This week you are 11-months old. I’m slow with this letter because I’m still recovering from my little bout of mastitis. Wouldn’t you know that as soon as I write about our semi-predictable schedule, we all go and change things up? At the beginning of the month, I decided it was time to drop our first night feeding (substituting Dad and his shoulder), the main goal being to gently get you to sleep through the night. You weren’t really nursing much anyway––it was more of a security thing. But to compensate for this, you suddenly wanted to nurse nearly every two hours during the day, just like old times. So where this mastitis came from, I don’t know. We’re all a little run down these days. Tooth 7 & 8 broke through right at the beginning of the month and your molars are very swollen. You had a fever virus mid-month. We’re a little closer to our goal of sleeping through the night––we’ve had a couple of nights where you made it until 5 which is more than I ever even dreamed of (of course, you were also up for the day, but that’s another story). You know what, I think those people, the ones who say they put Baby down at 7pm and don’t hear a peep again until 7am? I think they are lying!!!!
Anyway, while I was sick in bed for three days, you spent a lot of time with your father. We have a lot of roosters in our kitchen, and in my foggy haze, I could hear him saying, “Rooster, rooster!” over and over. This is now your favorite word. You wake up from your nap: “Roo-ter?” We open the curtains: “Roo-ter?” We go to let the dog in: “Roo-ter?” Then we go into the kitchen: “Ah, Roo-ter!” (big smile). When you’re not hunting roosters, you like to ask questions. “WhaT? WhaT? WhaT?” I hope this doesn’t mean you already have your father’s hearing: “What’s the weather like? What’s the weather like? What’s the weather like?” “Oh, I bought some tomatoes.”
On March 9th you took your first steps. You pulled yourself up on the couch, put both hands above your head as in, “Touchdown!” and took two steps to the coffee table. Then I got too excited and you cried. You will also pull yourself up on one of the dining room chairs and then walk over to the one I’m sitting in—still about two steps. With your pants pulled high over your big Bum Genius diapers, you look like a little old man hobbling around. Or maybe E.T—he’s a little bottom heavy. I think you’re about the same height.