Maggie, Month Eleven

My dear, sweet Magoodle-pie,

I kinda put off writing this post, because ELEVEN? How the hell did that happen? How did you get to be eleven months old already kiddo? Well, here goes nothing.

You have really grown a lot this month. First off, you've discovered electronics. Remotes and phones are at the top of your must have list these days, and no decoys will do. No matter how realistic they are, you always prefer the real thing to the toy/no-longer-in-use version. This frustrates your siblings to no end, because you always manage to find the TiVo remote while they're watching something. Once you get a hold of it, the show gets fast forwarded, rewound and put on slow-mo with no regard to the viewers. But if they take the remote from you, you cry, and nobody likes it when you cry. So they cry. It's a vicious cycle.

You have six teeth now, which is apparently the perfect amount for eating crackers, but not soft pieces of fruit or carrots. What's up with that? You will happily chow down on anything dry and carb-ish, but if I dare to feed you baby food that isn't pureed within an inch of its life? You spit it out. At least you're cute, right?

So for the first ten months of your life you adored me over all others. You tolerated your father as long as I wasn't around, and you liked your brother and sister ok, but I was the one who buttered your toast. But then, out of nowhere, you discovered your Nunni. And now? I'm chopped liver when she's visiting. Never in my life have I been so totally and thoroughly rejected by one of my own children in their infancy. When she's here she can't even go to the bathroom, because you wail inconsolably, even in the arms of your adoring mother. While it kind of dashes my heart into a million little pieces, it's worth it to see the look on my mother's face when she's with you.

You're not walking yet (thank the heavens) but you cruise, crawl and walk with assistance like a pro. You can stand up by yourself, but not if you think about it too hard. You can shake your head 'yes' and 'no', play peek-a-boo, give kisses, pat your hand over your mouth to make funny noises, say 'mama' clearly and with intention, and you can demand that I sing 'If You're Happy and You Know It' on an endless loop by clapping your hands. Once someone starts singing it to you, it's all over. You'll just keep clapping, getting more and more angry, until they continue. It's kind of funny, really, to see you super-ultra pissed off, but still clapping insistently.

The little girl in you is starting to shine through. Even though I'll miss my baby Maggs more than I can say, I'll love my toddler Maggs more than enough to make up for it. Even if I still can't say exactly what color your eyes are!

Love, Mama