Sunday, November 14, 2010

Newsletter: June at 12 months - no scratch that - 14.5 months

Juney and Hippo
You at 7 months old.  Photo by Dawn M

Dear June,

Looking back at your first year (or so) of life, I guess it only makes sense to start at the beginning.  You know, that whole almost-born-in-the-car incident.  I'd like to point out that your dad still hasn't ever read my account of it.  In theory he was going to write up his own version of the story and didn't want to be influenced by my take, which makes perfect sense.  But if he is waiting to sit down and write until he recovers from the shock of the whole thing, well...we'll all be waiting a long time.  You see, I look back on it in amazement, but with an overriding feeling of joy.  He's still stuck in the TOTALLY. FREAKED. OUT. stage.

At the hospital

But seriously, that was only Day 1, right?  You were just getting started.  We knew the transition from one child to two would not be easy.  But, wow was it hard.  It wasn't even your fault, either!  You were totally kicking our asses, and I had to keep reminding myself (and even more so your dad) that you were by all accounts an easy baby.  A good sleeper.  A good eater.  Healthy.  What more can anyone ask for?

From your birth announcement


The thing is, even easy babies are damn hard.  And dealing with a crying two year old, who won't let you leave the room to pee, when you're already sleep deprived to begin with would surely fry anyone's nerves, right?  I am not proud to admit it but feel it is necessary to state for posterity:  there were days on maternity leave when your father was supposed to arrive home from work at 6:00, and Steph the Nanny would be packing her bag to walk out at 5:55, and I'd look at her desperately and say, "Um, you still have 5 minutes left, right?"  I realize how lame this must sound; there are mothers of multiple children who do it all on their own and would kill for 1 hour, let alone a whole day, of hired help.  I'm just being honest and saying that sometimes, when you're trying to cook dinner, and your baby is crying, and your toddler is crying, even 5 minutes on your own feels unmanageable.  (I hope the SAHM's reading this can stop playing tiny finger violins long enough to appreciate it as the compliment that it really is.) 

All a blur

Anyway, I think I can admit this all now, because we've come so far.  Errands, parties, and park trips with two kids?  No problem.  Life is still hectic, but we're in more of a groove.  You especially - you go with the flow so well and rarely get upset by your sister's alternating emotions:  pushing you in frustration while ripping toys out of your hands, or smothering you with hugs and tickles that are well-intentioned but still a wee bit rough for a baby.  What else can I tell you that I haven't already shared on this blog?  Here's a list of 14.5 things about you that your dad and I came up with (yes, he does contribute to this blog from time to time behind the scenes), plus a boat load of photos. 

June and Georgia profesh
Photo by Dawn M

Just sturdy enough to sit in the cart  (Photo by my phone.)

1)  Puke.  My lord, the puking.  It's amazing, because you gave it up around the 6 month mark, so it seems like ancient history now.  But let us not forget the darkest days when no one was sure we'd ever feel clean.  Seriously, how did you put on weight?

A wildly dangerous move(Photo by Dawn M)

2)  You were a smiley one.  Months on end of easy smiles, with tiny dimples that occasionally appear and may only be visible to those who are looking for them.  Something has changed, though, in the past 2 months or so.  I can't tell if you're in a constant state of slow, drawn out teething putting you in slight discomfort, or if your brain is just so engrossed by EVERYTHING that comes into your field of vision that you're too busy concentrating on all of the newness around you to bother with grins unless we really work for them. 

Photo credit: Georgia. (See that little dimple?)

Juney all smiles
Photo by Dawn M

3)  You belly laugh.  You are such an easy target for laughter, and we can't get enough of it.  I guess you inherited my super-duper-unbelievably ticklish gene, because all I have to do is blow on your neck and you dissolve in a fit of giggles.  

4)  You lounge.  We call you "Little Lounger" because of the way you lean back and scrunch down into piles of pillows whenever we set you on our bed.  (If you were male, I'd say you basically look ready to stuff one hand in the top of your jeans and reach the other one into an open bag of chips.) 

5)  You make a beeline for the bath as soon as you hear the water start.  You engage in what your dad has dubbed "purposeful crawling" - clomping your way great distances at a decent clip to get where you want to go.

6)  You pig out.  According to the pediatrician, you're in the 25th-50th percentile range for weight, but that kind of surprises me, because you've got to be off the charts in quantity of food eaten at each sitting.

7) You have awesome curly hair.   We call you Little Ben Franklin sometimes, because that is your current hairstyle.  If we'd thought of it sooner, you really would've made a wonderful Benjamin Franklin for Halloween.  

Back of June's head

8)  Your eye color perplexes me.   It's blue.  But more like gray blue.  Or is it green blue?  I have actually been known to (gently) pry your eyelids apart while you are nursing so that I can get a better look up close.  I know - so mean.  But I still don't have the answer, and your Aunt Beth swears there are flecks of brown in those eyes.  I'm going with "Steel Blue" as the color.

Juney & Mama
Your daddy's eyes  (Photo by Dawn M)

9)  You like to simultaneously burrow your head (into a person or a pillow) and shake your booty.


10)  You have only 1 tooth.  The best part about this is saying, "Did you remember to brush tooth tonight?" or "Time to brush tooth!"  Seriously, though, you consumed Beer Can Chicken (your favorite), bratwurst, a full Chipotle taco, fresh apples, and many other amazing foods before you even had any teeth.  Cut small enough, you can eat anything.  You are an inspiration to old people everywhere. 


{For all the talk of how much you are enthralled by Georgia, she spends an awful lot of time trying to imitate you, too.}

11)  You have a way of getting what you want (read: you moan a lot).  It's not so cute or endearing. 

{Just what the fine silver was intended for, right?}

12)  You sign.  (Help, more, book, eat, hear, milk, up, finished, and (rarely) please.)  Just in the last several weeks this has taken off, and it is so awesome to enjoy the two way communication.  Our favorite is "hear" because you point to your head more so than your ear.  Also, I'm relieved to know that you actually can still hear well, since you managed to set off the test button on our piercingly loud carbon monoxide detector several times this year while sitting only inches away from it.  (Please stop giving us heart attacks.) 


13)  You talk. (Just barely.)  So far you say uh-oh, bye-bye, purple, blue, and book (sort of).  Since your dad and I together attended 17 years of education where purple was the school color, I'm pretty psyched it was both your first real word and Georgia's.  (How weird is that, people?)

14)  You howl at the moon.   In the Doggies book, that is.  So precious.  Of course we all join in with you, so the neighbors must really wonder...

(14.5) You have a burning desire to punch buttons.  Light switches, the microwave, whatever.  You love crawling over to the CD player and turning it on, and then you turn around with a wry little grin looking so proud of yourself and start dancing. 

You little devil, you.

Nicknames:  (other than those listed above) Junimal, Juney (or Juney June), Condor (due to your wingspan and propensity to grab things we didn't think you could reach), Whelpy-Claus  (you know, like Santa Claus, except Whelpy.  Stuff like that makes perfect sense to your dad). 

Physical oddities: you had a clogged tear duct for almost 9 months which thankfully corrected itself in time for you to avoid eye surgery; you have a herniated belly button that really comes out after you eat.  They say this too will correct the time you're five.

Stats at 1 year:  20 lbs. 5 oz., 29 1/2 in., head circumference 18 1/4 in.

Well, I could go on and on thinking of little quirks about you that we love, but I will just wrap up by saying this:  You know that cheesy, trite crap they say about your love not being divided, but your heart instead growing bigger when you have another child?  Well,'s um......totally true.  In the aftermath of childbirth and through the blurry lens of sleep deprivation, it took a while for the miracle of it all to sink in, but now we have been thoroughly consumed by it.  And by you, what with your chubby thighs and squishy bum that just demands endless kisses and frequently makes me squeeze you tightly and exclaim, "I COULD JUST EAT YOU UP!"  Through the long days and the many challenges, it has been a joy getting to know you better every day of these short 14.5 months.  Juney, Dad and I love you unconditionally, more than you will ever know.



P.S.  Could you say it soon?  This time with meaning?

P.P.S. I may have spent this year's portion of your college tuition on professional photographs at the end of March. It was an accident, I swear. Figured I might as well show them off here.


Danni said...

So sweet. Love it. What an awesome family!

Kelly said...

Oh, I got a little teary reading this, Kate. A beautifully written post for a beautiful little girl.

Beth said...

Hello, (photo credit: Aunt Beth) needs to be inserted on that last one maestro! A very sweet blog post. You will be glad you took the time to write it out, as at this moment, I cannot recall a single thing about what my children were like in their first year. Except Sam was LOUD. That I recall.

Maggie said...

Oh what a wonderful post, Kate! You are great to do this for her - and for us :-)