Dear Daughter

Elle Belle,

You're such an amazingly expressive little girl. We ask you to give us kisses, and about 75% of the time you do it, but in such a coy way that you get all bashful when we praise you. For a few days, you were also making this adorable internal growl when you wanted something. You totally know how to work a room. I was explaining this to your Daddy, who then saw it in real life with you at the grocery store. You have an innocent look on your face as you intently study new people, like the family you met at Grandma Rene's funeral or people at the grocery store. You stare at them until they look at you, then you dissolve in to faux shyness as they notice you and comment on you. Then you gradually "come around" and give them a big smile. Very, very cute. Well done, my little diva :).

And for the people who DON'T look at you? Watch out. You basically shoot daggers at them. I mean, I see your point: How dare they not acknowledge the adorable baby before them? But you're going to have to get over it someday, Elle - while you're the center of Mommy and Daddy's universe, you're not the center of everyone else's universe.

I wonder: "Why wouldn't everyone look at me?!"

You recently decided you HATE, HATE, HATE getting your diaper changed in public places, and it is not because of modesty. You get this panicked look, scream, cry, try to arch and flip over and make the diaper change last three times longer than it needs to. (Related to above: This behavior is not a way to win fans.) At first I thought it was because of the flushing of multiple toilets that was scaring you, or the hand dryers near the changing table. Then I thought maybe it was any harder surface, since you're so used to being changed on the changing pad at home. But then your daddy pointed out that it might be because it reminds you of the pediatrician's office, which is a very good guess. I hope you grow out of that one, because it makes things rather not fun. You did a lot better on our trip to Ohio and Pennsylvania, but those instances usually involved a larger, marble changing area or a smaller, quieter bathroom.

Speaking of that trip - your waving is adorable. You were doing it all the time while we traveled, which was really cool. The most memorable wave, ever, though, literally brought tears to my eyes. It was the last few minutes of the second visitation for Grandma. Two people from the church's bereavement counseling group came and gathered the last remaining family and friends for prayers. You had been the star of the day until that point, and now it was quiet and all eyes were fixed on these people, and Grandma. You spent a few minutes looking around, kind of trying to verify that you were no longer the center of attention, but you didn't fuss or babble - you just took it all in. I hadn't cried much all day - you kept me preoccupied, and there was a weird sense of celebration in the funeral home, with family and friends who hadn't seen each other in years gathered to remember the life of and end of suffering for an amazing woman. But as the prayers were concluding, you waved at Grandma's casket. I don't know who else saw it, but Grams, Aunt Marti and I all looked at each other. We had seen it. And at that point, I started to cry.

I'm sad about Grandma Rene's death for a lot of reasons, but I've also come to terms with some things that bring me peace. When my grandpa died, I was absolutely devastated that he would miss so much - he wouldn't get to see me get married. He wouldn't meet any of my kids. But Grandma did. And that brings me a lot more comfort than I realized it would. And having you at the funeral was something I wouldn't do any differently. You brought an element of lightness to the weekend, but you also symbolized a continuance of life - I'll be sure to make sure you always know about your family, and believe me, you'll hear plenty of stories about your great-grandmother.  

Random Cheerio cuteness.

I know every parent probably says this, but we truly believe you're the coolest kid to ever live. Every time I put you down for your afternoon nap, I tell you what a good girl you've been and recap everything we've done that day. Usually, I leave for work while you're sleeping, so I tell you that the sitter will be there when you wake up, and I tell you who will get you in the morning (your daddy and I alternate days to wake up and change your diaper before bringing you in to nurse). On the two nights I put you to bed, I do the same thing, but I tell you all about the plans we have for the next day, too. Do you have any idea what I'm saying? Doubtful. But it's important time to me regardless.

You're growing up so fast. You are SO. OVER. baby stuff like the pacifier. Now if you have one, you play with it and gnaw it to death. It's thumb or nothing with you for sleepy times.

There is nothing in world like a water bottle to you. Mommy's wallet runs a close second in pacifying you, and you fell asleep clutching it last month when we were shopping with Aunt Marti. I don't know why a wallet is your lovey, but hey, whatever works.

Cheapest, most versatile "toy" in the world.

You're quite an efficient nurser now. Maybe it's because you know there are bigger and better things to do in the world, like crawl, chase kitties and eat solid food, but your nursing sessions don't last nearly as long as they did even 2-3 months ago. I miss the longer bonding time, but I have to admit it is nice to be able to go to a restaurant, order food and nurse you before my dinner arrives, rather than trying to eat one-handed while you leisurely eat and I starve. Or not block out an extended period of time before errands or before I leave for work so we aren't rushed. You're also, uh, very aware of where your milk comes from, and you lunge and paw at my chest now. You're like a starving little animal, eyes trained on one thing.

You love shoe laces. One of my bosses nicknamed your "Lizzie Lazer" when I was pregnant, and I've changed it to Lizzie Lacer. You beeline for anyone tying their shoes. You crawl over to any shoes left unattended. And usually, you grab the shoe, roll on your back and munch on the lace until someone intervenes. (I don't think this is considered BLW, Elle.) It has created the need for me to actually put my shoes away rather than leave them next to the door.

Yummy! Fiber.

I love this age, these stages, with you - you giggle and laugh at the silliest things, and we have wrestling matches on the bed. A coworker told me that you're like a toy for Tim and I. Maybe so, I said, but you're the most high-maintenance toy I've ever had :) You're just so much fun - I can't help myself. Seeing your reactions, your changes, your experiments and your personality make me all the more excited for the months and years to come. You get so excited about seeing Daddy or I, so curious about the noises you can make, so dramatic about the unfairness in your life, like the fact that you have to stay still for five seconds while we change your diaper. You've got a strong personality and a big heart, and I'm so very much looking forward to seeing them both grow.

You're the best thing that I've ever done.

Love you forever,
Mom