Letter Month 11

Dear Sena,

The monitor is on in your room right now and you're debating if you want to practice your singing or grunting. Hopefully singing will win out—both now and in the future—it is definitely more socially acceptable (although you know I'll love you regardless).

This month we've seen a new side of your personality emerge—your stubbornness. Now, I'm not sure where you get this, but we're going to blame your father. (I'm sure my family would debate this claim, but hey, I'm the one writing this story.) You decide when you want to stand by putting your hands in front of mine and nodding your head that you want up. You decide you want water by eyeing your water bottle from across the room. And, you decide that you are not going to learn to crawl—under any circumstances—so we might as well give up before you throw your first official tantrum at the ripe old age of 11-months.

Now, despite this stubbornness, I can't believe what a delight you are. The last three days, we've ate breakfast, gone on walks, ate lunch, played outside, had a snack, walked around the house, and ate dinner, and for every activity you are truly captivated and full of joy. (P.S. You did inherit your mama's love of food as evidenced by your schedule.) Today, I took you into Boulder to buy Aunt Tanya a much-needed new mama necessity, and we ran into a woman carrying her dog around. You were so funny. As the woman passed by, you stared at her- totally perplexed (again, not sure where you get this from!), and then had this big, goofy grin on your face, like, "Why is she carrying her woof-woof, mama??" And, I had to look at you and just smile, thinking to myself, "I don't know!"

While we walk, you talk and sing. And, I sing and talk to you. I know I look absolutely crazy, like that woman on the T.V. commercial who appears to be singing and talking to the washing machine at the laundromat, when in fact she has a baby in a bouncy seat that she is trying to entertain... But, ahh that is my life.

Speaking of bouncing- Tara and Tristan loaned us Tristan's old bouncy thingy.. and if mama bounces next to you, you'll bounce, too. A win-win. You think it's funny, and mama gets her heart rate up—even if just for a few seconds. You also think it is extremely funny if we play "chase," or essentially either mama or papa holds you and the other one chases you around the kitchen. You shriek each time papa "gets you", while mama and papa try and catch their breaths. Did I mention that we feel like we're in great shape?!

You started swim lessons this past week, and although the swimming was really fun, the teachers were really pretty pathetic. (They decided to have the group sing/swim to "The Wheels on the Bus," but then admitted to not knowing the words. No worries, Tara decided to lead the group in cheer. Tara, were you a cheerleader??) Anyway, although I'm tempted to let everyone imagine how you looked in your teensy, weensy bikini (thanks grandma Sheree), with your Buddha belly hanging out, I've pasted a picture here. You LOVED the water. You loved jumping in with mama, floating on your back, and watching mama try to get you to blow bubbles in the water. (Gotta love the chlorine, yuck.) What you weren't so sure of was floating on your stomach as evidenced by the death grip on mama's arm.)





In January, papa installed a new railing system to help childproof our house. Although you're not really mobile on your own (you're cruising but not walking more than a few steps unassisted), we feel like it could be any day that you take off and walk, run, grab the keys and head out the door. Okay, not really, but you get my point. Anyway, the other day papa stood you up on the top stairs, leaning against the rail, and I was on the main level (tri-level). You could hear my voice, so you peered, standing up on your tip-toes. Just your little blue eyes could be seen between the slats. I nearly fell over I was laughing so hard. And, you, so proud, kept doing it. You seem to get a lot of joy out of making us laugh (even if it is when you're doing inappropriate things like picking your nose). And, I must say, the feeling is mutual.






love you,
mama