There are so many things that I want to tell you right now that I'm going to have to make a list. Lists are very important to me and it's likely that as you grow older you will realize this when you find them lying all around. Like my keys. If you know where those are right now, can you please bring them to me? Or maybe it's not an issue anymore. Maybe now that you're bigger and reading these letters, I've become organized! Also taller! A mom can dream...
So on to the list of things I want to tell you:
1. Despite the unhappy reason for our trips to Chicago, I was really glad that we got a chance to spend so much time with family. We aren't going to Chicago for the holidays this year, and I have been missing everyone there a lot. Pops repainted a Radio Flyer wagon for you and walked you all around town in it. You were pretty well behaved at first, but started getting a little too brave for my liking, kneeling and peering over the edge of the wagon as it bumped its way across cracks in the sidewalks. When you started nibbling on the paint, I called a hiatus to wagon rides. But it was fun while it lasted.
2. You have become obsessed with a series of rather ridiculous books that focus on a single baby as he grows older. You make us read them over and over and over. In fact, you make us read a lot of your books over and over. I don't really mind; I'm so glad you love books. Your other favorite is a book of nursery rhymes. You keep flipping to the page with 1-2 Buckle My Shoe, but you're not so into Hickory Dickory Dock. The other day, in a desperate attempt to read you something--anything--else, I started an article from Atlantic Monthly. You tried to eat the pages.
3. Your newest word is "down." You still tell us often that things are "hot". But by far your favorite and most used word is "no". Isn't it a bit early for that? You tell us no all the time now, sometimes screeching it when we're trying to put your clothes on or change your diaper. Every time you walk down the hall, you stop to point at each of the outlets and say "no".
4. So yeah, I said walking down the hall. And you are, it's true. But you won't do it by yourself--you always have to be holding on to someone's finger. I could probably hold one end of a toothpick and you would walk easily down the hall holding the other end. What am I trying to say here? You know how to walk. Get to it.
5. We have been looking at houses most weekends. We're trying to find a place to live in Marin, and I think we have seen 50 houses in the past 7 months. We've liked two of them. We're kind of picky, your dad and I, and this is a big decision. Sometimes it feels really discouraging, and other times I can separate my desire to find our perfect place and just enjoy traipsing through someone else's home. You especially like the houses with lots of stairs, and this weekend we saw one where there were dogs. You wanted to move in right then. This is why you don't make the decisions.
6. After house hunting, we've been taking you out for dinner. We've tried sushi, mexican, italian, and pizza. Yes, those last two might kind of be the same thing. You liked edamame, but got mad at the seaweed salad. Love avocado and black beans, but wouldn't even try a quesadilla. Ignored your pasta bolognese and ate string cheese. And nibbled on the edge of a piece of pizza, but outright rejected the summer squash on top. You are a really good eater, despite how that sounds. You just need some more practice at restaurant experimentation.
7. Dad has been transferred to the Mountain View office. This means his commute is a lot longer and that he leaves pretty early in the morning. Sometimes he bikes to work, which takes him about three hours. On those days, he leaves really, really early and takes a shuttle home. So you don't see quite as much of him as you used to, but the good thing is that he still almost always gets home while you're still eating dinner. He gives you your bath and puts you to bed. Consequently, you are getting more and more attached to Dad. You get so excited to see him that it makes me smile every time.
8. This means that you know Dad's name. "Where's Dada?" we might ask and you look around and point to Dad. While "where's Mama?" usually results in you patting yourself on the chest. So if he's Dada and you're Mama, what does that make me? The babysitter?
9. I just took a break from this list because you were crying in your crib. It's so unusual for you to do that in the evening after you go down that I walked right in and picked you up. I held you in the rocking chair and sang to you. You played with my hair, then settled down and went to sleep. So I guess maybe you do know I'm your mom.
I love you,
Mom
