We can't call you Chilly Millie anymore. So sad. Chilly Millie has officially left the building. And possibly the Earth. This is because you've had such a rough 2012, that I think it may have permanently altered your "chill" temperment. And turned it into a "OMG! MOMMY NEEDS TO HOLD ME 24 HOURS A DAY OR I'M GONNA CRY! SCREW IT, I'M GONNA CRY ANYWAY" temperment.
So, that's been fun.
It's been a rough month for you again... mostly because you came down with a sinus infection and had to make another trip to the doctor's office. Have I mentioned how much you love the doctor? No? Well, when the doctor walks into the room, it's like I have asked you to remove your eyeballs with a rusty spoon. When we both know you prefer the plastic spoon with the monkey on it... which is your sisters favorite as well... which causes her face to melt off every time I make the mistake of letting her see me feed you with it.
So... yea. Not a fan of the doctor. Or nurse for that matter. Or anything resembling a doctor, a nurse a doctor's office or the hospital. And I feel so bad because I feel like I did that to you. I feel like you were just this happy-go-lucky baby... who was damaged during the RSV sitch when you ended up getting an IV at the hospital. I will always feel terrible for putting you through that.
In the last months, you have started to really walk like you know what you're doing. And you LOVE it. You finally get to go room-to-room like your sissy and are starting to figure out your place in this world. Usually, that's directly under Mommy or Daddy's feet. And sometimes it's with your feet right in Hazel's face. Which is what we call payback for her putting her feet on your face when you were an infant and unable to defend yourself. Yea... Mommy just laughs because we all know what they say about paybacks, right? They're swampy and have 10 toes.
But, I digress. You are getting around quite well these days and I knew that the time had come to introduce you to shoes because you were destroying all of your socks with all the walking you were doing at day care. And also? We were losing a lot of socks at day care because you refuse to keep your socks on. So, the first time I tried to put shoes on you, I think you thought your feet were on fire. The fit you threw would have been funny... if it hadn't been so frustrating and heartbreaking. (By the way, you have discovered how to cry in such a way that Mommy thinks that your heart? Really breaking. Which makes my heart break. In short, you've figured out my weakness. Awesome.) The next day, I tried again... and you were surprisingly less combative about it. It was as if you had resigned yourself to the inevitable. But really, I think you figured out that Hazel wears shoes and that's cool. And putting on shoes means that you get to sit on my lap a little longer. But you were very happy at the end of the day when I took them off. And that's when I discovered that the size 5's were a bit tight for you.
So, yes... at 1 year old, you are now wearing size 6 shoes. Or... should be wearing size 6. But because I couldn't find the size 6 in the massive bag of hand-me-down shoes from Hazel and our many friends with little girls older than you, I figured I would get some use out of the 6.5 size shoes that your sister grew out of in 2 weeks. You know... really get my $20 worth out of them. So, you're walking around in size 6.5 shoes... and you lurve them. You sound like a giant coming down the hallway in them because you haven't quite figured out how to not walk bow-legged and bend your knees. All we hear is thump, thump, thump... CRASH. Then thump, thump, thump again. Yep... you lurve you some shoes.
You've had some trouble sleeping at night as of late. Not sure what it is but you'll often wake up crying and the only thing... THE ONLY THING... that calms you down is a bottle of warm milk. And... yea, you're 12 months old. And you have never missed a meal. You don't need to nurse a warm one in the middle of the night. But the problem is... your cries. They are just soooo sad. And I always end up going into your room on the off chance that you have a dirty diaper (you don't) or you've got a leg stuck in the crib (you haven't). And as soon as I go in there, you freak out and try to crawl out of my arms until I get a bottle from your Daddy... who is also up thanks to your crying. I'm serious... there is no calming you down without a bottle. We'd have better luck if we just let you cry it out... but it's been hard for me to let my "Chilly Millie" cry it out. Remember, at one point you never asked for much... REMEMBER THOSE DAYS?
So, now that you're the big 01, Mommy has decided to show you a little tough love. Last night you woke up crying and I didn't go in to check on you, and you eventually went back to sleep. And, we are slowly phasing out bottles. Let's face it, you've got a thing for your bottle. You love your bottle. Way more than your sister ever did. In fact, when I get you out of the crib in the morning, and put a sippy with milk in front of you, you scream and scream and then toddle into your room where the bottle from last night - that still had milk in it - is and you point to it as if to say: THIS. THIS IS WHAT I WANT, MOMMY. GIVE. IT. TO. ME.
As your Mommy, I'm constantly learning and growing and trying to figure out how to outsmart you.... and trying to figure out what's the best thing you need. And after that little incident, I decided that if you are old enough to indicate that you want your bottle of milk rather than a sippy of milk... NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING UNREASONABLE. AND KIND OF BRATTY. So we're about a week out of Mommy getting rid of all bottles. I am doing this because I know at day care? You totally use the sippy. It's only when you come home that you insist on the bottle. Listen... you've got your blankie that you must have at all times. You don't also get to have a bottle. I'm sorry kiddo. I don't make the rules. Well, actually I do... it's just an unfortunate rule for you, that's all.
You still love playing with your sissy. And when she is playing with you and interacting with you, you are the happiest girl on the planet. At least until she plays just a bit too rough and you end up with a boo-boo. Which happens often, but not as often as one would think... because, let's face it, you're a bit of a bruiser. You can take a hit. And dish it out. Life should be interesting in our house for the next 16 years or so.
I don't know what's gotten into you about Tubby Time, but you are not having any of it as of late. You scream the entire time in the tubby and try to crawl out. I suspect that it's because a month ago you got a faceful of water when you flipped on to your tummy while playing in the tub and it freaked you out. I was right there so there was no danger of you drowning, but you have not forgotten it. Oh... and also, every time I attempt to wash your hair, I believe you have flashbacks to the "near drowning" as it will soon become known... once you're able to talk and turn me into CPS. But seriously, baby girl... I gotta wash that hair! It's starting to stink! So, the new rule is Tubby Time every night (every other night? three times a week? monthly???) just to get you used to it. I know, I know... I'm about to make myself miserable every night for the next few months... but practice makes perfect, right?
But tubby time is nothing compared to diaper change or clothes change time. Holy mother of all that is holy, baby girl... you are worse than shoving an octopus into a wet paper bag. You cry the entire time and flip from back to front and kick me in my special mommy parts. DAILY. And you know what? You've been like this from day one. I keep waiting for you to grow out of this stage... but I now think it will never happen. I keep hoping you'll watch your older sissy get her diaper or clothes changed and notice how much easier it is on her and how much happier she is. But when you do watch her cooperate with Mommy... I see something of a glint of mischief in your eye. And I know that this... this can't be good.
I miss your giggles and smiles, baby girl. You are so focused on being held by me all the time that when I put you down to give my arms a break, or to pull your sister out from inside the dishwasher or the water tank of the toilet, you start screaming and crying and making such a fuss that I can't believe I ever thought you were gonna be my "easy" baby.
Dude... we soooo have to get you learning sign language. IT'S A MUST.
But through all of it, the ups, the downs, the walking, the illness, the tubby time madness... I still love you more than anything.
And I can't believe it's already been a year.
Love,
Mama
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