Let’s get one thing clear right now: you are NOT turning one year old in a month. No way. Uh-uh. See, it’s not possible because I know, I know, that I just gave birth to you two weeks ago. You should still be a floppy little swaddled burrito of newborn squishiness.
So, now that we’re on the same page…holy moly baby! You can seriously communicate! You say as many words now – on a frequent and regular basis – as your older sister did at eighteen months old. Even two word sentences. Your current favorite is “Hi!” with a huge smile and a wave, often in combination as “Hi Dada!” I also frequently hear “Dis! Dis!” (This! This!) while you point at whatever object you currently want to chew on. Oh yeah, you can point with the best of them now, and you are very clearly right-handed.
At mealtimes you treat us to an impressive display of sign language, from “milk” and “more” and very clear head-shaking when you don’t want something to a crystal clear “All done!” with hands straight up in the air and a head painted with at least 50% of whatever you were just served for dinner. Your babyfood days are rapidly drawing to a close as you refuse being spoon fed more often than not and clearly prefer to feed yourself whatever we are eating. You are a beautiful example of Baby-Led Weaning.
Oh the weaning. I have such mixed emotions about this. Ever since your bout with Roseola when you went on nursing strike, you nurse far less often. Only once or twice during the day, a nice long nursing session at bedtime, and then whenever you wake during the night. Which can be anywhere from every 1-2 hours to just twice. On the one hand, I’m enjoying the freedom of not having to constantly schedule around when you are going to need to nurse (and balance that with mealtimes and naptimes). It’s also nice to think that someday soon I might get to wear regular t-shirts and clothes that don’t snap apart for easy breastfeeding access. I’m getting really bored with the same five nursing tank tops every day. On the other hand, I love our nursing sessions. I love the quiet way we just rock together in the glider, while you reach your hand up to strum my lips or stroke my neck. I love the way you drift off to sleep in my arms at night as I nurse you before bedtime, the way you finally let go and roll your head back into the crook of my arm, passed out in milky bliss. I will continue to do this with you as long as you want to, which I hope is quite awhile longer.