Dear Foster,
You turned 13 months old on the 21st, but I am just now getting around to writing this letter to you. Sorry about that, but you and I have both been sick for nearly three weeks.
It started with you having a cold and progressed into both of us getting sinus infections and pink eye in BOTH eyes! We were both so sick that your daddy had to stay home from work for two days to help take care of us.
As if the infections themselves weren't bad enough, you developed an allergic reaction to the antibiotic and had to be taken off of it early. It's just as well, though, because we think it was a virus to begin with, and prefer not to have you on antibiotics anyway.
Despite this helluva few weeks, you are still such a delight. A talking, walking ball of energy.
I'm keeping track of all of the words you say (or TRY to say) and believe it or not, there are 39! That number doesn't even include the two word phrase you say all day long, "Da go?", as in, "Where'd daddy go?", or the baby signs you use.
I started saying "Where'd daddy go?" when we were all home together and he would leave the room to go get one thing or another. You caught on very quickly and started asking me, where in the heck has he gone this time?!
So now, all day long, while he's at work, you ask, "Da go?" And, all day long, while he's at work, I reply, "Daddy's at work."
This month I started to wean you, and boy has that been hard! For me, anyway.
You have handled it well, so far, but I can tell that the morning feeding is going to be hard to break. Of course, you've been sick, so we're not even trying, but just a glimpse of the sippy cup in your room first thing in the morning sends you over the edge. And by "over the edge" I mean, TEMPER TANTRUM!
I don't get it, you're one, not two, so what's with the temper, mister?
Distraction works wonders for you, so as you tailspin into a frenzy because you saw the sippy cup, or because the circle won't fit into the square hole, or because I don't understand what you're trying to say, I just whisk you up and take you to the window to look at all the birds, cars & trucks. And, whew, tantrum over.
Yes, you read that right, birds. You LOVE birds, and that is one of the other things you talk about ALL DAY LONG. I open the curtains in your room after each nap and "bird" is the first word out of your mouth. We spend a lot of time looking out the windows at the birds in our yard and trust me, there are a lot to look at. What, with our gigantic bird bath and all!
When you were 4 months old or so, we introduced you to Lovey Bear, a little lovey that some friends gave you when you were a newborn.
You had been swaddled up to that point, but once we stopped swaddling you, you needed something to do with your hands. Something to hold. Lovey Bear was the perfect fit. You held Lovey Bear when you slept and eventually began to suck and chew on him. He was your roommate, but that's as far as the attachment went.
NOT ANYMORE! Lovey Bear, who you have affectionately named, Bear-Bear, has become your right hand man and you don't let him out of your sight.
He sleeps with you, eats with you, plays with you, rides with you, and walks with you. If I forget to grab Bear-Bear, you eventually realize it and ask, "Bear-Bear?". I've tried to distract you, but you don't forget, and on more than one occasion I've had to take you out of your highchair in the middle of a meal to go get Bear-Bear.
It's very sweet, your attachment to Bear-Bear, but it's also sad for me because it seems to be getting stronger with every feeding you're weaned from. Is Bear-Bear replacing me?
I had no idea that weaning you would be so hard for me. It's not like it's a physical attachment. I mean, I don't even feel anything when you're nursing. It's purely emotional and I'm not sure I have words to describe it. Maybe I should join some kind of support group or go to rehab. Is there a twelve step program I can go through? "Hi, my name is Aron and I'm so sad to be weaning my baby."
You are officially walking now and when you walk, you say, "walk, walk, walk..." You're our little narrator.
Yes Foster, you're walking. Yep, that's a bird. You're right, that's Bear-Bear, there's Dada and I'm Mama. Oh, yeah, that's a light and there's the dog. Yes, the dog is barking. I hear the truck too. And the airplane. And the choo-choo train...
Your favorite book is a book about football and you request it every time we read. "Football, football, football..." You love football! Not just the book, but the actual ball and anything having to do with FSU.
Your daddy and I have lots of FSU shirts and every time we wear one you say "football" until we sing the FSU Fight Song. You even pump your arm at the end!
F-L-O-R-I-D-A-S-T-A-T-E! FLORIDA STATE, FLORIDA STATE, FLORIDA STATE, WOO!
Maybe one day you'll play football for FSU. And then for the NFL. And then you'll buy your daddy and I a house, and take care of us in our old age.
Until then, here's hoping for a healthy month ahead and as few falls as possible as you continue to walk, walk, walk...
xoxo,
Mama
