Letter to Swee'pea: 11 months old

Dear Swee'pea,

Today you are 11 months old. I wasn't planning to write you a letter this month, since I just wrote the Christmas one. But lots has been going on, and I want to.

Don't worry, I won't ever take you out in public in head-to-toe tie-dye. But the woman who makes them gave me the pants and I just had to do it. Just for the photo shoot of course.

Since my last letter, the nights have been really rough. Between teething, nasty colds for all three of us, and the disruption to our semblance of a schedule caused by a week at Grandma and Grandpa's, you have been quite miserable at night, with frequent wakings and lots of crying. It felt like a flashback to the newborn days, but worse because you kick and roll and squirm.

Your difficulty sleeping has made me question our parenting choices. It seems to me that one of the first things a parent is supposed to do is get their kids to bed in a reasonable time, and we have clearly failed in this regard. I wonder if we are going to be those exhausted haggard parents completely overrun by a tyrannical child with no boundaries. I used to have such plans for my parenting, watching everyone else's mistakes before I was a parent. But now I see how easy it is to make mistakes. And how necessary it is to sometimes forget the big picture, forget the future consequences of our choices now, and focus on survival, on just getting through the day or the night. That said, I worry we are too bent on survival at the moment, and should sit back and consider the wider view.

The days haven't been so fantastic either, probably because you were exhausted (and so am/was I). You have recently started arching your back and screaming sometimes when I try to strap you into the carseat or stroller, and diaper changes are worse. Several times I've had to wipe your poopy bum as you present it to me at high speed in the other direction. When I capture you and put you back on the floor like some kind of pro wrestler you get most outraged until finally I figure you're clean enough and let you roam with a free willy.

The funny thing, though, is that your sense of humour really seemed to intensify during this time. So you could spend most of a day either weeping or laughing hysterically, with not much quiet awake time in between. Nothing is too mundane to make you laugh, whether it's your dad with his hood up, or tickling my lower back when I'm sitting at the computer. Many times, we still don't know what you're laughing at, but it makes us feel amazing, like superheroes, nonetheless.

I think things may be turning around in the sleep department. Yesterday you finally cut your sixth tooth, which I think has been responsible for at least some of your misery. You still won't let my finger in your mouth to confirm that it's actually cut through, but this photo seems pretty conclusive. Last night, you fell asleep around 8 pm, and after a couple of quick unhappy awakenings, I put a couple of my dirty shirts in the bed, and you slept with no parental interference or assistance until I came to bed at nearly 11. Even then, you didn't wake for a nurse until around 11:30. It was heaven. You still woke up a few times after that, but these wakings didn't involve much crying, just rooting and grunting for the boob.

I have read that babies usually have a bit of a teething break after their sixth tooth, which comes at a great time, since we're flying to the other side of the world next week. Let's just hope you and your teeth have read the same websites I have!

Speaking of the long arduous flight ahead of you, yesterday we went to our local independent toy store and picked up some items that we will bring out on the plane. I've heard it's a good thing to have brand new toys or toys you haven't seen for a while on a long flight. We bought a toy flashlight that lights up and doesn't make too many annoying noises, a soft version of your "First Tools," which you instantly discovered you can open and close like a book (your favourite activity these days is most certainly opening and closing things: books, cupboards, doors; if it opens and closes you wanna piece of it).

At Grandma and Grandpa's the excitement of new toys didn't last long and you went back to the thrill of opening the cereal cupboard and retrieving the boxes.

We also bought you a toy cell phone. If anyone had told me when I was pregnant that I was going to give my child a toy cell phone at the age of 11 months I would have laughed in their face. But... what can I say? You love pushing buttons on anything electronic (you've turned the computer off and changed obscure settings on the tv and vcr more than once). And the toy cell phone has a quiet setting that still makes enough noise to engage you but not enough to piss off the 500 other passengers crammed into the ship of steel somehow flying through the sky (and us, of course). And -- it's pink. Somehow if I'm contradicting gender stereotypes it's ok to buy my baby a toy cell phone.

You are a total speed demon on your hands and knees now. Sometimes you get so caught up with the speed, you put your head down and really kick it into high gear. I know this is what you're doing because I do it too. Sometimes when I'm belly dancing, especially in front of an audience, I really inhabit the movement. Unfortunately, I get so into it, I forget the choreography. Just this morning on the way to a greasy breakfast I was mesmerized by the bewitching combination of my red cords and new red shoes. Most of the time you look up just in time to avoid crashing head-on into something hard, but occasionally you get so caught up you just keep going faster and faster, head down for better aerodynamics, and you crash: the side of a doorway, the banister of the stairs, the stroller we park in the front hall. Happily, it never seems to bother you, so your dad and I can laugh without feeling bad.

You have become more confident (i.e. reckless) in your movements. Not only do you just drop onto your hands from standing, now you also raise your hands and launch yourself forward onto them a bit like a pouncing cat when you go from sitting or kneeling to high-speed crawl.

My favourite thing these days is to watch you and your daddy play. I love seeing the looks of mutual adoration pass back and forth between. And despite all my doubts and fears, these are the moments when I feel the warmth of my little family, and the rightness of the big choices so far.

Maybe it's only obvious to me, but this guy is IN LOVE with that little ear (cut off by Blogger, sadly).

Love Mum