Monthly Newsletter #12

Dear Landon,

Today you turned 1. It was one year ago today when I lost a complete day of my life. I have no idea what happened. I know it wasn’t painful that day, but it was pretty painful in the weeks that followed. One year on the campaign trail of “Only Child or Bust.” Your target demographic seems to be in lock step with your views. Polls show you just might win.

This month you’ve taken your first steps. You had no idea you did it, you had no idea why everyone was so excited, you had no idea why Grandma was teasing you with a toy thinking you’d step to her, and JUST HAND IT TO ME WOMAN! You've done it since, but not a lot, probably because you didn’t know you did it to begin with. In the last couple days it's been more and more, so it’s only a matter of time.

Since we showed you how your walking cart is supposed to work, you’ve taken to grabbing anything you can find that slides and using it as a walker. A laundry basket slides nicely on all floors, the barstools are good on the tile, but not so much on carpet. And stupid baby gates get in your way.



You’re beginning to test your limits. You know what you’re supposed to be doing and what you’re not, we can tell by the way you smile at us when we tell you no. I’m pretty sure it’s a survival technique designed to disarm angry parents from killing their young for trying to climb the stairs for the 14th time in less than an hour. Or you’re a punk.

You’ve said some words besides “Mamama” and “Dadada” this month. We’re pretty sure you’re saying “Dogdogdog.” It sounds a lot like “Dadada” but you are normally looking at the dog when you say it. You will occasionally say “bye” to someone, but not on command, pretty much it’s only if they’re lucky. Then there’s the time I thought you might have said “kitty.” I’m not really sure what’s at work here. I mean, if you put 100 monkeys on typewriters, one of them is bound to type a word. You do a lot of “dee dee dee” noises. I kind of like that everything you say is in 3s. I would love to be Mamama, instead of Mama and then you can skip right on to “Mom.” (and God knows I do NOT want to be called "mommy".) Hey there’s a commercial for Volvo where this little girl is talking and talking and talking and her Dad is trying to be all attentive, but also trying to get the hell in the car and go somewhere, and he very carefully listens while he puts her in the car seat and has to close the door and get around to the driver side, and she never misses a beat, she just keeps talking. That’s you. Only we don’t know what the heck you’re saying.

I was getting the house ready for your birthday party and I set you up in the foyer with a couple toys, I gated the front door while I bleached the front patio. I could see you and talk to you and I thought it was a pretty good set up. You screamed as I walked away to get the hose from the side of the house, but you were perfectly fine and I could hear you talking to the dogs once I was out of sight. Until you saw me come back and then you screamed and pretended I had abandoned you and you had been screaming all along. We both know that’s not true, so cut that out. That’s not the only time I’ve observed this little manipulative trick of yours, you do it when I have the audacity to put you in your car seat and then lock the back door before we leave in the morning. Or when I try and go to the bathroom. Not cool.

Meanwhile, for all your punkish behavior, I almost called in cute and cuddly to work last week and its days like that when I can see why a lot of people have their babies about 2 years apart. Not that we fall into that category, see above, about the most excellent campaign you’re running.
Love,
Mamama