I'm at a bit of a loss again of what to say on this occasion, your 11 month birthday. I waver between reminiscing on how much you've changed in this short time; of remembering your peaceful newborn-ness; of hair that wasn't long enough to fall in your eyes. Between that and looking toward next month. To one year. To all that my next letter will mean - to you. to me. to everyone who has loved you these months.
I find it hard to settle in this time. To really sink my teeth into what it means to be 11 months old. Lately, for you, little one, it's meant day care and one more tooth and a few shaky steps. 11 months has meant opinions being shared, no's having meaning (to you and us), and giggles so joyous it makes me think the world will really be ok after all. It has meant calling Dad, "dada dada" and hummus for lunch.
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| I call this "strategic finger placement" |
I guess it's been pretty magnificent and pretty normal all at the same time. Funny how life can be like that when you stop and think about it; no looking back or forward. Just looking around and thinking, "yup, this is today." This is what it means to have my heart outside my body for 11 months.
Mom
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