Dear Anneke,

Today, you are six.

I remember when you were new to us. Daddy and I were both bald babies, and Kieran had been bald, so we were totally shocked by your dark hair.

And you never stopped shocking me.

You’re the child who does what she wants. Break your finger jumping off an air conditioner? If you feel the need to jump again, it’s happening. 737th time-out for jumping on Momma’s and Daddy’s bed? I can count on you to do it again and plant your face right on the edge of the desk, leaving teeth marks a quarter of an inch deep.

You scare me. No matter how hard I try to protect you, everything is new to you. You’re willing to do or say anything to get what you want. The only thing that’s predictable about you is your unpredictability. And your disdain for rules.

You’ve taught me a lot. You’ve taught me that I didn’t deserve a whole lot of credit for Kieran’s perfect behavior or sleeping habits. You’ve taught me that kids with the same parents could share almost none of the same traits. You’ve taught me that I could enjoy having a girlie daughter. You’ve taught me that girlie and rule-breaker aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.

You’re a daughter in a house of sons. You wanted a sister both of the times your younger brothers were born. When Archer was born, I was happy Griffy would have a little brother just two years younger, but I was also so sad that you’d never have a sister. I wish I could have given you that relationship.

In the last few months, you’ve backed off your art a little bit. You still lose yourself in it sometimes, but the times seem less frequent recently. Maybe it will ebb and flow. I hope so. I hope you’re not losing your passion. I try not to care because you’re simply perfect as you are, but that passion and talent were total surprises. I’d forgotten that art might be in my genes, passed from my dad, until you were born. It’s the one thing about him that still seems like it’s living, because of you.

You were due the day after his birthday, and you were born the day after the anniversary of his death. You remind me the most of him – or at least of how I imagine he might have been if I’d had the opportunity to know him longer.

We have the most complicated relationship, you and me. I don’t know why that is. I’m sure some of it has to do with gender and the complexities of mother-daughter relationships. I’m sure some of it has to do with our personalities.

I wish it were easier, but maybe the best relationships are complicated.

Either way, I love you so, so much. I hope you really know that, all the way to your soul. You’re my best, best girl.

Momma

P.S. At six, you like:

• reading books to yourself in your bed at bedtime
• hoarding unremarkable objects (like a washed tray from a frozen dinner)
• pretty things like jewelry
• Disney princesses
• taking care of Archer
• baths
• birthdays
• growing plants in the mini-greenhouse
• flowers
• school
• friends
• making cards for people
• cleaning
• school library books
• fruit
• sweets
• science
• pizza night

At six, you do NOT like:

• bedtime
• hiking
• bees

A different kind of joy today.

***
Dear Griffon,

Tomorrow, you will turn three.

And you’re sooooo stinkin’ cute.

Right now, you’re really into Spider-Man. You wear your costume and mask to school about once a week. Today, you wore it to a restaurant for dinner. You were very insistent that you be allowed to order “Spider-Man food,” but unfortunately, it was never clear what that was. You tried to convince us it was candy, but we were not swayed.

You are the only Spider-Man I know who loves his blankie bear more than fighting crime.

You’re also pretty cranky these days. You whine. A lot. You’re a contrarian. I say black; you say white. Daddy says corn-on-the-cob; you say popsicle. We can never, ever win. Part of it is the sleep deprivation that comes with school, and part of it is your desire to be totally independent in a three-year-old body.

It’s especially bad with food. You don’t want to eat anything, and you want to eat everything. You want yogurt. We give you yogurt. You DID NOT WANT YOGURT!! OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! I want CHEEEEEEEESE! No, not THAT cheeeeeeeeeeese! STRING cheese!!!! OMGOMGOMG!!!

But.

You still have a smile to melt hearts.

You talk nonstop. You play a lot. You love books and music and trucks. You sleep with your favorite big brother. You still dig on Yo Gabba Gabba, although you aren’t as enamored as you once were. You sometimes prefer Max and Ruby now, actually. Momma’s friend got her friend, DJ Lance, to sign a picture for you. You slept with it for a few days, but it hangs on the wall in your bedroom now.

Everyone loves you. Even with the cranky, you’re still sunshiney like no one else I know.

At three, you like:

• your blankie bear
• eating out at “restromps”
• CANDY
• Kieran
• Anneke, sometimes
• playing on the slide and in the water at school
• swim diapers
• “vitermins”
• going “downsters” in the morning
• sleeping with Momma and Daddy
• snuggling
• sitting on the potty
• GUM
• being carried

At three, you do NOT like:

• hair washes
• other kids sleeping next to you in Momma’s and Daddy’s bed
• naps and bedtime
• other kids playing with your toys

The other day, the morning of my birthday, actually, I woke up to your smooshy kiss on my mouth and “I love you too.”

You bring joy right to me every single day. I love you so much.

Momma

Dear Archie,

Last Thursday, you turned one year old. I don’t know how that happened. I was just staked out on the couch watching “America’s Next Top Model” reruns with you nursing and sleeping on my lap and sleeping and nursing and sleeping and sleeping, just four minutes ago. And now, you’re one. One.

You much prefer your daddy. That is your newest thing. When Daddy leaves the room, it breaks your heart. You want little to do with me, but you’ll humor me for awhile if you’re in a good mood.

You’re not yet walking, but you’re getting really close. This month, I think. You’ve started clapping and waving (you were already waving, but now it’s obviously intentional and communicative), and you respond to your name. Everyone loves to clap and wave with you. You get the cutest, biggest, sloberriest grin and flirty baby eyes.

At 12 months, you take naps in your crib and start off there at night, but you sleep with us from about midnight on. You take baths with your siblings or showers with us. You still mostly drink bottles of formula, but you’re learning how to use sippy cups. You wear clothes in 9 or 12 months sizes. You have about seven teeth, but you’re always cutting more and VERY drooly.

At one year, you like:

• crackers
• french fries (surprise)
• CAKE
• your brothers and sister
• pacifiers
• Buddy
• giggling with Griffon
• putting everything in your mouth
• baths

At one, you do NOT like:

• having your nose wiped
• laying on your back for diaper changes, etc.
• being woken to be picked up from school
• Griffon crying
• meat

You’re fun. I’m lucky to know you.

Happy birthday, lovey. I can’t wait to learn more about you, and I hope we have many more years together.

Momma

Dear Kieran,

You were born on a Tuesday morning. It was the end of April, and the weather was as perfect as it gets in Austin, clear and 65 F. I labored for 15 hours and pushed for three. Our labor nurse’s name was Elise.

The doctors had told me a week before you were due to arrive that you already weighed about 9.5 lbs. Two weeks later, when you finally joined us, my firstborn, lovely baby boy, at not even seven pounds or 20 inches, I couldn’t believe it. You were the tiniest, tiniest little human, completely perfect.

And then you grew. And you were the most beautiful baby I had seen in my entire life.

3 months

7 months

1 year

This year, you turned nine. We celebrated in the park with a marshmallow shooter party.

At nine, you like:

• Games – board games, Wizard 101, Nintendo DS, Wii
• Staying home by yourself (for very short times)
• Staying up later than your sister and brothers
• Swimming
• Taking Roscoe for walks
• Dessert
• Cub Scouts
• Diary of a Wimpy Kid
• iCarly
• Movie club at school
• Constantly correcting your sister
• Being the “funny” guy
• Doing jobs around the house for money
• Playing at the park

At nine, you do NOT like:

• Baths (although you liked showers for about a week recently)
• Nail trims
• Sharing a room with Griffon
• Gifts of clothing
• Being late to school

I worry about you. You’re so sensitive. You want so much to be liked, but you have a terrible time fitting in. You’re so smart, but not like the normal (boring) “book smart” kid.

I want you to know it’s okay not to fit in. I want you to know you’re perfect, no matter what anyone says, and that your opinion of yourself is the only one that should matter. But I know it doesn’t work that way.

I wish I could protect your sweet heart from the world.

I love you, my sweet first baby, at 9 and 99 and always.

Love, Momma

To my darling boy.

You are cute.

This is what I say to you pretty much every time I look at you. You’re so cute. You look up at me and scrunch up your nose and show me your little Chicklet teeth when you smile, and then you do this Beavis and/or Butthead “huh huh huh” chuckle.

At 11 months, you’re either very happy or very very pissed. You express your dissatisfaction by throwing your whole body backwards and just wailing. You don’t care if what’s behind you is a mattress or a wall or someone’s skull. You took a bath with me yesterday and, when you decided you were done in the bathtub, you started screaming and trying to hurl your slippery body out of my hands and into an enamel arm rest. (I didn’t let you.)

You want to be held all the time. You love to play with your teachers and friends, but you get all kinds of mad when we drop you off at school. Your teachers are great, but it still makes me sad.

You love to hear the sound of your voice. You YELL “dadadadada.” I think you know the meaning now when you say “dada” and “mama,” but it’s difficult to tell. You also wave when we say hi to you or whenever you want to greet us or show affection. As illustrated in this terrible iPhone video (you can see the waving after the big kids run away and before you take off after them).

Oh my. So cute.

You’re still crawling everywhere. You pull yourself to standing and know how to drop back down on your bottom, but you haven’t taken any steps yet. You’re so tiny! I can’t imagine how funny you’re going to look when you start walking around.

Over the past month, you weaned yourself. You still nurse some at night, but it seems you have to be asleep. During the day, you want nothing to do with me. Your brother and sister nursed for MUCH longer than this, so it’s come as a sad surprise, last baby. While it’s nice to (mostly) have my (wrecked) body back to myself, I wasn’t expecting to lose this bond with you so quickly. I actually fed you a bottle yesterday afternoon. Made me sad.

Next month, you will be ONE. An age! The FIRST age! It is astounding that you have lived 11 months through all the constant poking and prodding of your brothers and sister. You ADORE them, which makes my heart flutter, but they scare the crap out of me with you. You’re just one of the buddies, though, and I love that. You’ll always be the littlest buddy, and they’ll probably always poke and prod you.

But I’ve got your back.

For. Evah.

Momma

My dearest, sweetest, littlest boy,

You’re 10 months old.

And you love the cat. Even more? The blinds on our bedroom window. You get this HUGE grin and start hurling yourself toward the window sill and trying to climb over the pillows. We pull the blinds up for you a little. You look out the window for a few seconds, but you’re much more excited by the blinds themselves. You try to catch the string as it swings back and forth, and if you can reach the blinds, you swing them back and forth too, slamming them into the wall and window. You’ve started waking up between 4 and 5 o’clock just to do this. All while showing all five of your teeth, air hissing in and out of your mouth as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. SO excited.

You’re still crawling, with no indication that you’ll be walking anytime soon. You do the cutest thing when you crawl to me. You crawl all the way, usually army style, but when you finally get to within a few inches of my feet, you jump your knees and feet up under you in one quick motion, ready for me to pick you up.

You started eating a lot more dry solid foods like crackers and puffs and stuff this month. You love to eat. Your teachers at school always comment on it. They’re also really impressed by your love of The Tunnel, a toy most of the other babies are afraid of. You spend all day crawling back and forth through it and giggling.

I can’t believe how old and big you’re getting. You’ll be 11 months old next month. And shortly after that, we’ll celebrate your first birthday. Wow.

You’re amazing. I love you, my lovey boy.

Momma

My dearest dear baby boy,

You are nine months old plus 10 days .

It seems you reached a turning point this month; you’re less baby and more toddler somehow. You have five teeth, and your hair is getting longer. You’re also a lot more mobile. You actually crawl on your knees sometimes now, even getting up on your feet, downward dog style. If you see me across the room, you aren’t particularly jazzed about making your way over, though. You’re more the kind of kid who’s put out about the inefficiency of your locomotion than the kind of kid who’s excited to try out a new trick.

You’ve gotten really restless with your nighttime sleep recently. We’re trying to put you back in your bed more consistently when you wake in the middle of the night, rather than letting you stay in our bed, and that seems to be working. You go to sleep really well in your bed now, generally just rolling over with your pacifier and blankie and going right to sleep, even for naps.

You started something this month where you kinda chuckle, a la Beavis and/or Butthead, not necessarily because anything is funny, but because you like interacting with people, I think. Ohmygosh. It’s *really* cute. (I’ve got to get it on video, really. This month also brought us the death of our digital camera, though. I’m sure there will be a black hole in the documentation of your babyhood for a few months. Sorry, buddy.)

I nurse you when we’re home, but you have formula almost exclusively at school now. I try not to feel guilty that my milk supply couldn’t keep up with you in school, but I’m not totally successful. We’re trying to feed you more solids these days too. You are a big fan of green beans, bananas, and sweet potatoes. Meaty things, not as much.

Look at you. Oh my gosh, you’re gorgeous! I don’t even know how I got so lucky to be your momma.

I love you, my sweet baby boy.

Me

To those of you I do not know in The Real Life, THIS IS THE MOMENT FOR WHICH YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING!

FOR NONE OF YOUR LIVES!

Also? Aside from having to see my face talking, THIS IS THE EASIEST BLOG POST EVER!

Dear Lovey,

You are eight months old.

You sprouted two teeth in two days this week, one on bottom, one on top. I know how different my babies look with teeth, and you’re just on the cusp of that, moving from infant to toddler. No sooner did you start sitting up than you struggle to get down from my arms. You whine and cry to be put down on the floor, where you can wiggle and inch your way forward with great effort and satisfaction. If you’re on any kind of soft surface, you hurl yourself, pushing off with your feet and hands, desperate to reach anything shiny and just out of reach.

You still take about three naps a day. You’ve gotten a lot better about sleeping in your bed for naps and at night before Daddy and I come to bed (but you join us pretty quickly). You still love your pacifier, especially for sleeping, and you’ve gotten really good at putting it in your mouth yourself.

Daddy changed your car seat this month. You were in a carrier before. Based on my level of comfort dragging you around in it, I think you weigh about 6,000 pounds. Give or take.

You’re still nursing almost exclusively. We spoon feed you commercial baby food or avocados sometimes, but you don’t like a lot of it. You’re great at eating what you like and refusing foods you don’t particularly enjoy.

You used a restaurant highchair for the first time this month. You do a pretty good job sitting in it, but you’re so so tiny. We went to Magnolia the other day [dear GAWD do we get stared at when we all go out together!], and you sat in your chair most of the time, your chin barely clearing the tabletop. You do this rocking thing that’s so cute. You rock back and forth in your chair, kinda like you’re dancing. You do the same thing when you’re on all fours, rocking with your butt in the air.

You *abhor* having your diaper changed all of a sudden, especially if you’re not otherwise occupied. If we don’t give you something with which to play – and your pacifier is insufficient for this purpose, thankyouverymuch – you are PISSED OFF. You’re this tiny little bean, but you fight and roll and pull and scream if you don’t like the diapering. So funny, so cute.

I know you’ll be more mobile soon, and that’s fine. I’ll survive. I just want to remember this you, this perfect eight-month-old you, forever.

Momma

My dearest, littlest love,

You are seven months old.

You’re rolling and scooting all over. You roll onto your tummy everywhere: on the bed, on the floor, on the couch while I’m changing your diaper, even in your hammock. Whenever I put you down on a blanket on the bamboo floor in the living room, you immediately roll to your belly and start scooting around. You arch your back to get your thighs off the ground first and then push with your hands. You are *so* proud of yourself when you actually go somewhere. You get this slobbery, gummy grin and just beam from ear to ear.

You’re not quite sitting up yet. You’re strong enough, I think, but you don’t quite have the balance part down. Plus, you do this thing where you slam your head back. It’s sad enough when you’re sitting facing out in someone’s lap, and you suddenly smack the back of your head into a collarbone. I won’t be able to handle it when you fall back onto the hardwood floor. I know it’s bound to happen when you start sitting up, but man…

Your sleep right now is pretty nightmarish. Maybe it has to do with your affinity for rolling. You have a terrible time going to sleep and remaining asleep, and it’s even worse if you’re next to me. By my side, you’re happy with no less than an open bar. If I pull my shirt down or, God forbid, roll over, there is some serious hell to pay. You scream and cry and kick, sometimes waking up Griffon. Griffon has started sleeping all night in his own bed (the result of a sleep rules chart and reward of “canny” and/or “wollypop” in the mornings… parenting FTW!). When this happens, sleep is out of the picture for everyone for a good couple of hours.

You’re still in 6-month clothes, and I don’t expect you to outgrow them anytime soon. We’ve started attaching one of those annoying pacifier keepers to your clothes every day. You’ve gotten really good at finding it and getting the pacifier in your mouth. When I put you in my lap to nurse, though, you best believe that thing will be jettisoned from your mouth with lightning speed.

As tiny as you are, you’re a huge fan of eating. You used the highchair for the first time yesterday. Daddy smashed some avocado for you, and you LOVED it. You dip your body forward when you want more, which is pretty much every time the spoon is removed from your mouth. For as little practice as you’ve had, you’re really good at eating solid foods.

This month, you got these bright red, bumpy, chapped spaces on your cheeks and chin that didn’t seem to be getting any better. At your six-month checkup, the doctor confirmed the eczema we’d already self-diagnosed. I don’t know how Daddy and I, with all our skin issues, thought we could possibly get by having four children without eczema. Poor baby. It looks really painful, and I know from experience that it is. I’ve started putting this combination of herbal foot cream and oil on your face. It’s the only thing that really works for me, so we’ll see if it can help you too.

We gave up your swing this month, but you still love the exersaucer. Anneke was playing with you tonight, in fact, jumping toward you, back and forth and talking, and I thought you might jump out of the thing. Watching her and having her pay attention to you, you were just giddy. The relationships I see developing among you and your siblings are just so dear.

We all love you so much. And maybe me most of all,

Momma