning your penchant for rolling your tongue. I posted video of it last week, but I failed to properly emphasize the frequency with which you do it. The purring has become your automatic response when anything makes you happy. A lot like a cat. It’s actually pretty cool because I really like cats but your father is allergic to them. Now if we could just get you housetrained…

Thanks for another wonderful and wacky month, my beautiful Lana Kat.

Love,
Mom

*Note that “causing mischief” is a baby-friendly translation for getting into shit. The latter is actually a better description of what you’ve been doing all month, but I’m trying not to be a potty mouth so I can blame any cussing you do in the future on the television or, better yet, your father.

**In my imagination, you speak German when you are angry. All the better for making your point, ja?