Sunday, September 30, 2012

Zia:Her eleventh month: she turns one!



Oy. I just wrote a whole post and my phone ate it. I hate to skimp on a birthday post but I'm not feeling the bloggy love at the moment ;)  Daddy, I'll do my best...



Z's bday was lovely and chill. She was clueless, of course, but P did his best to initiate her into the beauty that is bdays :). Screeching "Happy birthday!!!" when she first opened her eyes, singing the birthday song all. day. long (he hates this when aimed at him.  Z, however, luuuuved it, dancing and clapping each and every time.). He even gifted her a Lego creation "made from the big, non-chokeables, Mama." This was, on second thought, deemed way too good of a gift and traded for a more quickly constructed tower. Hey, it's the thought that counts?

I spent more of the day in my head than usual. The kids typically keep me on my toes, out of my head and in the "now," but celebrating a birth seemed like a good time to take a break from my wannabe zen training ;).

I pictured different moments during her birth. It was such an amazing journey. I tried to remember what those first few weeks were like. We also watched a couple of videos from around P's first birthday. That period was shrouded in Superman's cancer diagnosis and surgery. So I gave up more than my usual daily thanks. Thanks that I still have a Superman. Thanks that we could have another baby. Thanks for this baby. Thanks that this life is so good at this point.



We celebrated with spaghetti and meatballs alongside Seth and Alicia. Dessert gave a nod to Z's favorite food, the Apple. I made apple and cinnamon stuffed biscuits and whipped some cream for on top. There was only a scant teaspoon of maple syrup in the whole batch, but Z was Thrilled. While the candle confused her, the food did not.  She hoisted her plate up and actually licked it clean;).



We gave her underwear. Actually, we gave it to her a couple weeks before her birthday even. P was appalled. I felt fabulously practical. Until, that is, Aunt Alicia presented Little Miss with a HandMade doll. As in, Handmade BY Aunt Alicia. With little red Z inspired shoes and tutu and even her name embroidered on her adorable floral butt. This doll is divine. I'm thinking I'll fuck practicality next year ;)



Z at a year? I will remember her stomping on her short legs, lunging forward with her finger pointing, smiling out a "What's that? What's that? what's that?!?!!" If the answer isn't quick enough, she grabs my face and, pointing, says, "What's THIS?!?!". Its the best WTF ever ;)



She loves backyard chickens and dancing and peek-a-boo and (still, sigh) putting things into her mouth (but less so;). She loves music and hopping and books and playing chase.




She loves to get into her Highchair for meals. And smear her food everywhere, tasting it, actually eating it occasionally. She loves to then drop and fling it to the ground and suddenly start shrieking, ready to get down, like, yesterday, lady.  I rush to warm a rag and clean the food that clings to her every crevasse (she defies diapers AND bibs so we strip her for food:) and this, apparently, takes. too. long.  But a cold rag seems cruel.  Every meal, same drama.  I finally asked my mother what the heck we had done with P, as I don't remember such dinner-time drama.   She sweetly reminded me that P didn't sit to eat until he was 5.  Before that we shoved spoonfuls at him as he raced past us.  He felt feeding himself a cruel and unloved way to live.  Z is entirely insulted if her food is not from her own fat fingers.  Such opposites :)











She loves P's play kitchen.  I caught her pretending to wash her hands in the small sink the other night.  Turning it "on," rubbing her hands under the little wooden faucet.  She seems so little for pretend play.  She seems so little for everything.  But, she is a year now :)





She loves outside.  She stands at (under) the window, climbing the frame with her tippy toes, trying to peek out, screeching "Owwwsye!  Owwwsye!" and signing "want."  She loves putting her patent red leather (picked by her brother) shoes on.  (The practical brown suede ones I picked? Not so much.)


She loves the park.  And the playground.  And the kids playing on the playground.  She loves the whole experience, watching, chasing, swinging, climbing, sliding.  (Come to find out?  E started sending her down the slide By Herself months ago.  Like, at 7-8 months.  Granted, she was walking then, but she was tiny.  Other parents, myself included, looked on in horror.  She glides down, happy as a lark.)



She loves music and dancing.  It soothes her sooo well.  She loves to carry the iPhone around, playing music when she is ready for bed and we are (bad parents) not quite...  She loves to be sung to, to be held and swayed and sung to.  She loves to listen to loud music and dance and hop with P.  She grows tired and then she reaches for me and wants me to dance with her in my arms.  She loves listening to Seth and Superman play the guitar or the piano.




She loves her Aunt and Uncle.  She loves seeing them, it makes her smile So Big.  She loves getting into their flat and rolling on their fuzzy rug, rubbing her baby buddha belly over the softness.

She loves FaceTime with my mother.  She grabs the phone and puts it to her head "hey yare" (that's hey there;) she says over and over.  Then she signs want and points to the phone, saying hey yare.  My mom connects and Z just smiiiiiiles.

She loves her brother.  Most of the time ;)  She loves all of the amazing stuff he does.  She loves when he shares so sweetly with her (it happens, really;).  When he wrestles her on the bed.  When he looks at her while they are eating and Just Laughs.  When they wake up together.  When they chase each other.



She loves her Papa.  Seeing him in bed on a weekend morning is infinitely funny to her, because he is so rarely there.  She loves (usually;) going to the playground with him.  She loves eating his cottage cheese and watching him (with some concern) do Froggy.

And she loves me :)  Its the sweetest damn thing.  She hugs and kisses me.  And when she comes home from the playground, its always been almost too long for her.  So she stomps across the floor, bitching the whole way, arms out and runs to positively fling herself into my arms.  She wants to nurse, to cuddle to talk to me.


Its freakin amazing how much a baby grows in the first year.  And how much we have all grown to love this baby.  Hm.  Guess I should make that "toddler."  Wow.



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