It is the last day of the year, everything all swept up into a bundle of meaning to carry on a stick into the new year. You are 15 months old, and what has happened in the last three months is really unbelievable. For instance, you are definitely a kid now. Not a baby. Babies are the other kids that we see at the library and bookstore, or the book of baby faces that you have to say goodnight to every night, or when you catch a glimpse of yourself in old videos. You see a baby and start vigorously swinging your arms back and forth in sign language. You are irresistibly drawn to babies, while you yourself are morphing every week into a new being, layers of experience building on layers of existence. Today I am attempting to spend the entire day in pajamas, and collect some of the fragments of memories of the past few months into this diary.
I guess, first I would like to say that our relationship has evolved into something completely new. This is the most fun I have had with you since you were born.. not that it hasn't all been so exquisite, but it has been challenging: heaven with a dash of torture. Now some of that stressed-out, out-of-control, what the hell are we doing? are we doing this right? How do we know? feeling is lessening, as you are obviously turning out just fine, and gaining independence and a small measure of self-sufficiency, a will of your own including the ability to communicate that will- and as we are starting to really understand each other, in a mutually flow-back-and-forth sort of way. I like this. I really like watching your distinct personality emerge. It is so rewarding.
A sweet moment from today: listening to Puccini's aria in the car on the way home from daycare, I had prepared some peanut butter on toast for you and you were happily munching on it in your car seat, smearing it all over your jacket and face of course, and making the happy digestive "mmmmmmm"-ing sound that you make when you think something tastes especially good. The arias were trembling and peaking and tumbling all over themselves, and the snow was lit by golden light, and I remember feeling suddenly quite happy as I peeked into the mirror and caught you with your eyes slitted almost closed, still rapturously chewing, and I imagined, enjoying the elegance of the music. Next time I glanced back, you were thoroughly passed out, hand still clenching the remaining toast.
I guess the most striking thing to me, the most apparent change, has been the development of language in the last month. Really, the last two weeks have been like opening a flood dam- words are just starting to pour out. You have added "mama", "dada", "ball", "up", "cheese" (eez) "moo" (what does a cow say?) "hat", "ruff ruff"(what does a doggy say?), "qua qua" (what does a duck say?), and of course, your all-time favorite new word, "more" while pointing your index finger into the palm of the other hand. I should add it is pronounced like a true Bronx girl = 'mwoah'.
On "Mwoah"
Your father was remarking on the amazing fact that you use "more" not to just indicate a desire for more objects, as in "more cheese" or "more milk", but can communicate a desire to repeat experiences as well. Today, he was reading in bed and you clambered onto his lap, and he started to read to you from his 'Dictionary of Philosophy'. As in: 'Semantics: The study of meaning . . . blah . . . blah'. I watched your head kind of list to one side as you stared off into space, lids lowered, and I laughed as I was folding laundry and said 'Jamba, I think you are boring her stiff,' so he put his book to one side. You suddenly perked up and said 'mwoah? mwoah?' while jamming your finger into his fist. So he shrugged and picked up the book and you clenched your fists into your lap the way you do when you are really excited. 'Dogma: The . . .'
On 'Dada' vs. 'Mama'
The day you called your father 'Dada' was one of the happiest days of his life, but you just as often call him 'Mama', as this seems to be a catchall phrase indicating something like 'source of greatest comfort and desire'. I told him he should consider himself honored, but he persists in laughingly correcting you every time.
Okay, but even beyond the words that have started tumbling out, there has been a notable and remarkable leap forward in terms of comprehension. I am astonished at how much language you understand, and respond to. I can tell you to do things, and you do them. I ask you point to your cheek, and you do it. You know all the parts of the body. (How did you learn that?) I ask you to bring me your hat, and you do it. I tell you to show something to daddy and you obediently totter off to find him. If you are clamoring for something, I can ask you to wait for a minute, you actually calm down, knowing that relief will soon be on its way. Today we were walking around the room together, having already played with the farm and with Ros and with the ukelele, and you were a little on edge, and so I asked you, 'Do you want to ride on your horsie?' And you shook your head 'no.' 'Do you want to read a book' and you shook your head 'no'. And I walked over to the door and asked 'Do you want to go outside?' And you nodded your head 'Yes'. Totally, amazing. I absolutely love the relationship we can have when words are involved.
Froghopping
Yesterday, a very wonderful and silly new game was invented: Sava jumping on command. You were kind of jumping up and down while a song was going, and I started laughing. It was so cute. You maybe cleared like an inch at most, but you scrunched all the way down to the floor to do it. I told you "Sava, get down" and you scrunched down again, and then I said "one two three: Jump!" and you did your little froghop. So cute!!! We played that for awhile.
Raising the Roof
About four months ago, we put a stereo upstairs on the little bookshelf in the little pocket of hallway that connects our three upstairs rooms, and you have become obsessed with the music that comes pouring out of the little box that you can just reach. You are always pointing to it, asking for the music to be turned on, and then after about 20 seconds of song, and some pretty awesome bouncing and twirling, you go up to it and turn the dial to shut it off. I think it is fascinating to you, to have a sense of power or control over the music. Anyway we have started a morning tradition of having quick dance parties in that little square of space up in front of the window, with me often putting articles of clothing on between takes. You have some pretty awesome dance moves, having recently added "turning around in a circle" to your repertoire, and our new favorite, which is to stick your tummy out while you lean back and kind of wave your arm across your body like a lazy disco star. When you want to dance, you either point to a stereo, or more usually, put your hand up in the air to 'raise the roof', which is what I guess we have taught you from all of our picking you up and bouncing madly around the kitchen while listening to hip hop.
There is so much to tell. Your hair is just starting to grow in a little, and it is getting darker, although it still glints like coppery honey in the sunlight. You are apparently composed of super-condensed matter, like a collapsing star, as you are getting increasingly difficult to heft around town. Luckily, you like to walk everywhere. It is hard for me to actually imagine you crawling, so quickly have you acclimated to life in the vertical plane.
Goodnight Moon
A few months ago Daddy initiated a goodnight ritual with you, that has actually really helped you to start going to sleep better at night. It involves getting into pjs, rolling around on the bed and playing a spot of ukelele, maybe reading a book (although you are still generally uninterested in reading, other than the process of manipulating the pages), and then he picks you up in his arms and you go around the room saying goodnight to everything in the room, waving your little hand to each thing in turn.
The order is: Goodnight butterflies. goodnight street. Goodnight paper lantern (hit that, he says, and you hit it with your dinky hand). Goodnight sun, goodnight moon (the string of lighted ornaments draped across the room). Goodnight mama's paintings (she painted these while you were still a newt in her belly). Goodnight other paper lantern (touch this one . . . gently). Goodnight world outside the window (pulling aside the curtain, and naming the things you see though the window. He says 'Goodnight snow' (at which point you touch your nose) and 'Goodnight roof' (at which point you let out a gentle 'ruf ruf'' doggy bark). Then you continue: Goodnight babies (and you swing your arms back and forth). Then, we put you in the crib, and he picks up each of your stuffed animals and asks you which ones you want to sleep with. THis is a process of elimination in which he holds them on the edge of the crib and talks through them in silly voices to see which ones you'll bat to the floor.
I am really happy to see that you are a child of joy and happiness and love. You are so sweet and affectionate. The past few weeks, you have really started to say "Mama" a lot. You will be nursing and you will stop to look up at me and say "Mama?" There is such a clear earnestness to the word. And I look down at you and say "Yes?" You pausing to look up at me and say "Mom?", questioningly, has a little bit of the same flavor as your previous nursing ritual, which was to, while nursing, look up at me sideways and squeeze your fist in the sign for "milk", so that I would look down at you and softly say "Milk" back to you, and you would grin and kind of scrunch back down to business, renewed. It seemed to tickle you so much- to hear the word attached with the action, and to also to be able to get me to say something on command.
That is actually kind of an interesting thing to write about. Jamba and I have noticed that a favorite game- one that sends you over the moon (we know you are sublimely happy when you arch your back all the way back while squealing) is to get us to attach regular repetitive sound to your movements. For instance, if I am holding you in my arms with us facing each other, and you start bouncing up and down, I go "bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy", where "bounce" is timed to your lowest squat, and "see" is timed to your upward thrust, and we could play that game for awhile. You love it.. you love the machine of cause and effect. The key is in the utter predictability of it, so that it is not just a game of will or control, but rather a simple fact of nature, like gravity or water falling. We gave you a jewelry box at xmas, a velvety one that opens and shuts with a satisfying snap, and every time you opened it, I said "open" and every time you closed it, I said "shut" and my god -something clicked in you. You were doing it over and over again while I said "open shut open shut open shut" and man, there was some back arching and general falling over from all the happiness.
Your main focus of play is still the physical manipulation of objects. Putting things into compartments, fitting objects into slots. Pulling the toilet paper off the roll, tearing it up into little pieces, and putting those pieces carefully into the trash. Opening and closing boxes. In the bath, pouring water from one container into another. Favorite reading books are the ones with flaps that open and close, or that have portals from one page to the other, and our act of reading is generally one of us blurting out text as you turn the pages, open and close the book, etc. You are starting to really jabber while you are playing, ie when you are stuffing all the farm animals into the silo, so I imagine there is some narrative in your head as you are at work, but for now, that is still a mystery to us.
You will roll and tumble all over us with kisses and affection. You love being hugged and tickled and kissed. You like to say 'Mama?' and have me say 'yes?' and then give me a kiss. I am happy that all the love and affection we have poured into you, is so easily coming tumbling right back out. For instance, the other night, we were rolling around on the bed in your room, and I had bare feet: i think I was wearing underwear and a shirt, as we had just gotten out of the shower, and you were walking all around me on the bed and tumbling over me, and I was lifting you up into airplane and so on... and I had my feet up in happy baby pose doing a little stretch, when you suddenly grinned and walked up so that your chest was at the level of my feet, and started tickling my bare feet with your fingers! It was so spontaneous and hilarious and loving all at the same time. I couldn't believe the tables were turned and finally you were the one tickling me! Daddy came in to join in the fun and we remembered that you had tickled his feet once when we were all together in bed and you had been watching me rub his feet, and then came up to do the same, and he started laughing pretending that you were tickling him, which you loved. Later he said he taught you how to tickle your dolly's feet, so that is what we figured inspired you this time.
It is so interesting, seeing the things that we do and say around you, starting to trickle back out. For instance, we were walking down the stairs in the dark and when we passed the paintings of the dogs on the wall, even though it was dark and you could probably barely see them, you went "ruf ruf" really quietly. I was surprised: I don't remember ever pointing them out to you, and yet you have accumulated a memory of their position in your life.
Love,
Mom
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