Happy Birthday, Grandma Nora!

Ruby is wearing her party dress for the occasion. The red cowgirl boots are more an everyday thing.

Happy, happy birthday!

Perfect Spring Day

Eleven Months

Dear Ruby,

You turned 11 months old yesterday. That is only one measly month away from being one year old, but let's not dwell on that. I'm without my giant box of kleenex at the moment.

This is you coming through the tunnel of a play structure at the museum. You crawl up the stairs yourself, go through the tunnel and slide down the slide, face first. You just do it, no worries and not a glance to see if I'm around. I like that about you, even if it ages me considerably.

Oma took that picture. She and Opa were here for awhile this month and you all got to know each other really well. Now they know a little bit about what we do day to day. We like that.

Here you are, being exceptionally sweet with your dad. We had just come from the playground and you were tuckered.

This is us at the playground. This is morbid, but I told your dad that he needs to take a lot of pictures of us together in case I die. I'm fine, really, but I was reading about people who lost parents young and more than anything, they wished that there were more pictures of them together. So I'm working on my hatred of having my picture taken. For you.

(Send your therapist here if she has any questions.)

New things: Walking! You started walking at ten months, for the record. Subsequently, your dancing has evolved. It now includes fancy footwork, rocking side to side and shimmying.

Also, the rug in this photo is actually very clean. As it is always. Carry on.

We love you, you funny, sweet baby,

Mama

First Steps

Or more like fifth, sixth and seventh steps, by the time we got the camera.

She walked to Tom first, trying to hand him a cheerio. My generous, walking genius.

Walking! Holy moly.

10 months

Dear Ruby,

You are ten months old today! You may have noticed that we skipped posting about nine months, but it is not because it wasn't eventful. It was TOO eventful, really, and that is the reason for the omission. Part of the craziness was because your dad was working in the ICU, which means he was working a lot. We put most of our energy into what I like to call Keeping It Together. And it worked! Mostly!

Unfortunately, ICU month corresponded almost exactly with your nine month sleep regression. That's a real thing, I looked it up. You must have too, because at nine months on the dot, your sleep took a nose-dive. You wake up multiple times a night now, sometimes clapping, sometimes whispering, sometimes waving. Your brain is working working working, all the time. All that work is paying off, you are a Super Genius (that's a real thing, I looked it up). But dang. I'd happily accept average if it meant more sleep.




This is you with Oma. She and Opa visited last month, and will be here again this weekend as they finish up their trip south. You had so much fun with them. It was really wonderful to see how much you love each other.

Here you are staring out the window, contemplating the meaning of it all. Or looking at birds. One or the other.

This one's a bit blurry, but it's you standing in the middle of the kitchen. You do that now, stand up all by yourself, not touching anything. Sometimes you'll dance and clap a little, for variety. Your dad and I are betting you start walking some time this month.

As for teeth, you now have four top ones to go with your two bottom ones. There is a delicous space between the two front teeth, just like your dad has. Of course there is. I wouldn't be surprised to see a couple gray hairs sprout out of your head, either. You bear a slight resemblance to your father, is what I'm saying.

Other things: You are trying very hard to repeat after us, and you've been pretty successful. You can say "butta" for butterfly, and "poop" for poop. The topic of poop comes up a surprising amount. You've said baby once or twice and a bunch of other little bits.

You are fearless, charming and funny. You're a little obsessed with other babies' heads, a little overly affectionate with them, and I've had to run some interference when petting turns to grabbing. It's out of love, of course it is, but I've noticed other mothers wince a little at your lovey ways. Can we help it if the world is full of weaker babies? No we cannot.

So to sum up: your belly is for kissing, your neck is for snacking, and your tush is for squishing.

love,
Mama

She gets it from her father.

We took this about a month ago. Now it's like our feet were made for dancing.

(Note: the pole-like object is purely and unfortunately coincidental.)

Happy Birthday, Opa!

I heard it was somebody's birthday.

I told myself I wasn't going to cry. I don't know why I get so emotional.

You're HOW old?

Hey, don't even worry about it. You don't look a day over whatever age you were yesterday. I really mean that.

(and happy belated birthday to uncle nick, a ripe old 27. you look 27.)