One year and one month. Toddlerhood looms like a giant tsunami, waiting to subsume our idyllic beach life of quasi-order in its rushing tide of chaos. He's not actually "toddling" yet - he took a few steps on the 18th, but still prefers crawling and cruising the furniture as general transport. But the warning signs are here. Favorite new activities include: crawling out of sight as fast as possible, "milk painting" (holding one's bottle upside-down and sprinkling milk on the nearest flat surface, then dabbling hands in it), smearing dinner through hair, emptying all the toys out of the toybox, emptying all the Tupperware out of the cabinet, emptying all the DVDs/CDs off the media shelf, emptying all the cans and containers out of the pantry...you get the idea. We have new photos this month, due only to Himself's talent and diligence - most of the photos I tried to take looked a lot like this:
This month he's been sick twice (ear infection and fever), I've been unemployed and grumpy, and Himself has been sick and busy at work. There have been more stellar months. But overall, I approve of Squid 1.1. So talkative! He tells whole stories in baby babble, with inflection and sentences and interrogatives and emphasis and everything. He has great facial expressions, and a laugh that makes me crack up every time I hear it. He has a great smile (eight teeth!) and a sweet nature, and while he's not quite as portable as before (he no longer reliably puts up with brunch out or grocery shopping trips without squirming and protest) he is worlds more fun.
His favorite (and exceedingly awesome) new noise is a guttural growl that makes him sound like a prehistoric Squidasaurus. "Raaar! Grrr!" Banging things is also in (he has a toy we call his "whacking stick," and I find myself saying things I never really thought I'd say, like, "No, we don't hit people in the face," and "No poking Mama in the eye!") He eats everything we eat now, except nuts and things we shouldn't be eating either, like cream puffs or cookies. And that double standard probably won't hold for long. He's getting savvier by the day, and he'll figure it out soon.
I'm actually treasuring this part of his life especially, because I recognize it as a unique moment in time that will never come again. I mean, sure, they're all unique moments in time, yadda yadda - but these few months are the only time between his real awareness and mobility and the moment when he will start to do things he knows he isn't supposed to, with that wicked "naughty" look on his face. He doesn't yet quite have a concept of "shouldn't," and so his innocence is completely real. He may get into things, but it's not mischief the way it will be soon. Total innocence is...wow. It's precious. It never comes again. I'm savoring it.
Peek-a-boo is still a popular game, and he's begun to try to play it himself, instead of just laughing like a maniac at the hide-and-reveal of other people. He's really, really bad at it though. When he is tired, sometimes he'll lie down, shove his face into his blanket (the hide) and then look up at you and laugh. He was trying to cover his face with a napkin the other day but he was too anxious for the funny part to really do it - he kept holding the napkin up as far as his nose, closing his eyes, and then opening his eyes, dropping the napkin, and laughing. Naturally, I am in no hurry to improve his skills in this area, as the cute factor is through the roof and I have no problems retarding his peek-a-boo development in the service of awwwww.
We're running into a few issues juggling dogs and kids - he likes to get into their food and water, so we move it up when he's awake/home and down again when he goes to bed. This can make for very hungry puppy dogs. Not
that hungry, though, as they supplement their diets heavily with the Hansel-like trail of crumbs, milk, and dropped food he leaves in his wake. The area under the high chair is hotly contested real estate (it is not unusual to hear territorial growls emanating from beneath him as they circle like furry little sharks, waiting for the next morsel) and one has even taken to surfing up onto the table after meals to see if he's left anything good up there. While it's nice to have an automatic floor-cleaning system, one could wish it were a little less enthusiastic. Still, at least the bolder half (the shepherd, who has been known to take crackers right out of his hand and eat them) is making up for it in sheer patience and goodwill. She lets him climb on her, paw at her, and pull her ears, all with a martyred air but no real protest. We make sure he is not too rough with her. The spaniel, on the other hand, is having none of it. It already sucks to be blind, old, and grumpy, and no grabby little whippersnapper is going to win her over, no matter
how choice the tidbits he drops. Ah well. You can please all of the people some of the time, &etc.
He's a huge fan of the great outdoors, and on some days, he will whine whenever inside until he is taken out. As our backyard also serves as the dogs' commode, this can be tough - I mean, we pick it up, but still. Ick. I tried to put him on a blanket on the porch instead of the lawn and he promptly zoomed off it and got splinters in both knees, so that won't work either. We can use the portable crib out back for short periods, and he'll people-watch from the front lawn or at the park for a short while as well, but I want him to walk before we spend much more time outside, and (in the inevitable carrot-based learning process of all babies) his interests exceed his current capacity.
It's amazing how motivated by obstacles he really is. I could learn from him, for sure - when do you think we start giving up, naturally? Babies do not have any give up in them, it seems. I spent the first half of the month hauling him off the two stairs in our house every. five. seconds. Only to find, mid-month, that he'd taught himself how to go down them safely - backing up and putting feet down first. He hadn't been seeking out danger that whole time so much as he'd been practicing until he got it right. Not only did he figure it out, he then immediately generalized the skill to get down from both the neighbor's steps and our bed. I was so pathetically proud. I called all the grandparents. "Guess what?!" I said. "Guess what?!"
We've gotten to spend a lot of good time together, this month, what with Himself being sick and me being unemployed. The Squid's still going to daycare, but we can take day trips or spend half-days together, and the weekends have been fun, with trips to the city or to farmer's markets with friends. On Tuesday we're going to the zoo with friend D and wee Myles, and on Saturday (to kick off a week and a half of solo parenting) we're having people over to decorate eggs.
Still, I hope health and employment come back to roost really soon. I've organized the garage, the pantry, the closet, the bathroom cabinets, and my office. I've done my taxes, planted out the back garden beds, cleaned up my computer files, played more hours than I want to admit of
Final Fantasy XII, alphabetized the DVDs (an exercise in futility, as he dumps the shelves out at least once a day) and started cooking a little again. I work out every day, I'm almost caught up on all my correspondence, and I am going to go batshit after another month. But whatever, I can start substitute teaching if I have to; I'm signing up to take the CBEST next week so I have that option. The world doesn't owe me a good job just because I want one.
Other than that, life is good. Really good. I am more blessed than I know how to say.
