12 months. 365 days. 8765 hours. It's easy to define your existence in calendar terms, but it's almost impossible to put into words how much my life changed when yours began.
It wasn't long ago that you were merely a thought- a piece of the puzzle that was my future. A "someday". Then you turned into a plan, and a few months later a bean-shaped thing with a heartbeat. Now you are almost too heavy to rock to sleep. You point and laugh and push me away when I try to kiss your forehead. Somewhere between waking up three times a night and putting locks on all the cabinet doors, you grew up.
Of course, I still have many years left of being your mom, but you are a baby no longer. There is nothing like the first year full of firsts. You will get bigger and smarter and need me less. You will fall asleep on your own, walk to school, and roll your eyes when I remind you to wear sunblock. You will turn into the child, then the teenager, and finally the adult I always hoped you would be. My heart will swell with pride at who you've become,but also clench with sadness, because I will remember when you needed me. When you tugged on my leg, reached for me, and said "up, mama".
I want to freeze time and drink in every little thing about you at this very moment. The way your hair smells after a bath.The way you kick your legs in excitement when I strap you into your tricycle. The way your eye lids flutter when you've just fallen asleep. The way you examine every little leaf at the park. The sound of your voice. There will come a day when I will struggle to remember the way you crinkle up your nose when you smile, or the squeal you make when you hear the garage door open at 5:00. Soon there will be math homework and soccer practice and prom. Soon we will be too busy to remember the little things. The important things.
I wish you could understand how grateful I am for this past year. You've given us more joy than we've ever thought possible. You've helped me realize things about myself I never would have discovered otherwise and you've motivated me to grow and change. I knew becoming a mom would change my life forever, but I didn't realize to what extent. My entire definition of love changed the day you were born, and it's not one I can even attempt to put into words. You will forever be a part of me, and I am a part of you. This is what it means to be a parent- to have a piece of you that's separate from you. To have a walking, talking piece of your heart living outside of you.
I am looking forward to watching you grow and change in the next year. If this first year taught me anything, it's to live in the moment and enjoy the little things, because in the end, the little things end up being the big things. Everyday that I get to be your mom is the best day of my life. Thank you for the best 12 months, 365 days, and 8765 hours.
For me?
You were sick for the first time this month. You had a fever for three days straight. I sent this picture to daddy when you finally showed signs of improving.
Goofing off at the park.
You love when daddy pushes you around in the laundry basket.
Waving to random strangers at the airport before our trip to Dallas.
You, me, and your great-grandpa, "Boppa". Thanks to Auntie Whitney, you learned how to say "Boppa" during our trip to Dallas.
Walking around outside of Auntie Mary's apartment in Dallas. You were introduced to fire ants on this walk.
Me, you, and Auntie Katie.
You finally got to meet Olivia, the daughter of mommy's best friend from college.
Your grandparents brought you this outfit from Brazil. It finally fits, and it brought Sao Paulo good luck- they won the day you wore it.
Before trick-or-treating. You were the only cutest pumpkin on the block.
I'm If you're wondering why I haven't posted much in the last week, I present to you exhibit A:
Rory is about one week away from her first birthday, which means she is in the midst of her fussy period before her next developmental leap, occurring around week 55. I've posted about The Wonder Weeks before and how helpful it is when Rory seems to be regressing or extremely fussy because it helps me realize that there is a biological reason behind the craziness. Whenever I notice her exhibiting the three C's: crying, clinging, and crankiness, I do a quick google search, and without fail, she is in the middle of one of the fussy, "stormy" periods that signal the next big mental leap. There have been a few fussy periods that have made me want to pull her my hair out, but nothing like this one. It makes sense that this is the worst one. It is signaling the end of the baby stage and the beginning of the toddler one. She is beginning to walk, talk, and really notice how things work. Her brain is hard at work. But even though I know there's a logical reason for the way she's acting, I still want to curl up into a ball and sleep until this fussy period is over.
My mellow, good-natured baby has turned into a crying, clinging mess. She wakes up crying, goes to bed crying, and often sobs in between bites at meal times. (This is not an exaggeration.) She needs to be entertained and distracted constantly, and even when we're in the middle of a very engaging game of stack the blocks or throw the puzzle pieces, she randomly bursts into tears and throws her arms around my neck. It's all very Britney Spears circa 2007. (Minus the shaved head.)
In case that analogy didn't quite paint a picture for you, this morning, the only thing that made her happycontent not cry was holding her dirty diaper.* I'm not kidding. She insisted on sitting in front of the TV and just holding her soiled diaper. And not even throwing it or trying to unsnap it...just holding it. I know, it's beyond ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as the fact that I LET HER. After my first attempt of prying the diaper out of her hands resulted in her throwing herself on the floor and writhing around like she was being exorcised, I let it go. The phrase "choose your battles" has a whole new meaning for me.
I feel like I have a small insight into the world of an abused housewife. Marcos and I have been walking around on eggshells these past few days. Any little thing can set her off and there's absolutely no warning. Yesterday I actually tiptoed behind her to go upstairs and brush my teeth once she was finally occupied with her board books. When I reached about the fourth step, it occurred to me that I'm terrified of my daughter. (Also, our stairs are squeaky.) On Saturday she threw a book in my face, but then became irrationally angry when I began to read it. I put it down and she cried harder. And then...out of nowhere she started laughing this deep belly laugh. It was psychotic.
The only thing keeping me going is knowing that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and once she's made it through this fussy period, I will be rewarded with a smarter, happier baby.
The 8th mental leap is known as the "World of Programs" this means that babies are beginning to understand activities that depend on what just happened, rather than patterns that repeat predictably. (Like the 7th mental leap, "World of Sequences".) This is definitely Rory right now. Her new favorite activity is dropping things down the stairs and watching them fall. She loves watching me do things around the house and has begun mimicking everything, from putting on my shoes to cleaning the floor with the dish towel.
According to "The Wonder Weeks" by Rijt and Plooij ...
Signs of week 55 include:
Spontaneous temper tantrums (Check)
Needs to be entertained more often (Check)
Cries more, and is cranky, moody, and grumpy (Triple check)
Loss of appetite (The only thing this kid will eat are veggie sticks. And don't let the name fool you, these things have zero nutritional value.)
Difficulty sleeping
May reach for a comfort object more often
Baby may be more mischievous (She threw my shoe down the stairs yesterday, so I gave her my best stern look and told her "no". She laughed in my face.)
New abilities after the leap include:
Comes to you with jacket because he wants to go out
Tries to dress herself
Pretends to bathe a doll or drive a car
(I understand her mind as at work and is making important connections, but that seems like a lot of crap to go through just for her to attempt putting on her own pants. Just saying.)
So, if you were wondering why I haven't been posting, or if you see my picture on a missing persons poster, you know why.
Narrowing this list down to ten people is pretty much impossible. So many people have influenced me...from my kindergarten teacher to the president of the United States. (Let me be clear...I'm talking about Bush, not Obama.) Some of these people I've never met, some I've known my whole life, and some I knew for only a short time. But the one thing that all of these people have in common is that they possess qualities that I admire. They are hard-working, selfless, courageous people. There are the usual suspects, like my parents (Yes, your grandparents influenced me, how could they not? They practically raised me), my college professors, and Kate Middleton. (She makes me want to dress better. And speak with a British accent.)
But mostly, my influence comes from everyday people with extraordinary strength, devotion, and dedication. Qualities that I hope to pass onto you. To me, there is nothing more inspiring and influential than someone who devotes their life to a cause that they truly believe in. I don't have to agree with the cause to find that kind of dedication admirable. Selflessness is something I struggle with, so I truly admire those who put others before themselves.
Hard work is another character trait I admire. I love hearing stories about people who overcome unbelievable odds to accomplish their goals, like marathon runners who were told they would never walk or a Harvard graduate who grew up on the streets. People who use setback and rejection as motivation serve as the best role models.
I'm all about cheering for the underdog (unless the underdog happens to be the Dallas Cowboys), and I love all sports movies, even though the plot is always the same: A rag tag team who no one believes in ends up winning the gold medal/super bowl/world series/little league championship with the help of an inspirational coach and some old fashioned hard work. Gets me every time. (If you've never seen Cool Runnings, Miracle on Ice, or The Mighty Ducks, stop reading this right now and go binge watch all three.) These stories don't make me want to train for the Olympics (I mean, seriously, have you seen me throw a ball?), they just inspire me to work hard and help me realize that nothing is impossible.
Okay, okay, get to the list, already.
1. Soldiers, Fire Fighters, Police Officers, etc.
I greatly admire anyone who has ever served in any branch of our military. There is nothing more selfless than sacrificing your life for the freedom/safety of others. I feel so strongly about this that if your school doesn't make Veteran's Day a holiday, you will be staying home that day in honor of the men and women who have died for our country.
2. Anyone who has worked hard to achieve their dreams.
I know this includes a lot of people, but I can't narrow it down to a few specific names, because I have been influenced by so many stories of single parents, immigrants, and people born with disabilities and financial hardships who overcame obstacles and persevered. Rory, never ever underestimate the power of hard work.
3. Those who stand up for what they believe in.
There are lots of examples of this: People who defied their parents/religion/culture to do what they believed to be the right thing. It happens everyday, from teenagers standing up to bullying, to citizens of war torn countries risking their lives to protect the rights of others. Not everyone can change the world, but I admire those who strive to make a difference in even just one person's life.
4. Parents
Except for the few awful parents out there, I admire anyone who has raised a child, especially those who do it alone. I realize now how difficult it is to bring a child into this world and mold them into productive members of society. Being a parent means you are always putting someone else before yourself- it is the ultimate act of selflessness. To say that you would die for someone and actually mean it, well, that's pretty admirable.
5. Teachers
Maybe I only feel this way because I was a teacher, but no one works harder than them. Teachers spend hours upon hours planning, grading, and worrying about the well-being of their students. They get paid next to nothing, but they love what they do. It's been said that the difference between resilient and non-resilient children is having one person who believes in them, and most of the time that one person was a teacher. A teacher's main job is to relay information, but they also inspire, encourage, and challenge. I hope that you have teachers who you will remember long after you leave their classrooms.
6. People who take action
Anyone can talk about the injustices of the world, but it takes a bigger person to actually do something about it. Starting a non-profit, donating time and money, or traveling to impoverished countries to help others with less resources are all actions that can be taken to help others. I am amazed when I hear about people who dedicate their entire lives to help others or champion a cause. Take Jane Goodall, for example. If she had chosen to simply complain about our lack of knowledge and treatment of the chimps over biscuits and tea (she's British), we wouldn't have the information or conservation efforts we have today.
7. People who have treated me badly
People can either have a positive influence on you, or a negative one. Unfortunately, there will be people in your life who treat you badly and make you question your beliefs, but it is up to you to turn negative experiences into important life lessons. Going through some of the hardest times in my life have helped me realize how important it is to treat others with kindness and respect. I have realized what kind of person I don't want to be, and more importantly, what kind of person I don't want to raise you to become. Every experience and every relationship, whether it be good or bad, has the potential to help you grow.
8. Positive People
I am very much a cynic realist, so I truly admire people who see the glass as half full and turn awful situations into positive experiences. People who view terminal illness, physical handicaps, or tragic events as an opportunity to make a positive impact on the world definitely have my respect and admiration.
9. George W. Bush
I mean, come on....
10. You
Rory, you more than anyone, have influenced and inspired me. I pray everyday that I can be someone you admire and look up to. I hope to be an example of kindness, courage, and perseverance.You make me want to be a better person and make the world a better place. And I hope that one day when asked who has inspired you, I am the first person who comes to mind.
I think I included 99.9% of the world population in the list above, so if I didn't mention you by name, don't worry, I'm pretty sure you fit into one of these categories.
I've never been a fan of anything requiring a group effort. I never played any team sports (or any sports for that matter) and I definitely wasn't a member of Girl Scouts or any other type of group organization. I was involved in academic competitions, but only individual ones. I was the kid in school who groaned every time a teacher assigned a group project. It's not that I'm antisocial or I couldn't get along with my peers, it's just that I always ended up doing all of the work. But not because my fellow group members didn't want to help, it's just that my 16 year-old self was convinced that nobody could do the work as well as she could. So, I would assign the cheerleader/goth/jock the task of making the poster with bubble letters while I did all of the actual research and report-writing.
This "I can do it all on my own" mentality lasted approximately 28 years...or until November 7th, 2013, the day Rory was born. Marcos and I attended twelve weeks of Bradley Method classes to prepare for Rory's birth. The Bradley Method is also referred to as husband-coached child birth, but I secretly openly laughed at this phrase. Men have no idea what childbirth is like, and even though this is no fault of their own, that's like asking someone who's never played football to coach the Broncos. And I'm sorry, but the last thing I want when I'm in pain and trying to push a small human out of my vagina is for my husband (the one who got me into this situation in the first place) whispering words of encouragement in my ear or rubbing my back in between contractions. Don't talk to me, and definitely don't touch me. Fortunately, Marcos understood his role in husband-coached child birth: stay at least two feet away from me and don't say a word. I have to say, he played the part brilliantly. Honestly, I wish we still lived in the era when the men would stay in the waiting room smoking cigars and then a few hours (or God forbid, days) a baby would magically appear.
So, up until the second that Rory was actually born, I held on to the belief that I could do everything myself. But after giving birth, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I could barely walk, let alone care for a newborn on my own. I realized quickly that accepting help was imperative for both Rory and my's survival. When Marcos offered to change Rory's diaper or give her a bottle so that I could have a break, I was more than happy to hand her over. Over the next few weeks, it dawned on me that parenthood is the very definition of team work. To keep the football metaphor going, every day is spent passing the football (Rory) back and forth and analyzing the playbook to determine the best play for every situation.
You hold her while I eat, and then we'll switch. I'll put her down for her nap while you do laundry.
Would you rather do the dishes or give her a bath?
I'll hold her legs while you distract her so the doctor can give her the shot. I'll drink these three margaritas and you wake up with her at 5 am.
And just like football players specialize in certain positions, each parent has his or her own strengths as well. I'm the only one who can cut Rory's nails, but Marcos can get her to eat every last bite of her dinner. Parenting is hard work, and not something that anyone should have to do alone. It's true that it takes a village to raise a child. Marcos isn't the only one who helps me on the field. (Okay, that one was a stretch, but I'm nothing if not consistent.) I have lots of teammates: my neighbors, friends, and that random guy who offered to hold Rory while I cleaned the grocery cart. Everyone has something to offer if you let them help.
It took me almost thirty years, but I'm glad that I finally realized that I can't do it all by myself. And I'm beyond grateful to have such great teammates by my side. I don't want to brag or anything, but I bet if we were a real football team we would win the World Series.
This has been a month full of fun, learning, and adventures. You went on your first trip, said your first words, and took your first steps! I say this every month, but watching you grow and learn brings me so much joy.
You don't sit still very long anymore, and you are into everything. We're in full baby-proofing mode. You're favorite toys right now are your peek-a-boo blocks and anything stuffed. Mommy found a bag of finger puppets at a consignment sale, and you can't get enough of them. Sometimes Marli thinks they are her toys, and you and her get in an old fashioned tug-of-war contest. (I'm sorry to say that you usually lose.) You also enjoy rides in your tricycle and trips to the park to see the chickens.
It's amazing how quickly you are learning. Daddy has taught you to point to your nariz (nose) and your "boca" (mouth). You can make elephant and horse noises, and you point to animals in your books, waiting for mommy or daddy to make the right sounds. You are understanding so much of what we say and you have become so observant. You point to pretty much everything, and you're not satisfied until we let you touch, feel, taste, and smell whatever catches your interest.
You love staying with Amanda and playing with the neighbor boys, but you're not a big fan of the nursery drop-off at the gym. Just yesterday I had to end my workout early because you wouldn't stop crying.
Your greatest love (besides daddy) is music. If you hear anything that even half-way resembles a beat, you start to dance. Just the other day, I was banging two blocks together, and you started moving your head from side to side in rhythm to the makeshift beat I had created. It doesn't matter what kind of music it is (nursery rhymes, country, daddy's horrible techno music), you can move to it.
Your personality is becoming stronger, and it's fun to see what traits you've inherited from me and which ones come from your dad. You become frustrated easily (me) and you love to talk (also me). You love to play with any type of ball (dad) and you are almost always in a good mood (definitely dad).
When I look at you, I don't see a baby anymore. You have six teeth, drink from a sippy cup, and have hair long enough for a small pony tail. And in one month, you will officially be a toddler. Rory, you have made me a better person and the world a better place. I love you to the moon and back.
We have to keep the bathroom door closed so you don't see your bath and get to get in the tub.
Boxes: Every child's favorite toy.
Hanging out in the laundry basket.
Proof that you're Irish. There is now a lock on the liquor cabinet.
Playing in the tunnel at story time.
It's fall!
Your favorite thing at the playground.
Happy baby!
Hanging with Chili in Wyoming during our visit to Auntie Karla's house.
