Friday, August 29, 2014

Ingrid: almost 1 // small snippets, random thoughts

I'm already kicking myself over not writing more about the last almost year. It's true, all of it, what they say about it going so fast, and some things are as clear as a bell but others are just...hazy. There's so much more to say about that, but for now, I'm skipping ahead to the goods about the baby (who I can't really call a baby much longer):

The term "happy" can be vague: there are so many different kinds of happy, aren't there? But if I had to choose a word to sum this kid up, that would be just it. I don't know how we hit this baby jackpot, and I can only hope we'll be so lucky the next time around (if there is a next time/Lord-willing). She wakes up with a smile so wide that her face can't contain it, the kind of smile that seems like it could grow legs and leap right off, and she stays that way for most of the day.

blurry, but evidence nonetheless
She sleeps pretty well at night now, sometimes still up once, but that's manageable. Naps are...inconsistent as far as time and spacing, but for the most part just fine—she gets her sleep in one way or another, and we're in the usually 2 but sometimes just 1 nap a day place, so we just go with it. We do guard her early bedtime pretty closely (usually between 6:30 and 7), which (I think) really helps with the whole happy baby thing.

Sometimes when we go to get her out of her crib, she goes crazy with excitement, half-panting/grunting and sprint-crawling (that's a word) around her crib like there's a bee in her diaper. So that's always good for a chuckle, along with a muttering of "wild animal" under my breath, even if it is at 4:30 a.m.

Speaking of wild animals, when we say "tiger baby" (or sometimes, other iterations: "danger baby"/"scary baby"), we get a cross between a breathy roar and a growl. If that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

Instead of being good parents and teaching her baby sign language, we've let her make up her own (see wild animal reference above). When she's hungry (or often if she's watching us eat something), she'll stick her tongue out repeatedly, watching us intently the whole time and sometimes embellishing with lip smacks, waiting for a bite or sip. I know. It's sort of ridiculous, and we might regret not nipping it in the bud, but we find it too hilarious to try to stop.

After some initial confusion, she's gotten down waving. For the most part, anyway. The occasion is still somewhat misplaced at times, but waving to the dog for no reason just earns extra cute points in my book.
For the past couple of months, J plays a jazzy, bluesy version of "You are my Sunshine," and they dance, complete with dips, swirls, and sometimes the older sister on his other hip. She finds this so delightful, and it's so flipping sweet that I puddle into a crazy emotional mother sap, stopping whatever I'm doing just to watch. It never gets old.

Crawling is the preferred mode of transport these days, though her push along walker is a close second when the mood strikes her. It plays music, which makes us dance, and she has just figured out that that's something she can be a part of too, so she bobs up and down. No steps yet, but sometimes she stands on her own, and she cruises along all of the furniture. Oh, and crawling up the stairs is now at the top of her list of favorite pastimes (just edging out chasing the dog), which gets me all kinds of nervous and mom-ish, keeping both hands on her back as I follow up right behind her, trying not to even blink, but I swear, every time she does it it's like she's peaking a mountain. I seriously think she gets an adrenaline rush.

My girl finally decided to jump on board the avocado train, which has been a relief, because I wasn't really sure about a kid who doesn't like avocados. Kidding. But nothing (well, except maybe popsicles) holds a candle to cheese. Cheddar, colby, havarti, babybel. Cold, melted, room temp cheese stick in a diaper bag (within reason), she's serious about all of it.

I've heard quite a few "mamas" lately, but still, mostly repeating it back to me when I say it instead of on her own accord. No matter; it still sounds just right.

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