1 Year Old

Dear Vivian--

A few weeks ago you turned 1. Well, 11 days ago, actually. You are definitely a second child, as it has taken me this long to take the time to put my thoughts about you into writing. (Although, before the blog, I never wrote anything about either one of you, and Isaac was almost 2 before I started the blog. So really, you are the winner here. I may be 11 days late, but it's better than never. Just ask your brother.)

Truthfully, there is a reason it has taken so long. We have been having some awfully eventful days around here lately. Your birthday was on a Saturday. Father's Day was Sunday, and your brother's surgery was Monday. We have all been pre-occupied with worry about your brother, and for letting that color your 1st birthday experience, I am sorry.

We did have a party for you, though, and everybody had a great time. You made out like a bandit, as any 1 year old should. And you loved your cake.

















So it's not like we failed you altogether.

Actually, you've got it pretty good as a 1 year old. You have a built in play-mate--your brother--and you generally enjoy him, whether he is stepping on your back or ripping toys out of your hands or what.

Recently, we went to the doctor, and two great things happened: First, you have made it onto the charts for the first time since you were a newborn. Second, you still have an ear infection, so you didn't get any shots!

Some more interesting news: you now have teeth. Well, not teeth exactly, since the casual observer would still claim you to be toothless. However, if I look closely at--or better yet, feel--your front bottom gums, there are definitely some sharp white things popping through. We may have to move on to real table food once those chompers show up for real. So far you have rejected cheerios, cantaloupe, and pineapple, though you seem to love pretzel sticks, especially if they are stale.

You are 1 now, so every time I meet someone in the market, or on the street, they say, "Oh, she's 1? Is she walking?" And I say . . ."No." Yeah, you don't seem to have much interest in that particular milestone. Though to be honest, you haven't shown an interest in making any milestone on time. You walk along the furniture, and pull up on anything handy (including Mommy's sweatpants. Remember, sweetie--elastic waistbands do not make for sturdy support). But you don't stand on your own, and when I grab your hands to walk you along, you immediately sit down. I don't mind, though--at barely 18 lbs, carrying you is no big strain.

You are still a pretty mellow girl, and I am continually amazed by your ability to entertain yourself. You can sit in the playroom, alone, for 30 minutes at a time, happily. And even better news? You have shown your brother this trick, and he is learning it! Yesterday the two of you played in the playroom for 40 MINUTES together, happily, while I was blogging. I kept peeking out at you, sure that your brother had smothered you, or left you for dead while he explored the back yard, but instead the two of you were sitting together by the stack of books, or a few minutes later, over by the toy chest, having a wonderful time. I really wanted to take a photo, but I knew if either one of you saw me, the spell would be broken and you'd both start clamoring for me.

But this mellowness seems to be just one piece of you, because you also have an adventurous side. This first manifested itself when you climbed out of the highchair and fell 3 feet to the floor. Since then, you have tried climbing out of the grocery cart, into and out of the slippery bathtub, off Mommy and Daddy's bed, and off the changing table. For a girl so opposed to walking, you definitely like the climbing gig. Be careful, Viv. Remember you are the second child, so Mommy is more apt to be blogging than watching you vigilantly. And these are dangerous spots to climb.

Sometimes when you are crawling around while your father, Isaac and I wander from room to room, you will lay your head down on the hardwood floor with a sigh, as if to say" "Well, it's just too much. I can't go an inch further." Or sometimes you lay your head down on the carpet and smile happily, as if to say "Ah, now this is comfortable!" Occasionally, you will roll around on the carpet like a drunk, giggling merrily, and I just have to laugh with you, though I have no idea what you find so wonderful about cheap nylon fibers.

One day, when your brother has figured out that when you get in bed, you are supposed to close your eyes and go to sleep (you figured this out long ago), then we will move you back into your crib, currently lying empty in the room with Isaac. Until then, you are relegated to the pack n' play in the office--where, in fact, you are sleeping soundly this very moment, your breath steady and soft. I will miss you sleeping beside me as I type furiously at the keyboard, but I suppose you would appreciate a regular mattress, and a room and space to call your own.

Congratulations on surviving your first year, Vivian. We all love you to pieces, and so much more than we did last year at this time. (Not to worry, last year at this time we loved you to pieces, too; we just had no idea how this love would grow and grow, as fast as you do.)

Love,
Mama


P.S. That's MA-MA. Not daddadadbwah, or diggadiggadiggaba. Time for some words, child. Mimicking Isaac sing Old MacDonald today was pretty good, but I'm betting you won't be able to do it again tomorrow.