One of my online friends just did a post about their 3 year old, and I've been inspired.

Ingrid at 2.5 pretty much rocks.

This morning, she slept through til 7 in her own bed. That happens once or twice a week, the other nights there's a nightwaking anywhere between 1-5 where she ends up with us. (Which, we're totally okay with, as we're committed cosleepers at this point, and know that all too soon, she won't want to cuddle with us AT ALL.)  I had her fetch my PJ pants and slippers. ("Famlingo pants, mommy?") and we came downstairs to make muffins together. (The last time we made muffins, she didn't quite get it, and when I pulled the finished product out of the oven, her eyes got huge and she said "MAMA! LOOK! CUPCAKES!!!!") She put the liners in the muffin tin, dumped in the milk and egg, helped me stir, and helped sprinkle the sugar crumbles on top. "Is it gon' be YUMMY, mommy? Yeah?"

She's speaking in complete sentences, all of a sudden, it seems. When we were at my folks' for early thanksgiving, I'd send her up in the morning so Dave and I could sleep in. When we aren't around, she's a little quicker to talk to other people, and my parents were blown away when one of the first things she said was "That cat is looking at you."    

She's working on figuring out the potty — she really, really wants to wear underpants, and is having lots of near misses — she's figuring out what it means to pee, and will announce her pees…. as they happen. She pooped on her little potty a few days ago (the last poop we've seen) after lots of tears and fear and me saying "do you want a diaper?" and her insisting she could use the potty.  It was this huge feat of courage for her, really, and she was so PROUD when it was done. "I made that big poop! It came out my bum!"

She has some words that I love — Christmas Tree is Kimasymsys Tree, Sesame Street is Semasee Street. Instead of "little while," she says "minute-while." ("I'm going to go in me bedroom for a minute while!") There is a difference between a cuddle and a snuggle, in Ingrid's world, but I've yet to figure it out. "NO CUDDLE, mama, SNUGGLE." She observes EVERYTHING, pointing out the grocery store and the airport and any animal that passes by. She saw Petco from a huge, huge distance, and wanted to go see the "cat and dog store."

When we went to the grocery store last night, Dave and I were talking about things-not-Ingrid, and continued our convo as we got out of the car, and poor Ing thought we were forgetting HER, and started calling "I'm in the car! I'm in the car, Daddy!" She loves circling the airport ("air-pert") after a grocery run (they are across the street from each other, and it's mostly on the way home…) and looking for planes. She could give you directions from a handful of places back to "Ingrid's House," if she was in the backseat.

A few weeks ago, I wrestled with our ISP a little bit before they relented on replacing our modem, but I had to get there by 5, and it was 4:45. We live, literally, around the corner, so I said "'kay, ingrid, we're going for a ride!" and hustled her into the car. Now, every time we drive by the ISP office, which is every day, as it's between daycare and our house, she says "There's the ride, mama! There's the ride, right over there!"

Tonight at dinner, I put lasagna on her plate. She didn't want it there. "Spit it out, mama! SPIT IT OUT!"

Chocolate is three distinct syllables, and she loves it.

Two weeks ago, in the space of a week, she figured out how to use the footstool and her brute strength to access basically anything in the kitchen. She can now open the fridge, and the pantry, and get her own stuff. (THere are pros and cons.) Today, she wanted "cereal on a plate!" and took her plate to the kitchen, got into the pantry, got the cereal, took a handful or two, closed the box, put the box back into the pantry, closed the door, and came back to the living room. Whoa.

She watches some TV now, after spending 2+ years with only Saturday and Sunday morning Sesame Street as her tv diet, and then, she didn't care too much, but it bought us a little time to drink our coffee — the parenting version of "sleeping in." The Roku has allowed us to access some decent (ad-free!) stuff, and she is now totally devoted to the movie Annie. She sings the songs, she wants to see it, she loooooves it. She likes Sesame Street okay, too, but Annie is her heroin. She also loves King of the Hill, and specifically Bobby Hill, whom she calls "Da Boy!" If that show is on, it's "where's da boy? where's da boy? [scene with Bobby] dere's da boy! dere he is!" Also, America's Funniest Videos, which Dave has determined a post-bath family ritual now. She bathes at 7, and we watch the end of "People all fall down show." She LOVES it.

Other phrases: if you walk in from going to the store "DID you have fun at the store, mama/daddy?" Sometimes, randomly "Have a good weekend!"

One morning in bed: "Daddy a Zebra. Ingrid a walrus and a fish." –"What is Mama?" "Mama."

She's starting to love on her babies and stuffed animals (finally, we have enough!) and the other day set up two stuffed animals at her table, gave them each playdoh and pieces of fake food. SWOON.

On daycare, she says she likes "Art" and "kindermusik." When I went with her on Wednesday to kindermusik, she was slow to warm to the class — I think she was a little confused since I was there — but all weekend she's said that her favorite part of kindermusik is "Owen." Who, because I went to a class this week, I know is a kid in the class above hers. Like a Senior to her Sophomore status. Whoa.

She loves to help — helped me with the muffins this morning, and helped me clean this afternoon. I was doing surfaces with a rag and some method cleaner, and she went to the kitchen to get her own washcloth (oh, right! Washcloth is pronounced "Lockoff" which we have changed to "the russian General Lokov" which is now abbreviated at bath time to "we need the General!" when they need a washcloth.) and then helped me wipe down surfaces.

I boxed up a bunch of her baby toys, which is so bittersweet. I love the big girl she's becoming, but I am mourning her babyhood. She calles her baby dolls "Little Stister" these days, and I just long to have a second, but we are holding off for a bit. If money were no object, it'd be a no brainer. As it is, we just have to wait a little longer….

It's been such a great 5 day vacation (that I didn't have to use any time for! Banking that, in hopes for a second..) and I just wish we could 'retire early' and hang out like this all the time. It was low key, but we got so much done, and we had so much fun just being together with no commitments. I'm excited for christmas, for Ing to be even more into it this year, and to see how she likes Christmas morning and her toys (which I'm pretty sure she'll love — the Ikea easel I got over a year ago, that's never been brought up, and a "my first dollhouse" that one of her friends got, and she loved, and she is still gravitating to dollhouses in toy stores) and to just hang out and have fun. I can't wait.

OH, one more thing: She's so well-mannered! She says please and thank you (actually, Shank You, which cracks me up and makes me think she's going to stab us in the neck with a modified plastic spork) and "Scuse me please!" when she wants to get by. She gets M and N confused a bit, so loves "Newsik" (music) and also has some L/R confusion, and I'm bl
anking on the specific word, but might say "Gleen" for Green.

Dear Ingrid,

Unbelievably, you are one year old today. I spent the last few days looking at the clock and remembering specifics of your entry to the world, remembering eating at Wendy’s with your dad, watching The Amazing Race, getting put off for induction on the 18th, over and over again. Today, I looked at the clock and did it more often… 5:45, wasn’t that about when we went to the labor room? And around 7, I think that’s when we called Amy. At 1:30, I’m pretty sure that everyone in our room was napping around then, 4:30, pushing alone with Aunt Amy and your Dad, 5:23… 5:23, when you were officially, definitely one year old. Now, as I write this, at almost 8, I think I was settled in my recovery room, marveling at your long wrinkly feet with your dad. Or haplessly attempting to put you in a newborn sleeper gown we brought from home, not daring to try too hard, for fear of breaking you, and eventually giving up, because pulling the gown over your head proved too difficult. All of those brand new parent worries, and now we’re pulling you out of potted plants and baby swings.

This year has flown by, your babyhood dissolving into toddlerhood, daily, and I’ve tried so hard to savor every minute, remember every detail, without accidentally working so hard to remember what just happened that I don’t see what’s happening right now. For instance, right now you are on the floor, squealing at the kitty, spinning around from new toy to new toy, clapping your feet together happily. One new toy is a ride-on thing with a seat that lifts up to put things in. (And a very loud set of sound effects, that have already been dulled by packing tape over the speaker.) You like to put things in, so you’ve been doing that, and then you spin around to a toy that has those pop-up things – push a lever, something pops up and makes a noise. And even now, in writing that, you’ve moved on to playing with the cell phone that came with your riding toy, holding it to your ear, babbling, and then handing it back to your dad, taking turns. It goes. so. fast. Before I had you, people said that, but I had no idea what they really meant until you got here. In a blink, you are one.

At one, you are now crawling — a new development in the last two weeks and still not employed at full capacity, as you find your butt/hand/knee pivot to be a quicker way to maneuver about. You try to pull up, and get up on your knees, but can’t quite get to your feet. You have 6 teeth that we can see, and we keep thinking you’re teething the last week or so, but haven’t yet seen proof. You love to read, and be read to, and you’ve mastered the art of pointing, clapping, and waving. You are working on the “roooooolll it” part of “Pat a Cake,” especially when Grammy S visits.

This month, you attended my master’s hooding, and spent 3 hours happily content in the stands of the Alfond. It took you a minute to recognize me in regalia, after. When I actually finished my degree, you were there, my advisor holding you in her lap in the education lab as I presented my information. And before that, I first felt you kick in the ed lab, my morning sickness was satisfied with bowlfuls of fresh pineapple in the union, and even before that, it was on campus, getting pre-semester stuff taken care of with Uncle Andy, that I had my first inklings of you. I remember telling Andy, walking by the MCA, “I’m about 90% sure I’m feeling the same way I did last time…” I didn’t even want to tell your dad, because our earlier experience had shaken us so, that I didn’t want to get him excited or nervous without proof. But that day, I knew. You’re beginnings are closely tied to my university, and finishing my degree and becoming a mother are two of my proudest accomplishments, two things that have brought me incredible satisfaction and joy.

Today, for your birthday, we didn’t do much. I had to work at a graduation with Grammy and Grampy S, and Grammy G and your local Aunties came and visited while I was gone. Your dad and I got you a wagon, your grandparents got you an ear thermometer and a savings bond (our practical gift-giving is generations old, my bug) and you grammy and aunties brought you some toys and clothes. Even the neighbors brought you a toy, remembering that it was your first birthday. I made cupcakes for you, a spice cake mix and a cream cheese frosting, and you liked the frosting but were a little iffy on the cake. No big parties, no extravagant gifts, but that’s okay.

For a while now, when you feel especially lovey, if you’re facing me, in my lap, you’ll tip your forehead down until it meets mine, and you’ll look over the top of my glasses and into my eyes, and rock your head back and forth, and smile. We call it the forehead kiss, and you don’t just forehead-kiss me, but others as well. It’s such a weird little quirk, so very Ingrid, and I love it. When your grandparents were watching you last week, they said you forehead-kissed a stuffed bunny. Someday, you’re going to learn how to kiss for real, and you’ll probably drop the forehead kiss from your repertoire, but it is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced, to have my daughter’s eyelashes almost touching mine, seeing her grin in my peripheral vision, her eyes sliding closed, contentedly, and then leaning back, having been reset, ready to wiggle off to play with something else, to point at daddy’s hat, to make mama’s hands clap, to lunge for the kitty.

I love you Ingrid. Happy Birthday.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

You are 11 months old today?!  I’m not sure how that happened so fast, I say it every month, but really, it’s incredible.

You managed to avoid the flu that felled your dad and I, and when daddy was sick with pneumonia, I got to get you up and off to daycare in the morning. It was nice to see how happy you are when you’re dropped off, and how happy your teachers are to see you. 

We also went to the mountain for the first time with you. The last time I was there, you were just about ripe, and we danced to the Violent Femmes in the base lodge. This time, daddy and I both started to get sick, and we never left — but your Grammy bundled you up and took you on a tour of the base village.

You still aren’t crawling, but you’re moving…. you sit on your bottom and use your heels and knees to pivot around, and now you can pinwheel around the floor to get from one place to another. You can also scoot backwards on your belly, but you don’t really like that, because you REALLY want to be moving TOWARDS something, and your movements just end up putting you farther away. But, while learning about that, you also learned how to get yourself up into a sitting position.

In fact, your daycare teachers saw that move yesterday, 4/18, and wrote it on your daily report, along with the time: 2:52 pm, because they were so excited. They couldn’t wait for me to read it, and couldn’t wait to share, and when I read it, I said "oh, yeah, she did that last night." In retrospect, I feel kind of bad. While one of the cons of being a working mama is that I’m likely to miss some firsts, I think that your teachers might be excited to see your firsts, too. They take such good care of you, and genuinely adore you. (In fact, I’ll probably laugh about this one day, but my main concern these days about daycare is that I worry that they love you too MUCH, which is right on par with my worry that you had some dread disease that had Excessive Smiling as a symptom…)

You are feeding yourself, mostly, these days. You love frozen blueberries, and your veggie puffs, and the new one is cheese… when I pull cheese from the fridge, you start kicking your legs and breathing fast, and the cat magically appears next to your highchair. You also like peas, gardenburger, peaches and pears, pancakes, crackers, and yogurt.

Today was the first beautiful spring day of the season. Yes, it was pretty late, but it was worth it. When Daddy came home, we pulled out your stroller (it’d been months since it’d been used!) and we did our standard neighborhood route. You were comfy in your stroller, and we saw a few neighbors. It was just so nice to be smelling the fresh air, spotting a flower blooming in the yard, and walking with you, so much bigger than your first walk, almost a year ago.  And next month, you’ll be ONE. I don’t know how that happened.

I Love you Ingrid!

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

You are 10 months old! I don’t know how that happened, each month sneaks up on me and races by, and I’m in a constant state of amazement whenever I look at you.

This month, books continued to enthrall you. You have a bin full of board books under our coffee table, and a bin full of toys, and you consistently go for the books first. You especially love books with flaps, and you open each one on each page. We’ve even had to repair your very favorite book, "Where is baby’s belly button?" because you got a little too eager with "Behind the Cup!"  You’ve discovered a haunted house board book that daddy got you at halloween, where each page has many, many flaps, and you like that one second best. And in some books, you get annoyed when a picture of a door doesn’t  turn out to be a flap. 

When we read to you, and there’s a cat in the book, you look for our cat. "Bear at Home" has a black and white kitty on each page, and when we say "where’s the kitty?" you look for FatKitty, and when we say "where’s the kitty in the book?" you point at the one on the page. It really blows our mind, how fast your brain is growing.

You started to wave this month, and in the car on our way to Portland, I could see you, seeing me, between our mirrors (vanity & carseat) and if I waved, you’d wave back.

You’ve been teething and still have a cough, and a fever had you home from daycare for a few days. I spent the first day with you, and Daddy spent the second, and it was your first day all alone with Daddy, ever. You both had a good time — while you’re sort of a crankenmonster with the teeth, you do well with distraction, and your trip with Daddy to the grocery store garnered lots of comments, I hear. You also went to the park for a (very windy) first swing of the year.

Your daycare teachers continue to comment on your sparkling personality, how you love books (there, too!) and love to dance. You love to eat your puffs, and you loooooove avocado, and now, bits of string cheese. When mama gets a string cheese from the fridge, you and the cat both vibrate with excitement. You also had your first ever Scholastic Book Club order form, which mama dutifully filled out and returned, of course.

You’re still not interested in crawling, something about looking at the floor being the most boring, awful form of torture, ever. But you pivot with ease now, and have a reach my former yoga instructor would revel in in terms of flexibility. You can dig your heels in and pull the bins out from the coffee table (Must! GET! BOOKS!) and if we stand you against a table (or, at daycare against the mirror) you will happily balance there (with supervision) for a while.  While you’re not into attempting to crawl, you are into attempting to levitate, and when you want to be Someplace Else, you will wave your little arms in the air and kick your feet, just hoping to fly to your next destination. 

You are growing so fast, your cheeks are starting to deflate and thin out, your body is starting to become more proportionate, and your brain is clearly growing at a rapid pace. I now understand why people are so fond of babies, because babyhood is such a flash, it’s like watching a train race by, trying to read the details on each boxcar. Just as you’ve read one, two have passed, and it’s impossible to keep up. Babies turn so quickly to toddlers, and then to kids, and this time is so sweet and fast, that everyone wants to try to catch a glimpse.

I’m so lucky to have so many glimpses, each day.

I love you, Ingrid.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

I am so very late in writing to you about your 9 month birthday, because February 2007 will be remembered as The February of the Plague, with our whole little family wrestling with one illness or another all month. In fact, your nine month birthday highlight was the first time daycare called to have me pick you up, as you had a fever of 102.5, and weren’t acting much like yourself. I picked you up, and that evening was spent with Daddy taking care of both of us, as I got desperately sick, too. The next day, daddy stayed home in the morning to make sure we were all okay, and you and I cuddled on the couch for much of the day.

Your ninth month has also found you with two new teeth, on the top, flanking the front teeth that emerged last month.  You’ve also started to use your teeth a bit, enjoying the satisfying crunch of biting one of you beloved fruit puffs in half. You also liked eating an avocado wedge, and now my quest to find another decent avocado (in Maine, in February) is on. Unfortunately, the last few trips to the store only found withered, gray looking things. Yuck.

You continue to thrive at your childcare. The caregivers are so wonderful to you, reading you stories and taking you in buggy rides. They genuinely adore you, and our first Valentine from School was made with their assistance — your little handprint smudged across a heart shaped doily. I can only imagine the challenge of making that happen!

You’ve started to ‘talk,’ repeating sounds, mamamamama, dadadadada, nununununu. In the bath, you read us your bath book, turning the pages one by one, babbling in a very serious way, and pointing at the illustrated creatures.  You have learned how to Put Things In, and will dump your blocks from their canister and drop them back in. You also have started to Do Things Back, like if I put a block in my mouth, and you take it out, you will feed it back to me. Or, if we’re playing Where’s Ingrid? with a receiving blanket, you will try to re-cover your own head.

You continue to amaze us every day, with your giant personality. There is so much that we can see of your newborn days, and so much that has changed.  You now weigh 18 pounds, and are 27.25 inches long, putting you squarely at the 50th percentile, but your head is at the 90th. (That comes from my side of the family. We all have big heads.) You make every day better, in some way.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

Today you are 8 months old, and it was our last weekday at home, just you and me, before you start daycare on Monday. It snowed, and we picked up Grandma and Grandpa from the airport, both of them way more interested in seeing you than me, or their car, or anything else. In fact, I had to tell you grandpa to "please, turn around and sit in your seat!" because he was so excited to see you after a 2 week hiatus.

I cannot believe how quickly you change, and yet how much of that tiny baby I held in my arms for the first time, 8 months ago, can be seen in you, still. You love to sit, have no interest in crawling, but you love to talk to us now. We’ve spent the last two weeks screeching in tune with each other, or having long conversations of "eh?" being volleyed back and forth.

You know what my glasses are, now, and in the mornings when we wake up, you get so excited to see me put them on.  I’ve even started letting you get my glasses. I fly you over to the nighstand, and you study all the temptations on it, and when I say "Get mama’s glasses!" you forgo the remote, the receipts, the post-it pad, the lotion tube and the pill bottle, and reach out your fingers like a little restaurant-lobby-claw game, plucking my glasses from the pile and then, of course, trying to eat them.

You have a favorite book, it seems. "Where is baby’s bellybutton?" is the first one you seem to recognize as having a value beyond "delicious," and you have quickly learned how to pull back the flaps. I left the room for a few minutes the other day (easy to do when you don’t crawl yet!) and came back to find that you’d found the book amongst your toys, opened it on your lap rightside up (granted, that was probably a fluke), and looking at the faces and talking to the babies on the pages. "Eh! Eh! EEEEEEpffffff Eh?" 

In this month, you celebrated your first Christmas, and your first New Year. There was lots of happiness: aunt kate was so happy to see you, and you’d grown so much! And you saw all of your cousins on your dad’s side on Christmas Eve, and Grandma and Grandpa were with us for Christmas day. There was sadness too, with our cousin Colson’s death, and the funeral that followed. And in between those events, you were sick, and had your first ER visit (luckily, just a fever).  In sad times, though, you managed to bring smiles to so many faces.

You start daycare on Monday, for-real daycare this time, not like the campus daycare situation. Your caregivers seem kind and smart and caring, and the building and grounds are beautiful. I hope that I find a job that offers some flexibility, because I will miss our storytimes and massage class. I will especially miss lazy mornings, with you getting a nurse-up in the big bed before we start the day, and after Daddy has left.  Those quiet moments are the ones that I carry with me at all times, the ones I hope to never forget, the ones that make me content to be Ingrid’s Mama. In those moments, my degrees don’t matter, my looks, my income, my weight — in those moments I am exactly the person I’ve always wanted to be, with the person I always wanted to be with, I just didn’t know it yet.

I love you, Ingrid.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

You spent almost your entire 6th month as a charge at the campus daycare center. I was nervous about taking you, worried about how you’d do with feeding and sleep, and I knew I’d miss you, but daycare was a good place to have you while I worked on campus to finish my own schoolwork. In fact, daycare went so well, that I actually felt guilty at pulling you out — yes, me, your pretty damn crunchy mama, who nurses you and wraps you and curls up face to face with you in the big bed in the early morning, I felt guilty.

You are such a social butterfly, always grinning from ear to ear, so happy to see people! of any kind! that having hours on end of not only people, but also of babies, well, that was okay by you. You and other babies about your age would sit and look at each other, and reach out to hold each other’s hands, or to grab each other’s sleeves or to bang excitedly on the beadpath toy.  In fact, on your very last day, you were craning to see your caregivers over my shoulder as we left. The caregivers all said that you were a happy girl, and I’m so glad that you are a happy bug.

Today, you went with me so that I could present & defend my portfolio to complete my master’s degree. My advisor held you on her lap, and you would bend yourself sideways and in half to try to catch the eyes of students as they came in. The staff in the education building were so excited to see you, too — they watched me grow big as I was carrying you, and just a few days after I waddled out for the last time as a GA, you arrived. I found out about you the weekend before I started at the university as a full time grad student, and it’s sort of fitting that you were there to see me finish my degree.

In your own world, you still like to sit, and you still could care less about rolling or crawling. You WILL roll, but only out af frustration, really, and you haven’t yet figured out that rolling could be a way of getting nearer to the cat. I’m sure you will soon.  You seem to still be working onthose top two teeth, just when I think they are going to come through…. they don’t. I’m sure it won’t be long for that, either.

I’m so glad to have this time with you. This afternoon, I wrapped you up so we could go shopping, and it felt so good to have you tucked up close to me again. With the busy-ness of this last month, you’ve had a lot of time with your daddy, but we haven’t been out hardly at all! I’m so happy to be done with my work and school, and while I am looking for a job, I’m going to treasure the next few days and weeks, where it’s just Ingrid and Mama, cuddled up together in Target once again.

Your aunt kate is coming on Friday, to celebrate your first christmas with us. Grammy and Grampy will be here, too, and while it will be busy, it will be fun, and made so much more special with you here. When we bring you in to bed to sleep, usually every morning by 5, and when you’ve been sick, all night for a few nights, you like to reach out and touch one of us, for reassurance, I think.  And as you’ve gotten bigger, the cat has started to cuddle up to you, too, so that sometimes your daddy and I look across to each other and if the cat has wormed her way in, you almost always have a grip on her in some way, as you sleep. A sleeping Ingrid, clutching a sleeping fatkitty’s tail, well, it’s pretty damn cute.

We love you so much, and you are growing so fast. I can’t believe you’ve tipped past the half-year mark, and I know, I KNOW that your first birthday will come upon us like a freight train. I hope I can remember the sweet moments between now and then, and forever after.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

Today you are a whole half-year old. We can hardly believe it!  It seems like the last 6 months have flown by…. and that they’ve lasted forever. I can hardly believe that my little Buggy-Girl is you, and that you are so wonderful.

This month, you started to sit up on your own, really well. Of course, now that you can sit up, you have no interest in lying down or rolling over, so we figure you’ll go to college at UM and one of us will come by at night to turn you over when you need it.

You also started solid foods. We still aren’t sure what you think of those — you’ll eat them, but every spoonful makes your face wrinkle in a manner that clearly says "what the hell is that?" but you continue to open for a few bites.  I took pictures of you, just before your first cereal, though, because I can hardly believe that my body has brought you from 2 cells, dividing, to this laughing, happy, wonderful baby that I have today.  I wanted to document the little rolls and your ‘spare knees’ and those big soft cheeks, just ripe for the kissing.

We’ve settled into a nice little life, the three of us. Every day, Daddy comes home at lunch to see his girls, and after that you and I usually do something — go to Target, or the post office, or to the grocery store. We go to Mother Goose every Wednesday morning, and that is a highlight of the week. We like to sit near Jackson, and this week we cheered him on as he practiced his lurching crawl. On Fridays, we usually go to baby massage, where the mamas talk and the babies look at each other, and sometimes, babies get massaged.

Tomorrow, though, you start at the university daycare so that I can finish my master’s degree. I’m nervous (they have your crib on the lit, baby filled, playside of the room, and I worry that you’ll never sleep with that view!) as I should be, but I think you’ll be fine. I worry that they’ll overfeed you, or mess with your sleep, or just ignore you for no good reason. That’s fairly irrational, but I DO know that once my degree is finished, I’ll be about 90% less anxious in general, and that will be good for all of us.

Your first thanksgiving is this week, and grampy will be letting us borrow the good camera to capture it. Grammie bought you a winter dress, and we’re going to take some photos for a New Year’s card, and I know that by the time those get sent, you’ll be a newer version of yourself, again. Every month, every week, every day you evolve and change and miraculously get even better than before. It is amazing to watch.

I am so lucky to have had you all to myself for six months, so, so lucky. And I will be so happy to see you tomorrow afternoon — your two bottom teeth, your open-mouthed grin, your little hands waving in the air as you pant with excitement.

I love you, Ingrid!

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

Today you are 5 months old. I have no idea how that happened, how you steamrolled right through summer and on into fall, and have arrived here, at 5 months old.

This was a big month for you, you sprouted two teeth, and are learning to sit up, getting better at it every day. You’ve started to develop preferences for toys, liking your crunchy snail rattle thing the best.

Really, you only love it because it sounds like your very favorite toy, which is a breadbag, which we let you gnaw on while we prepare dinner and you observe from your Bumbo. Breadbags are Not Safe and certainly Not Approved as  developmentally appropriate toy, so we limit your exposure.

You also started rolling this month; you’d flipped yourself once or twice, but now you actively know how to roll. We’ve pushed the coffee table back and laid out a blanket, and hanging out on the blanket with your soft toys and some books is one of the ways you spend your time.

You have an exersaucer, now, which lets you enjoy the world from on high. It also puts you at eye-level to the cat’s chair, and you love the kitty. We are trying to teach you to ‘be gentle,’ but hey, you’re 5 months old and cats are furry and probably delicious, in your mind, but luckily, the kitty is pretty understanding of your age and curiosity.

You like to blow raspberries, and have started squealing and babbling as well. You will work very hard to pick up your toys to get them in your mouth. You go from silly to serious in the blink of an eye, it seems.

From the beginning, you’ve been a pointer, gesturing in any direction with no meaning, and watching that index finger grow has been magical. You’re almost twice as big as you were when we brought you home, and your personality is changing exponentially each day.  You know us as well as we know you, and the highlights of your day are waking up, and when daddy comes home. You love taking in the world around you, and we love showing it to you.

And for all that I love about being your mother, it makes me think, too, about being a daughter. I have a different perspective on my own daughter-hood, and while I have — and still do — find my own mother challenging at times, I wonder if one day, you will be rolling your eyes at the things I do, or say, or if you’ll hate me for a period of time, and if that happens, I hope that someday, you see what I saw. I hope that someday, I get to stand back, and watch you take a picture of your baby’s toes curled around your daddy’s hands, and be struck by how much a simple photo can convey.

I love you, Ingrid.

Love, Mama

Dear Ingrid,

Sorry about last month. We spent your 3 month birthday (and your Daddy’s 31st birthday) (and your Grandma and Grandpa’s 34th anniversary) at the lake, eating sandwiches and cookies and swimming and water-biking and doing all kinds of fun stuff that was far, far, away from Mama’s iBook.  You didn’t like the cold water, so much, but you did like napping in your sun tent, and Mama and Daddy enjoyed going for a bike ride while Grandma and Grandpa watched you sleep. Next summer, you will be big enough to splash around, and maybe even wear a life jacket and go on the bikes with us.

In the last week or so, it seems you’re getting ready to sprout your first tooth. You had some hard nights, where you needed to nurse 5 and 6 times, but you’re getting better, we think. Your nose is runny, and you have a bit of a chin rash, and you really don’t like the snot-sucker at all, but I guess it will be worth it to have your very own tooth. It makes mama a little sad to lose the gummy grin so early, but that’s what mamas have to get used to.

You’ve rolled over a few times, unattended, and out of sight, but we’ve found you on your back once or twice, and we didn’t put you there. (Because you can roll over, and because your head control is so strong, we now feel safe to put you on your belly, which is your preferred position.. just like mama!)

We’ve had to retire some of your first toys. Your bouncy seat has been set aside, in favor of your new exersaucer, and while you haven’t yet exactly figured out is that YOU are moving yourself in a circle, and when you realize you are looking in a new direction, you get very excited. Once you figure out the bouncy-bounce part, I think you’ll be extra-super excited.

This month, mama went back to school and started a new job, which meant that you and Daddy now have more alone time than before, and that you have a sitter once a week. It’s going well, though, and you seem to like Miss Sara okay, and of course you are your Daddy’s number one fan, so any time with him is going to be alright for you! On the weekends, we have been doing family stuff — picnics at the waterfront, hanging out in the hammock, going for walks in the woods — all fun stuff that is so muchbetter with baby Ingrid around.

Your personality is bubbling up every day. You wake up so happy, joining mama and daddy in bed and sitting up against us, smiling so broadly the backs of your ears almost touch, it seems. You love to snuggle, and you love when FatKitty gets on the bed with us. You two are getting acquainted, you both look at each other with fascination, each thinking "If I could fit you into my mouth, I totally would."  FatKitty doesn’t mind it when you grab her fur or her paw, and she loves when she gets a mama-guided ear scratch from baby Ingrid.

You are growing and changing so fast, and sometimes I just want to freeze time, freeze these moments and just stay here forever, soaking in all the joy you find in simple things like the sun through the trees or the first feel of soft fur under your hands. But that’s not what being a mama is about, being a mama is about trying to remember those moments as best she can, and trying to make sure to see the wonder everyday.

I don’t have many (good) pictures this month, having Grandpa’s D70 for so long has spoiled us terribly, but I am trying to take more pictures every day. So, instead of photos, here is a video of your giggle. You laugh like an old man, I think, with a hint of sarcasm.  I always wondered what my baby’s laugh would sound like, when it arrived, and now I know: perfect.

Ingrid Giggles

Love, Mama