tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31641789588767592722024-03-13T21:35:10.874-07:00For my daughterephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-41174131886945142008-12-08T06:42:00.000-08:002008-12-08T07:03:31.250-08:00TalkingYou're finally talking. You can say many things as clear as a bell- "See it?!?" "Eat!" "Nope." "Walk Sip." "Choo Train." Other things you say clearly in your own way. "Mek Lee.", which, for those in the know, means "Pink Blanket", or "Duke" which means "Cold". Most of the time, however, you spend giving us a running commentary in jargonese. You have too much to say and not enough words to say it in. Hang in there. You'll figure this out eventually, and we'll be here with you the whole time, ok?<br /><br />You have amazed us all by beginning to identify letters. You've been singing the alphabet song (with about a quarter of the letters) for a while now, but you'll surprise us by spontaneously picking out the letters "B" and "O" off of the TV. You can also count, after a fashion. One two and three are easy enough, but after that you usually rely on us for some reminders.<br /><br />You are a very busy girl. It's so hard to take pictures of you because you're always in motion. <br /><br />About half of your time is spent moving things from one place to another. You walk around the house looking for things to get into. Then you get into them. Then you pick them up and take them to the other side of the house. Then you put them down, preferably into a spot where they will be stepped on or made available to the baby for further mayhem.<br /><br />Another quarter of your day is spent pretending/playing/bossing the baby around. The only thing better than playing in the kitchen is taking a pan away from your sister who is playing in the kitchen, then telling her what you're going to do with it.<br /><br />The rest of your day is spent trying to become one with your blanket. You might cuddle up with it on the couch, thoughtfully sucking on the hem, or you might beg your Poppy to wrap you up in it cocoon style, or you might just walk around with a pile of all the blankets/stuffed animals you can find, even if the pile is so big you can hardly walk. Ok, maybe a quarter of your day is an exaggeration, but it is definitely an important facet of your life.<br /><br />The one thing you don't spend much time doing is eating. You'll taste almost anything, and you'll snack on a few bites, but you seem to think eating is just too boring to bother with. <br /><br />I love you dearly,<br />Please eat,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-23591362385694801452008-09-05T06:09:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:32:52.662-07:00MomI wish talking weren't quite so hard for you. I can tell you're beginning to wish the same thing. You've figured out what this talking thing is for, but getting the words out of your mouth is just too hard sometimes. You'll try to say one syllable words if they are made of the sounds you are comfortable with, but you won't do two syllable ones or tricky words. You giggle instead in an effort to escape the moment.<br /><br />The "P" sound is one of the tricky ones. Of course, when you were a little tiny baby we decided that your father was a Poppy, and the name stuck for the rest of us. You can't or won't call him that or anything close to that, not that you've chosen to call him Dada or Dad or anything like that either. You've chosen to call him Mom. You say Mom perfectly and use it to mean me or him.<br /><br />Can I just tell you how much I love it? I don't know if it melts your Poppy's heart like it does mine, but I just love to hear you call him Mom.<br /><br />Wondering if you'll still be calling him that in a few years,<br />Your other Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-91464199769582330992008-06-16T15:30:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:33:09.802-07:00DustbunniesThe apartment was empty and the only thing left on the floor was a couple of dust bunnies. The ceiling fan had them spinning in slow circles. You squealed with glee when you saw them - "Hello! Hello Buggies! Oh HI!" Then you cooed to them and caught them and brought them to me.<br /><br />Pure delight.<br /><br />Love you,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-49549186331726462342008-05-30T19:33:00.001-07:002008-09-05T06:33:24.537-07:00FireworksYou saw fireworks for the first time today. I was worried it would be too much for you- loud things have always frightened you- but I thought we'd give it a try.<br /><br />When the first one went off you were so surprised. When people began to make noises you got worried. When you realized they were laughing you laughed too. Then the loud took over and you cried. And you cried till the next one went off, but it was so pretty you said "Yay!". What worked best was for me to lie on the ground so you could rest one ear on my chest while I covered the other ear with my hand. Then you'd look up at the sky and it was ok. <br /><br />I bought a hideously expensive balloon that came with a flashing light inside, and this you loved unequivocally. "Lello!! Lello!" And you'd bat at it and laugh when it batted you back.<br /><br />So glad you had a good time,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-42793756589056820412008-05-22T19:26:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:35:01.121-07:00LovelyI love you so much. You are such a joy, but I'd love you even if you weren't. You're gorgeous, but I suppose I'd love you if you had the face of a sea cow. You're a hoot to play with, but I suppose I could do without that even.<br /><br />I just hope you grow up knowing what a pleasure you are to me. I love hearing your lovely little songs. Your giggle is truly intoxicating. I love the look of concentration you get sometimes. I love to hold you, it's like holding a bird, only better because birds don't hug you back. I love your precious curls and your beautiful eyes.<br /><br />Sometimes you crawl into bed with me, get under the covers, and then sigh with the most supreme air of satisfaction. Other times you see something neat and you run through the house saying "MOM! MOM! MOM!". I can't tell you how it melts my heart to hear you finally say Mom. <br /><br />When it's time to go to bed you say "Eye?" because you want me to draw a kitty cat on your back, and instead of saying "cat" you name the part I draw that's the easiest for you to say.<br /><br />I am so glad I had you. Deeply, truly happy you're my little girl.<br /><br />Love you,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-32677203609454955002008-04-25T09:37:00.001-07:002008-04-25T09:51:25.158-07:00The cutest thing you do.You are soooo two. Every single transition in your day requires a tantrum. Getting into your highchair, getting a new diaper, going into the house, leaving the house, watching someone else leave the house, waking up in the middle of the night....that one is my personal favorite. If you wake up in the middle of the night you don't roll over and go back to sleep. You get mad that you're awake and sleepy and you pitch a fit. <br /><br />I give you choices. I let you know transitions are coming. I ignore your fits. I know this is a phase, I just really hope it's a short one because it tires us both out.<br /><br />You are, of course, also impossibly cute. You love to play the "Hello" game, where we sit and say "Hi" and "Hello" back and forth. Throwing a sheet of paper and watching it swoop gives you hysterical giggles. The funniest thing, though, is your reaction when someone burps or farts. Do you wrinkle your nose and run? Nope. Your eyes light up and you draw in a big breathy "Ooooohhh!" , like it wasn't smelly gas but a rare,delicate blossom of rose scented wind. <br /><br />Loving you so much,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-62124472013812763442008-03-26T20:24:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:35:19.645-07:00The Sweetest Thing EverOther children learn to talk almost as a reflex. Words come tumbling our of their mouths like little building blocks that they stack in taller and taller towers as the days go by.<br /><br />You've always preferred to knock towers over.<br /><br />You babble just as much as the next kid, but the sounds aren't blocks that build ideas- they're marbles that roll out of your mouth and around the room. Lots of the tones and inflection that language uses, but none of the meaning.<br /><br />Until lately. Now that you're two, you're starting to get the hang of talking. You've discovered that if you can make the right sound, the grownups will do what you want. It is so fun to hear you talk. Other children say things with an immediacy that implies their thought has just been made audible. You have to put effort into it, and the effect is that it seems you've cast a spell. You don't yell "No!"- you start to cry, then realize you should try the magic word. You stop crying, look up, form your mouth just so and say "Nnnoooo" in a quiet, slow, hopeful way. You've said the incantation and only have to wait for it to work.<br /><br />The sweetest thing you say right now is "Hello". It is the spell that makes people light up with joy and laughter. Every time you say it there are cheers and "Yay"s, and people say "Hello!" right back. It makes me so glad that you share a room with us, because when I'm thinking I wish I wasn't awake I'll hear your "Hello" and smile.<br /><br />It's such a relief to hear your lovely voice saying words,<br />Love,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-56656229367163372652008-03-09T20:55:00.000-07:002008-03-09T21:12:01.883-07:00Too much to postI wish I wrote to you more often. I'm sure someday you'll wish I had too. I do write posts in my head, but getting them out and onto this blog takes time I don't often have.<br /><br />I write posts about how cute you are. How perfect you are. How beautiful you are. I describe the cute things you do.<br /><br />I write posts about how much I worry about you, not because I think you've got problems, but because the world is problematical. <br /><br />I wrote a very heartfelt apology about bringing home a baby without giving you any warning. It's not that I didn't try- almost every day we'd pat my belly and tell you there was a baby in there. You were too young to understand. It was quite a shock to have her show up out of the blue, and I'm sorry to have surprised you like that. <br />Actually, you've handled it quite well. I think you think she's the Best Baby Doll Ever.<br /><br />I write about the strange journey your body is on. It started out so small, it's no wonder you do things on your own schedule and in your own way. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't worry me. It worries me because I love you, and I want things to be easier for you than they sometimes are. It's frustrating for us all that you have so much trouble talking. <br /><br />I write about how much I love you. Still haven't gotten that post right though. I'm waiting for them to invent words grand enough to describe how hard I love you. Maybe you'll be a mom someday, then you'll know how that post was supposed to go.<br /><br />Love you,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-68427638477224157402007-06-12T18:15:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:35:51.274-07:00Super CuteOh boy, have you been laying on the cute lately. You love to play coy, tucking in your chin and peering up at us while you bat your lashes. You laugh yourself silly when you can get someone to play the yes/no game with you- we nod "yes" while you shake your head "no". The stinky foot game will still do in a pinch- you hold up your foot, we sniff and say "Pew! Stinky feet". You also enjoy patting things. If you pat a table and I pat it too it can send you into hysterics. <br /><br />You still won't talk to us. Your Poppy is quite ready for you to get on with it. You do say "Woof" occasionally. We suspect you may also be saying "Dog", but it's hard to tell. Whenever I take food out of the microwave you blow, but you won't say "hot". If you want what I'm eating you'll sidle up to me and grunt "Uh uh uh" in the sweetest grunt possible, but you won't say any words. You stretch out your arms but you won't say "up". You've quit saying "mmmahmmmmah" or "mmmmmmm". <br /><br />You do sing. All day. No words, just precious tuneless songs. You love to dance too- you wave your arms and bounce whenever you hear music. <br /><br />You're becoming quite the brave girl. You clearly enjoy climbing up on things- the coffee table, the couch, a trunk, the stairs- and it's only fun if you stand up when you manage to get yourself up on top. You've also decided the vacuum isn't the boss of you. When you were younger you'd cry at the mere sight of the thing, but now you like to go up and "GAH" it.<br /><br />Oh, the "GAH"ing. When I fish something out of your mouth, you shout "GAH" and either shove or bite me. It's your favorite thing to do when you're feeling petulant. Sometimes you hunt me down to GAH me. I see the glint in your eye and I take your little hand and say "Gentle" and rub your hand on my cheek. Sometimes this works. Sometimes you glare at me. Other times you are just in a foul mood and there's no helping it. I warn you not to GAH me. You GAH me anyway. This is when I put you down and you cry. Then you GAH me from the floor. <br /><br />Love you anyway, love you always,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-15192808782700544742007-04-16T11:50:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:36:08.570-07:00Just for the record...You took a step today all by yourself. You were holding onto your Poppy's knee, and then you wanted to go elsewhere, so you did. This is not to say that you walk wbout the house now. You do, however, take a step now and then, just for fun. Then you laugh and laugh....<br /><br />I love watching you grow up!<br /><br />Love,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-84484633337686780202007-04-13T06:01:00.000-07:002008-09-05T06:37:20.222-07:00Leaps and BoundsToday you decided to do all kinds of things you've never done before. You decided to stack blocks. You decided to nest your stacking cups. You decided that rolling cars and balls to other people is fun. All in the space of a day.<br />And walking! Not that you can do it by yourself yet, but holding on to our hands and goose-stepping around the room is apparently high-larious. You giggle and giggle. If you have somebody to walk towards you laugh harder and walk faster. I can't communicate how cute you are.<br /><br />Love you so much!<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-22293864167016683752007-02-03T08:10:00.000-08:002008-09-05T06:37:01.311-07:00Happy Birthday!In the space of a year you've grown from a tiny peanut to the dynamic baby who's trying to stand up all by herself. A year ago it almost made me cry to look at the little wrinkles on your elbows. You were so tiny! I wanted to fatten you up immediately- inject you with chubbs. Nowadays looking at you still makes me want to cry sometimes, but it's because I'm just so pleased with how much you've grown. <br /><br />You've learned to crawl, to pull up, and to wave "Hi!". Sometimes you hold a blanket up and play peek-a-boo with it. You know who Poppy, Bubba and Doggie are, but you haven't deigned to say their names yet. You prefer to growl like a Monster baby. Rar. Rarrr! The only word you say is "Mmmmmm", which means everything that goes in a mouth. I'm not complaining, it's progress. You love, love!!, to try to stand up in the middle of the room without holding on to anything. The wobbly feeling you have as you try to find your balance makes you laugh and laugh.<br /><br />This week you've decided that laying in my arms to drink your bottle is a pleasure. This is a change from recent weeks when drinking a bottle was Such A Chore, as there were a million more interesting things to do and explore. Apparently you've realized that drinking in my arms is a good way to recharge. Feel the love. Find your zen. Ahhhh.<br /><br />You've got six teeth, which you use to try and bite anyone who crosses you. I took a piece of paper you were chewing out of your mouth. You cried and pulled my hand into your mouth and bit it. You were crying and shaking with the effort. Willful! <br /><br />You've given us our share of worries this year, but you're a tough little git. I don't think you're half the delicate flower we sometimes fret over. I think many of your tears aren't as much about pain as they are anger.<br /><br />Here's hoping your next year is every bit as fruitful as your first.<br />Love,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-44823296293306307102006-12-24T10:11:00.000-08:002006-12-30T10:17:38.664-08:00Hurray!What a big girl you are! This Friday I took you to the physical therapist, more to show you off than to excersize you. You seemed pleased with yourself too, and didn't hesitate to show her how you could crawl (Crawl!) now.<br /><br />More than that even!<br /><br />One day your Daddy sat you in the crib, then sat down on our bed to chat with me. I looked over and there you were, standing in your crib. "Did you put her in there like that?" I asked? "No I did not!" he said. Holy Pete! Crawling and pulling to standing, all in the space of a week. <br /><br />And just to put a cherry on top, you sprouted another tooth.<br /><br />I'm so pleased with what you've pulled off this week. <br /><br />Love,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-27754539571479522582006-11-26T10:37:00.000-08:002006-12-03T10:46:18.507-08:00SickoOh daughter that I love, it's a good thing that you are so, so cute, because you have been a very needy thing this week. You couldn't help it though, and we really don't blame you. You were miserable sick with a cold. Your nose ran. You wouldn't eat. You had a fever. You didn't feel good and you were cutting a tooth on top of all of this. <br /><br />Every four hours or so I would have to give you medicine, but you hate how it tastes, and you would gag (if I was lucky) or barf (if I wasn't). I learned to try and slip it into your bottle, but that meant you had to drink all of the bottle I put it in, and you were really uninterested in eating. <br /><br />Your cold was not put on hold at night, which meant that you still needed loving and holding and rocking almost every hour. Someday you will have children, and they will get sick, and you will find yourself at your wits end. Remember this: It won't last forever. Your kiddo will get better, just like you did. You can make it through any hardship if you know there's an end in sight. <br /><br />Love you all to pieces,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-66342623443865445562006-11-04T18:39:00.000-08:002006-11-19T19:00:41.629-08:00Sweet Pea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/1600/360414/DSCN1311.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/400/334534/DSCN1311.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Can you tell how cute I think your Halloween outfit was?<br /><br />The cutest ever.<br /><br />I don't have any pics of your Brother in a sweet pea suit, even though I was dying to put him in one when he was little. At the time they were more expensive and I had less money. The suit put me in a mood to compare how things were for you and your brother. You play with some of his old baby toys, much like he played with his aunt and uncle's old toys. You get your belly kissed by your Daddy, while his Daddy had only seen him twice by the time he was one. Of course, he had me all to himself for sixish years, which is something you'll never have. He was the healthiest, happiest baby ever, while you find a new way to worry us almost every month. And last but not least, both he and you had 11-ish year old boys loving you all to pieces. <br /><br />Your brother loves you so much. Sometimes he cries because he worries that he won't be a good brother to you someday. I don't even know what he could mean. He tickles you and feeds you even when it bores him to tears. One time he accidentally bumped your head, and he cried harder than you did. I suppose one day you guys will have your moments, but you'll have to take my word for it that he babied you hard when you were tiny.<br /><br />Love you,<br />momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-86858057396771150532006-10-28T18:26:00.000-07:002006-10-30T18:40:02.348-08:00In which my Mom comes to visitThis week has been a doozy. Your grandmother came for a visit, and instead of greeting her with a giggle and a coo you cried at her, which was the first time you'd shown any signs of having stranger anxiety. If she or her husband talked to you from across the room, you'd smile coyly, then bury your face in my chest. And you were <span style="font-style:italic;">always</span> burying your face in <span style="font-style:italic;">my</span> chest because you would not let me put you down. Eventually you warmed up though, and sat in her lap and pulled at her face and anything else nearby. You warmed up to her husband to the point you'd cry if he left the room. Go figure!<br /><br />You went to physical therpay for the first time this week. You cried at the therapist, of course, she being a stranger. Since you wouldn't let her anywhere near you, she got out a baby doll so she could show me the moves. You were so excited. You bounced up and down and stuck out your tongue- sure signs you're pleased. When we go to the hippy mom's club meetings you get excited to see the babies there too, but I won't let you stick your fingers in their eyes or bite their hands. This baby was much more fun.<br /><br />After therapy, Mom and her husband took you to Walmart to pick out a baby doll of your own. You are very pleased with it. I have to admit, though, that your favorite toy of all is The Tag. The tag on the butt of the doll, or the bunny, or the boppy, or your clothes, or the blanket. You loves you some Tag. Ribbons are good too; some of your toys have a ribbon on them and you'll happily suck on those too.<br /><br />Hope you stay this easily amused,<br />Love,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-91011868800872231762006-10-22T18:40:00.000-07:002006-10-30T18:52:03.070-08:00TorticollisThis week has been about your lovely little bobble head. For most of your life your Daddy and I have been thinking it rested less than squarely on your shoulders. We did mention this to your Dr, but he said to wait aand see if it would get better. It got better, but it didn't go away. I did some reading on the internet last week and discovered that you should be getting physical therapy and he should have diagnosed the cause.<br /><br />So.<br /><br />I took you back to the Dr and got him to agree that it would be ok if you went to therapy.<br /><br />We'll be finding another Dr. <br /><br />I should have done the research when I first noticed it, but I trusted him to tell me if it was a big deal. It's not a BIG deal, but attention should have been paid that wasn't. The good news is that this will be resolved before you're old enough to notice. You'll read about my maternal guilt and wonder what the hubbub was about.<br /><br />It's about how much I love you, and how precious you are to me, and how devastated I am that I could cause you even the tiniest it of harm by my inaction. One day maybe you'll have a baby, and then you'll know for yourself.<br /><br />I love you and your crooked head,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-896970339176827862006-10-15T09:50:00.000-07:002006-10-16T10:12:57.938-07:00Zen BabyYou and I went for some Mommy-Daughter time while your brother was at his acting class. You lay tucked up in my lap at the coffee shop drinking a bottle of boob juice. I had a cup of decaf. We sat at the counter because the space in the little shop was precious.<br />Another mommy and her daughter sat next to us while they waited for a table to clear. The daughter said you were the cutest baby, which, of course, you are. The Momma said that you had a calming effect on her. I told her your initials spelled Zen. She said it fit.<br />I agreed with her at that moment. When you are at peace you fill the room with goodness and light. Everyone wants to snuggle with you. Everyone wants to stroke your downy hair.<br />And it doesn't take much to keep you content, just a bottle and my arms. Unfortunately there are times when you can't have those. These are the times the world comes unhinged. You're unhappy and no amount of reasoning will do. <br />At these times everyone is driven to distraction. Your Poppy will wake up out of a sound sleep to see why you're crying, even though he knows I'm taking care of it. Your brother will drop whatever he's doing and run through the house to see what happened to you. All because they can't stand for you to cry. <br />Which is as it should be.<br />Your father and I do worry, though. Which is also as it should be. We worry about how the least little bump makes you scream in the most un-zen-like way. We worry about how long you cry afterward. We worry about how long you avoid something if it gives you grief.<br />My wish for you is that you find your zen. That you keep exploring and reaching out to the world even after it kicks you in the teeth. That you take your sads and your happys together, because you can't have one without the other.<br />I hope that you live life to the fullest.<br /><br />I love you,<br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-44775467868870337192006-10-08T08:47:00.000-07:002006-10-08T09:00:00.305-07:00Discovering Trouble<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/1600/DSCN1176.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/320/DSCN1176.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />You now roll across the floor with ease. I can't leave you alone to play with your toys, because you'd rather roll over to your Poppy's shoes and suck on them. Your loving Brother is frequently called into duty to shepherd you back to your toys. He sits you up in his lap and lets you watch as he plays his gameboy. Sometimes he zerberts your belly. Sometimes he all but ignores you as he reads a book. Sometimes he takes you to his room and finds something interesting for you to play with.<br />I think it won't be long till you crawl. Right now you can reach, roll and squirm your way to things you find interesting. We've started to baby proof the house. You are lightning fast at spilling our coffee or grabbing our eyeglasses- I know there will be trouble when you can create disaster anywhere in the house.<br />And this week your second tooth definately came in. We weren't sure till now if we could feel it or not, since your first tooth was so far ahead of the game. Since we can actually see it now, we're sure.<br /><br />Love you!<br /><br />Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-11894976170376008562006-10-01T09:01:00.000-07:002006-10-08T09:06:32.143-07:00Sitting Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/1600/DSCN1143.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger2/5352/386252314316010/400/DSCN1143.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />I was trying to get you interested in your toys, and after I sat you up I tried backing away to see if you could do it on your own. And look! You could! Your Poppy says you've been doing this for a week. Somehow I didn't know.<br />Such a big girl!ephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3164178958876759272.post-84513923342825456432006-02-01T08:37:00.000-08:002006-10-08T08:42:11.904-07:00To my Daughter:I love you so much. You are so precious to me, and to your family. <br /><br />I wish I could promise to be a perfect mother. The only promise I can keep is to be the best mother I can be.<br /><br />This is a journal about you. It is going to be a record of how you grew up. Other Moms give their children baby books; I hope you forgive me for doing this instead.<br /><br />Love,<br />Your Momephelbahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06699743973126336389noreply@blogger.com