Letters to Emmeline : Eighteen Months

May 12 to June 12, 2015

Emmeline,

Hey, you, toddler who is now officially one and a half. And who will be two in SIX MONTHS. I don't want to think about that for many reasons, including because when you turn two it will be a) December and b) cold as heck and c) just 13 days away from Christmas.

You are such a little riot. You're hilarious. And such a spitfire. SUCH a spitfire. Like, girl, you are full of opinions and attitude up the wazoo. It's pretty amazing to see from such a tiny person who doesn't talk. You know what you want, you make it VERY clear even without words, and lord help us all if you don't get it. The squeals that you emit could shatter glass and you will drop to the floor in a tantrum in half a second flat.

On the other hand, as long as things are going your way, you're just pure sunshine. Your giggles and smiles could turn around the worst day. And there is so much that makes you smile.  The other day, you and your sister were swinging and she started kicking her legs so you started kicking your legs and you both just started giggling and giggling and giggling and it was the happiest sound in the world.

I've mentioned it before, but you are just determined to do absolutely everything that we do. When I sweep, you want to hold the dustpan. When I do dishes, you want to put in the detergent and take the dishes out and put the dishes in. When I am putting laundry in the basket, you bring me clothes. If Carys rides her bike, you want to ride her bike. Any activity we do, you want to be a part of as well.  I love it but let's be real, it makes me sad at the same time - you're my baby! You aren't supposed to be doing these big kid things yet!

You just started to really love to play dress up, and you're always waltzing out of the playroom with a wig or a hat or a skirt on. You're even starting to have an opinion about what clothes I put on you, and I'm kind of mourning the loss of my ability to dress a kid from head to toe in whatever outfit I pick out.

There are so many hilarious, adorable things that you do each day and I love discovering new talents and abilities that you've gained. You love to tickle people, and to have your toes tickled. You're learning more and more body parts. You heard me say "Elmo" and you grabbed your elbows, you brilliant girl. You climb up and go down the spiral slide at the park for thirty solid minutes (then beg to go on the swings for another thirty). You found one of Carys's Calico Critter babies - with a cradle - and you carry it around and say "shhh, shhh." Any time you see a child in a stroller, you yell "bah bah!", even if they're bigger than you are.

We're not talking about sleep because the second I mention it, it gets worse. So we'll just say it's better. Not perfect, but better. MUCH better. Thank you, lord.

While you ARE sleeping, you're not, um, eating. Kind of an important habit. I'm pretty sure you subsist on crackers, bread, and bananas, with an occasional bite of meat. You won't eat a vegetable any other fruit to save your life (like literally, if you were stranded on a desert island with carrots and blueberries, you'd starve). You do enjoy cheerios off the floor as I'm sweeping them up. Delightful.

You absolutely love to read books, especially any with flaps. We read ten books in a row before I had to stop and force you to take a nap because you were falling asleep in my arms, but you still wanted to read. more. books! (Which you told me by signing "more, more, more!" and then my heart melted into a giant puddle.)

You're still nursing. I don't see that stopping anytime soon, but I'm ready the second you are. It's been a long four and a half years of being pregnant or nursing with only a one or two month break between the two. I'm not going to force it on you yet, but feel free to cut back to like twice a day instead of 100 times a day any time. Except, see above, I'm worried you'd starve if I stopped.

You started going to daycare at Carys's "big kid" (as we call it) daycare. I'm not sure yet how it's going, but it's so fun seeing Carys get to walk you into your room. She loves giving you a hug and a kiss and often tells me about how much she loves seeing you throughout the day - although that cuts both ways, because your teachers have said that you love seeing her, too, except then you cry when you can't stay with her. Break my heart, kiddo!

You had an allergy appointment at the beginning of June in response to a rash of allergic reactions you had back in April and May. You got terrible hives, and I have no idea what caused them. It took three months to get you into this allergy specialist, and they agreed it was hives and decided to do a blood test to see if they could find anything that might be causing the reactions. I'm waiting on the call and am just hoping it's nothing severe (and the blood test might not show anything - false negatives aren't uncommon with this blood test). So we'll see what happens there, and fingers crossed it's nothing too severe.

We did the Summer Arts Festival, the Children's Museums, and playdates. We went to the Spring/Summer festival at Carys's school, where you bounced on a bounce house for most of the time and ate a literal ton of cotton candy. The three of us plus Nana went to Browneville, Nebraska, for a flea market billed as the world's largest, where you adopted a bag of kettle corn and cuddled it like a doll. We babysat my parent's dog, Toby, and you couldn't have been more excited about having a dog around. We're still doing swim class, and every class you do better and try to swim away from me more. We've been taking walks up to the park almost daily, and walking to the local ice cream parlor weekly.

You give the absolute BEST hugs in the entire world and I can't get enough of them. I would like one million of them through the end of time, please.

I love you, little girl. Who is getting bigger and I'm kind of not okay with this development.

Love,
Mama

Letters to Emmy : Twelve Months : One Year

November 12 to December 12, 2014

Dear, dear Emmeline:

Well, no matter how much I tried to stop it, time kept marching on and you turned one. I'm in serious mourning that you, who is most likely my last baby, isn't a baby. I have no more babies. And I'm not going to lie, it's pretty heartbreaking.

But toddler Emmeline is so hilarious that you're making up for it and then some. You make me smile all day long (ok, the smile breaks when you decide that the only acceptable place for you is on my hip and that doesn't quite work because I'm trying to cook dinner and it's difficult to do so with half your body occupied by a 22-pound ball of grabbing hands). But you're so, so, so funny. Early in the morning, when it's just me and you lounging in the dark, you pop up with the biggest, cheesiest smile. Your smile is just everything. Scrunched up, wrinkled nose, all your teeth showing, crescent-moon eyes, and suddenly the world is perfect.

(THIS IS THE SMILE I LOVE IT BRB HEART BURSTING)

You are walking everywhere. I haven't seen you crawl in weeks. You're starting to pick up some speed and test out running. Not very successfully, but you're trying! And not only are you walking everywhere, but you ONLY WANT TO WALK GODDAMN IT PUT ME DOWN WOMAN. If I'm holding you and you want to walk, you turn into a limp, squirmy noodle (I realize that you can't be limp and squirmy at the same time yet you manage) until you have forced your way from my arms. And you don't want to necessarily go where we are going. You really just want to explore on your own. I'm not sure what you're trying to see, but by golly, you're determined to get there.

Your favorite toys at the moment are: I don't know. You're into everything. Anything your sister is playing with, for sure. The race car track you got for your birthday. The baby doll your great-grandma gave you. The musical activity center. Anything with a thousand tiny pieces you can alternately put in your mouth and sprinkle generously around the house. Wipes containers. Wipes themselves. Trash. (The trash can permanently lives on the kitchen counter at the moment, because as often as you are taking trash OUT of the can, you're putting actual not-trash INTO the trash can. I mean, thanks for cleaning up, but we do actually need that puzzle piece). Puzzles - which you can't do yet, but you totally think you can. OH. And how can I forget the freaking golf club?!? Dad got Carys a golf club last year and you carry that darn thing around everywhere and throw a huge fit when we take it out of your hands. It's as tall as you are (even though it's still kid-sized) and fairly heavy (it's metal) but you insist on carrying it all around the house. I'd be okay with you being the next Tigress Woods minus the whole infidelity scandal. You love babbling into a microphone and listening to your voice.

You're tall and starting to average out for weight, just like your big sister did when she started walking. You're 22 pounds (80th percentile) and 31 inches tall (90th percentile) with a giant noggin (18.5 inches - 98th percentile!). Your hair is starting to curl at the tips as it gets longer and I can't wait to see what it does as it grows. Your eyes are a little darker, but still blue. For now! Your dimples are amazing. You have eight teeth (the eighth popped out right before your birthday).

 You are still mostly just babbling - I don't know that you've said any words specifically about an item or person, but sometimes I still think you're saying "book" and "mama." You recently started saying "duck!" all the time but you have no idea what that means - it must just be fun sounds to say.

We actually found out at your one-year appointment that one of your ears is filled with fluid and you don't appear to be hearing out of it at all. (Sad trombone) Luckily, it should be easily treatable with tubes - but it will be at least a month before that happens. In the meantime, we're trying to focus on talking into your right ear and talking more loudly. The doctor believes it's linked to late babbling and not talking (not that you were actually LATE - just on the later side of normal), so I wouldn't be surprised to see a huge language explosion once that is cleared up. Plus, your sister does all the talking for you (does she ever shut up?!?!) so really, you're probably just biding your time until you have something really important to say.

(There's that smile again. Man alive, the smile is everything.)

You aren't a big eater. But when you do want to eat, you want to eat exactly what we're eating, and exactly how we're eating it - for instance, I gave you sauce-less noodles the other day, but you wanted noodles WITH sauce, and on a fork, thank you very much. What are you, some kind of BABY? I mean, you are, because you can't use a fork (though you're trying hard). But you ended up eating pretty much all my noodles. For someone who can't talk, you can sure get your point across well.

You sign "milk" and are starting to sign "all done." We're still working on some other signs, but I'm not as diligent about them as I was with your big sister. Second child syndrome. I'm so sorry. I don't have three hours a day to drill you with flashcards. (Ok, I didn't do that with her either, but I definitely had more time to focus!) Although you're probably thinking, "Um, mom, hello, read what you wrote about my hearing up there? Signs might be a good thing??" 

You still nurse throughout the day, and we're starting to drop bottles in favor of sippy cups. You can drink from a straw, which totally shocked me, because I had no idea you could until you came and took a drink of my lemonade when I wasn't paying attention. 

You've started dancing - turning on one of your musical toys and waving your arms and bopping to the beat (ok, not to the beat - you appear to have picked up my lack of rhythm). You also have started to purposefully make jokes - waggling your head like crazy and then looking at me and then laughing uproariously because seriously, mom, WHO DOES THAT? Did you see that crazy head waggle? You also love starting to give me something and then quickly pulling it away...and, of course, laughing your big cloth-diapered booty off at yourself. And putting your finger in my nose or mouth or eyeball and then, again, laughing at yourself for being so crazy and probably (in your mind) the first toddler to ever think of putting a finger THERE.

You love reading books - you make a beeline for them. You love tearing them up, but you love reading them, too. You pick up a book, then back yourself up until you're sitting in my lap and make me read it - sometimes over and over and over. You love flipping back to earlier pages and starting the book over again at that point. You use your little pointer finger to point out everything on the page (and in life - that little finger is always pointing at something!).

Your newest thing is squeezing into tiny little nooks and crannies. There's a space at my mom and dad's house between the TV console and the bookshelf that is exactly one Emmeline-width wide and you squeeze yourself into it and then just stand there happily. When we were looking at a museum the other day, you found a small, dark square space and sat down in it and then just wanted to hang out there for a while. You love sitting in boxes that barely contain you. Are you a cat?

(And yes, sigh, you're still not sleeping through the night but it is SO MUCH BETTER thanks to your dad going in and giving you your paci back - you're down to 1-2 wakeups at night KNOCK ON SOME MOTHER FLIPPING WOOD and it's just a relief to not be up 8 times a night anymore! You go to bed around 8:30, wake up around 7:30, and take two usually hour-long naps a day around 10 and 3.)

You love to "brush" your hair and "talk" on the phone and "type" on the computer and really, you just so desperately want to be doing what we are doing. It's so, so adorable and so, so endearing but SLOW YOUR ROLL KID and just let me enjoy you being a baby for a little bit longer, okay? This year has gone way too fast, and I've already forgotten what it felt like to hold tiny, 9 pound Emmeline close to my chest and breathe in her newborn scent. I don't remember it. And that kind of totally makes me want to cry. I am just completely indignant that they haven't invented a way to bottle that shit up.

Man, Emmeline, I just love you. We all do. You're such an integral part of our family. I already can't wait to get home and scoop you up and love on you and blow bubbles onto your neck and listen to my favorite toddler giggles.

Love, 

Mama

P.S. I almost forgot the popping that you started doing with your mouth - filling your cheeks with air and making popping noises with your lips and it's just so darn cute. Did I mention how much I love you??

Letters to Emmy : Eleven Months

October 12 to November 12, 2014

Dear Emmeline,

You are eleven months old, and I'm woefully unprepared, in every way. I've barely started planning your birthday party, I have no idea what we're going to eat or what you're going to wear and I have only the barest idea of a theme. I'm not ready to leave your infant-hood behind. I'm not ready to have a toddler instead of a baby.

Because you're definitely a toddler now. Because you're walking. Because you insist on growing up no matter how much I wish to freeze time.

Yes, you're taking five or seven or ten steps regularly now. You're still crawling more than you walk, but the ratio changes every day and I know you'll be a full-on walker shortly. While I do miss your baby-ness, I absolutely love the smile of pride that breaks out across your face and the delighted laughter that comes whenever you sucessfully walk.

You've also added "mama" and "dada" to your babbling, so now you babble with "mama," "dada," and "baba." You seem to say "mama" more when I'm around, but I'm not ready to call that your first word yet. I also think you're trying to say "book," because you'll go from babbling, "mamamamamamama" to "ba!" when I pull out a book.

You also deliberately sign "milk" now and it's so cute I can barely handle it. You put your chubby fist up and squeeze your hand and then are positively elated when you get milk (nursing) in return.

You've also started throwing tantrums, which is as hilarious as it is sad as it is frustrating. You really get into them too - in your high chair, you'll rock your whole body forward and back violently, which makes the high chair start scooting across the floor, which makes you forget why you were made and start laughing.

This has never happened before or since - you fell asleep in your high chair!

You're a great eater - last night we had peppery chicken and asparagus with a cream sauce over spaghetti squash and you ate more than your big sister. And you love to drink out of a sippy cup. (You still put non-food items in your mouth, constantly. But not to swallow them - you just like chewing them and holding them in your mouth. You're gonna be a gum chewer.)

We took you and your sister to the pumpkin patch, and you loved looking at everything and taking it all in. You loved sitting on the bouncer and touching the pumpkins and watching the dog show.

You also had your first taste of ice cream - really of anything sweet and sugary like that - and you immediately freaked out and wanted to eat it all and threw a legitimate fit when I took it away.

I also took you guys to the zoo a couple times, and you played with the goats, and you loved it...until one jumped over you and knocked you flat on your back.

Still not sleeping through the night. Your dad is off work for a few weeks now, so we're going to dive into sleep training at some point. Or so I keep telling myself. It needs to happen; it's just so emotionally hard to do, even though I know you're okay.

Just before Halloween you, your sister, and I took a bus trip out to Dubuque to visit your Nana. You did really well (read: you slept most of the time) until the very last twenty minutes when you suddenly spit up everything in your stomach all over youself and the car seat. I felt awful for you, because there wasn't much I could do at the moment. We spent a fun week in Dubuque, and you seemed fine (minus a few more spitting up incidents here and there) until you suddenly got a 103 degree fever and started rapidly breathing really shallowly. I took you to the ER and you were diagnosed with a bladder infection. Two (TWO!!) big shots of antibiotics later, plus oral antibiotics at home, and you were feeling better within a few hours - just as the ER doctor predicted you would. Even with being sick, you had a ton of fun with Nana. We went to the park, we went to a Halloween parade (which you watched with rapt attention), we went trick-or-treating on a boat (at the Missisippi River Museum and Aquarium), went to a natutre center (which you loved), and we read so. many. books.

All of these pictures are from Dubuque.

Sleeping at the ER. :(

Halloween Parade.

At the nature center.

For actual Halloween, you were a Cabbage Patch doll, and I'm sorry to say you didn't really get to experience any of the "real" Halloween events, because you fell asleep really early and slept through it all. But we did take you around to show you off to the great-grandparents.

You love trying to steal my phone, you love love love love love to "read" books and to be read to, you love playing in sand, you love anything and everything your sister has (especially her clip dolls), you love playing musical instruments, and you love knocking everything off the shelves at the end of the kitchen counter. You really love that; you do it like a hundred times a day.

And we love you, baby girl. (You're still a baby for another month!!!) This morning, your sister whispered to you, "Emmeline, I missed you so much when you were in mommy's tummy and not born yet."  You were so meant to be here.

One morning, Carys went into your crib when you first woke up to keep you company 

and I came in to find her reading to you.

I'm so grateful that you're in our lives.

Love,
Mama