Archive for May 2013

I’m not unfamiliar with the sentiment that once a child can walk up to mama and ask for milk … it just might be time to move on. Except I never knew you’d be able to do this at 12-13 months. That doesn’t even count as “extended breastfeeding.” Anyway, you show no signs whatsoever of losing interest, and you’re lucky I’m in no hurry to wean. In fact, sometimes you get agitated when I put my boob away, like, HEY! Okay, I know you thought I was finished, but I’M NOT FINISHED!

Breastfeeding doesn’t even keep you still anymore, which IT’S SUPPOSED TO DO. You breastfeed and dance at the same time. You breastfeed and HUM! At the same time. I’m, uhh, glad you draw so much artistic inspiration from this activity.

IMG_3649Since I alluded to weaning: I’m starting to think you need to be weaned off electronics. You find cell phones altogether too fascinating. All our handheld devices now have passcode locks to prevent you from poking around and “restarting springboard” … whatever that means.

You climb up and down stairs with ease. We don’t even have stairs in our house (save the creepy ones down to the basement), so I’m not sure how you could’ve practiced this. You’ve been able to safely slide yourself off furniture for a while now, so I don’t need to worry about you falling off the (guest) bed anymore.

It’s been a long, drawn-out road to walking, but here we are at last. From the first time you stood unassisted (at seven months), to first steps (twelve months), to willingly walking on your feet instead of your knees (a few weeks ago). I guess this means you’re officially a toddler! Where did my baby go? Admittedly things were simpler before you became mobile, but they weren’t half as fun.

It looks like she's upset, but she's actually clowning around.

It looks like she’s upset, but she’s actually clowning around.

You do this fake laugh, and it looks like this:

Sometimes you’ll even point and laugh, as if you’re making fun of something. Once it was a sleeping baby. Often it’s your reflection in a mirror.

Daddy and I were taking inventory the other day, and we realized that you know over twenty words! Some you say:

  • mama
  • hi
  • neh-neh
  • wow
  • 唉呀 (ai ya)
  • 爸爸 (daddy)
  • up
  • baby
  • amen (“ame-yah”)
  • please (“bee”)

Some you “sign”:

  • bye
  • no
  • yes
  • kiss
  • thank you
  • brush teeth

Some you recognize and respond to:

  • face
  • why
  • give
  • nose
  • high five
  • hug

Next milestone after walking: levitation.

You dislike the sensation of grass under your bare feet, and will contort yourself in attempts to avoid such contact.

You and I play hide-and-seek around the house.

I’m pleased that you get along so well with other children. Especially ones who are slightly older, old enough to humour you when you jabber at them unintelligibly. Old enough not to mind when you grab at items of interest in their hands or knock down things they’ve built. Really, though, you’re all friendliness and curiosity.

Daddy has a boxful of wooden stir sticks in his office, and you’re obsessed with them. You like to gather them into bundles and traipse around the house holding as many as you can in your fists, and a few in your mouth. You freak out when some slip out of your grasp, which inevitably happens because your hands are too small to hold that many! So then you crumple to your knees, wailing, “Oh no! Oh no!” Except it comes out more like, “Ah nao!” Have I mentioned that you’re hilarious?

Of course she doesn't mind sitting in the carseat when it's not in the car.

Of course she doesn’t mind sitting in the carseat when it’s not in the car.

Your newest (understood) word is “hug,” and it is priceless. You’ll even pat us affably on the back or shoulder; I didn’t even realize I did that to you until you started doing it to me.

no more

Posted on: 21 May 2013

In the early afternoon.

S: I have a craving for Kraft Dinner.

In the evening.

K: Hey, there’s still some KD left in the pot. You didn’t finish it?

S: Yeah. I know. Kraft Dinner is like coke; it’s only good the first serving.

I can imagine some things getting easier.

We’re in an interesting window of time where Ashelyn has definite wants and opinions, but not always the language to communicate them. She’s a strong-willed little thing, and I fear that the stage is set for tantrums. So far the closest we’ve come is the odd phenomenon wherein all her bones liquefy and she oozes out of our grasp onto the floor in slow-motion protest. It’s amusing more than anything else … for now. And even though she’s normally no mystery to me, I look forward to the day Ashelyn can just tell me what she wants, how she feels. Guesswork can be tedious. Plus, toddlerspeak is squee! (So I suppose this will get worse before it gets better.)

She’ll increasingly be able to occupy herself, for increasing lengths of time. With books, for instance. Books are a magnificent occupier of time, if I remember correctly. I may even be able to shower more than twice a week.

Oh yes, and eventually she’ll have her own room and sleep in there. Eventually she’ll want to. One day. Hopefully before the age of four.

I can imagine other things becoming more difficult.

Ashelyn is still young and pliable enough to be easily distracted away from undesirable objects and situations, and thus potential scenes are quickly diffused. Move away from those cables, Ashelyn, come have some water from your sippy! Aww, did that other kid snatch your toy? Look, here’s another one!

She hasn’t yet gotten into all the cupboards and drawers. It’s an old house, so much of the built-in cabinetry is “sticky” and needs to be wrangled open – an unexpected boon. Also, she can’t open the refrigerator.

Maybe it’s the still-developing memory, but Ashelyn is very forgiving and holds no grudges. By the time she wakes up, she’s forgotten that she hates me for making her nap in the first place. Phew.