To Stella, Thirteen Months Old

Dear Stella,

Hi.

I guess it is safe to say that hi is your first real and certainly favorite word. You say it to almost everyone you see. When I am carrying you down the street, you peer over my shoulder and say it to the person behind us. When you step out of the elevator, you say it to whichever doorman is on duty or whoever happens to be there. When we arrive at Grandma and Grandpa's house, it is your salutation of choice. When we lose sight of each other in the apartment and then one of us comes around a corner and we reunite, you chirp it out. When you are playing in the bathroom while I take a shower, you will peek around the curtain to make sure that I am still there and call out your favorite greeting. Similarly, when I am cleaning up the mess under the dining room table and you are sitting in your booster seat high chair thing, you will look down at me on my hands and knees and cry out in your precious-and-adorable-I-hope-I-never-forget-it-Pebbles-Flinstone voice, "Hi". I know this is just for now and everytime you say it, I try to burn in my brain what it sounds like. There are some other things that I really loved that you have already abandoned. For example, I really loved it when I would stick out my tongue and you would open your mouth and slowly lean forward until my tongue was inside your mouth. I'm sure that sounds kind of gross but a mere thirteen months and one day ago your whole body was inside me so really, what's a little tongue?














I'll tell you one thing, thirteen months is an incrediblly great age. You communicate really well and I think you understand almost everything that I say. Like this morning, you were eating your oatmeal with your hands and I said, "Stella, don't you want to use your spoon?" and you looked right over to your lovely pink plastic spoon laying idly by your side, said "No", and picked up a hunk of oatmeal utensil-free. When we were done with breakfast, there was cereal everywhere. All over the floor, your chair, the table and mostly you. Good thing Daddy woke up and brought you into the shower with him. You needed it. You also say "wa" when you want water, "ba" for "bath", "pee" when we go into the bathroom so I can pee and, my favorite, "ma" when you want me. The other morning, you woke up around 6am and Daddy went to get you. He found you standing in your crib sucking your pacifier and said that when you saw him, you took the pacifier out of your mouth, cried out "MA!", put the pacifier back in your mouth and pointed vehemently towards the door demanding that he take you to me. He did.

A week ago, you and I joined a music class on the Upper West Side where we are moving soon. It is called Music for Aardvarks and you seem to like it a lot. Before enrolling we took a trial class somewhere else but were both really bored. You spent the whole class on the far side of the room sitting on this little ledge barely participating. I don't blame you: the music sucked and the teacher didn't even play the guitar. So the next day we did another trial at Aardvarks and we liked it much better. You still spent a lot of time exploring the room distinguishing yourself from all the other kids who stayed on the carpet where the teacher was. You wanted to check out every little cranny of the room. But this week, you didn't do that anymore -- you were more involved with the music and the class. Maybe it's because we played that freaking Aardvarks CD every day and sang the Taxi song more times than I care to count.










I think that you and I are nearing the end of our breastfeeding relationship. I still nurse you once a day, in the morning when you get up. We all lie in bed together - and you nurse and we cuddle and then we play a little bit before we get up. I used to especially love this time because you would fall asleep again after nursing but now, once you are up, you are up. I think that this part of our lives is almost over because we need to stop before you can say, "lift up your shirt, Mama, and give me a drink of that" or even "boobie" which you probably won't say because Daddy and I don't use stupid words like that when we are talking about body parts. Don't worry, we will not call a penis "peepee" or a vagina "privates", we call it like it is. But I digress. Point is, for me, I wouldn't be comfortable breastfeeding a talker. Having said that, I am really going to miss that time together. Before I had you I was really unsure what breastfeeding was going to be like for me. I thought I might find it wierd or uncomfortable. My breasts were so big I thought I might not be able to stand it. But none of that was true. Once we got past the first two weeks which were really tough, it was a beautiful, amazing thing and I am so proud that we kept it up for so long. I love peering down at you as you look back up at me, I love the huge smile you get in anticipation of breastfeeding or when you take a little break. I love being able to hold you so close for so long, something that is already becoming much more infrequent as you gain independence. When you were little little, you wanted to be held all the time but those days are long gone. Now most of the time, after just a few minutes you squirm out of my arms. But not when we are breastfeeding. Then you are all mine. I'm really going to miss that.

But a new thing we have now: From across the room, I crouch down on the ground, open my arms and say can I have a hug and you toddle across the room and into my arms. That's better than tennis.

These days you are really into standing on things, anything that will give you a few extra inches. You love the little step stool in the kitchen which I sometimes open for you to stand on while I am making you dinner. The little cart that you pushed around and around and around the pool in Shelter Island is now a real hazard as all you want to do with it is stand on it. (You cracked your head open a bit doing just this a couple weeks ago. Don't worry...I don't think any of your brains leaked out but you did break skin.) But really, you'll stand on anything. This morning, you tried to stand on the computer but Daddy explained to you that it cost many thousands of dollars and thus, stepping on it was a bad idea. You also, just as all the baby books said you would, love to reach up and pull things off of tables, shelves, whatever. I realized the other day that much of the next few years of my life is going to be spent cleaning up after you. I don't mind so much except I am not very good at cleaning up after myself so I still have a lot to learn about it.

But you have already taught me so many things, I think I can handle one more.

As Big Nutbrown Hare would say, "I love you all the way up to the moon. And back."

Love,
Ma

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