Stats

So, this month, for the very first time, I neglected to write a Monthaversary tribute to my daughter.
You know, like when she was
five months
and
six months
and
seven months
and
eight months…
And it’s not that I’ve been forgetful
or busy teaching.

It’s that I can’t put into words how much this little 9 month old means to me.
I can’t find the right way to say that she is my air
and my song
and what makes my blood pump
and my world make sense.
9 months old.
She’s now been out longer than she was ever in.
In fact, she’s now going to be turning a whopping 10 months in just a few days.
I know.
She’s old.
But, in all seriousness, I need to learn to stop blinking. Every time I do, another month has gone by.
And she has changed some more.
When I began writing this baby book of sorts, my daughter was scarcely two months old.
She was so new.
So itty.
So babyish.
And, in the time since I first wrote about getting poop on my face
(aka my very first blog post ev-er)
my little peanut of a baby has completely blossomed into a little girl.
She has a personality.
She has grace.
She has a sense of humor.
She has words.
She has hair.
And, I’m not a talented enough writer to write what that all means.
Plus, I just love her too much. I start to lose my mind when I try to articulate how and why I feel the way I do.
My lips start to tremble.
My hands get weak.
My eyes start to spring a leak.
And so, I will take a much more clinical approach and record my latest baby stats in this baby book of mine.
And, because I don’t keep a real baby book
(just this and a very special journal, about which I will share the story some other time soon),
I have no idea what one actually records in those little spaces,
so I’ll make it up.
Here goes:
At 9 months old,
my little mama jama is a crawling machine.
She thinks she’s a dog.
The dogs are her best friends.
They are her idols.
She likes to play in their water bowl, carry socks in her mouth, shake the life out of toys and eat her food with no hands.
Her favorites:
Song: “It’s OK, Try Again” by, The Shins
TV Show: Yo Gabba Gabba, duh
Food: Zeyda Bear’s meatballs marinara
Drink: breastmilk
Book: Goodnight Moon
She has 2 teeth,
poses like a supermodel,
brushes her own hair,
sticks out her tongue on command,
mimic’s everyone’s everything,
and makes us fall more and more in love with her every single second.
Happy 9 3/4 months, sweetest dear.
You’re our everything,
our only thing
and our best thing.
Love,
Your Very Proud Mama

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