[Taken 24 Oct 2012 |1/60 sec @ f/3.8 | ISO 200 | 22mm | bounce flash]
Grammy and Granddad sent Connor a box of vintage 80’s baby clothes that used to belong to Connor’s Uncle Phil. Baby fashion shows take a while, so we still have most of a box to try on, but the red corduroy overalls fit perfectly. (The shirt underneath, not so much.)
Dear Connor,
I wasn’t sure if I would keep writing these monthly notes to you after you turned one, but Mommy’s worried that she’ll just let Life pass us by and forget to remember all the little things you do. Mommy and Daddy have a baby book for you, but sometimes we forget to write important things in it right when they happen, and Mommy has to go back to what she wrote here or other places on the Internet to remember exactly what happened when.
So, here we are. You’re 13 months old, and you’re always on the go!
You’re walking a lot more steadily than you were a month ago, when you’d just managed to get your feet under you. Mommy and Daddy bought you your first pair of shoes at Target, and you’re starting to get the hang of walking in those, too.
Lots of things have changed with your routines this month, but none of them seem to be bothering you much. You’re eating more solid food, and drinking whole milk instead of formula, per your pediatrician. Daddy started giving you solid snacks during the day instead of just bottles, and he started putting you down to nap in your crib instead of in your swing. (Not only was the motor broken, but you just didn’t fit anymore. It was almost comical.)
Mommy also modified your bedtime routine so that we don’t give you a bath every night; this way, the next time a babysitter gets to put you to bed, you won’t be thrown off if there isn’t a bathtime. Instead, we jump straight to brushing your teeth, then change your diaper and give you a massage with lavender baby oil, then get your jammies on, then book, then bottle, then bed.
You don’t say very many words — “Uh-oh” is the main one (when you drop something, which happens a lot), with the occasional “hi” and “bye” — but you do a good amount of signing. You’ll sign “more” a lot of the time (although I think you mean “want” sometimes), and you clap for “all done,” and you’ve started signing “eat” when you’re hungry. You also like to wave hello and good-bye, although sometimes you don’t get the timing quite right on those. You also wave bye-bye for bedtime — to say good-night to Daddy or Mei Kitty. Mommy showed you the sign for “milk” and some other foods, but you haven’t picked up on those yet. Mommy’s trying to think of other signs she should introduce to you (and Daddy), like “tired” (although you’re like Mommy and don’t like to admit when you’re sleepy).
Since you’re such a big boy now, you’re sitting in the big-boy car seat that Uncle Pete and Aunt Dee bought for you last year. We also bought a big-boy car seat for the other car, and Daddy had a much easier time installing that one than the first.
And since you’re not in the infant carrier anymore, we bought you a new stroller, since the old stroller was only really handy since the baby carrier snapped into the top of it. It was really large and bulky and hard to get in the trunk of the car, but the new one is much lighter and smaller.
Starbucks trips have gotten interesting since we started bringing you in without your infant carrier. You want to run around and get into everything, like the curious little boy you are. So, Mommy and Daddy have been doing a lot of drive-thru Starbucks lately, and your fan club at our favorite location hasn’t been getting to see you quite as often.
We’ve taken you other places, though! Before we got your new stroller, we took you to the Black Swamp Arts Festival in Bowling Green to meet Marlee and her parents, Eric and Jessica. We didn’t get any pictures, but you played with Marlee at Grounds For Thought, and had a great time.
We also took you to the International Festival at the mosque in Perrysburg. Mommy and Daddy enjoyed some Lebanese food and Arabic coffee while you hung out in your stroller and checked out all the people.
You’re getting to be such a big boy, but you still have quite a ways to go. Soon, though, you’ll have more words, and you’ll be able to do more things for yourself. It would be so easy to wish away these toddler days and look forward to the time when you’ll be even more interactive than you are now — but I know I would regret it. So, for now, Mommy’s trying to put down the smartphone and be actively present when she has special time alone with you.
Who’s my little squigglebug?
Here we are: you’re one year old! (Actually, you turned one about a week and a half ago; Mommy’s a little behind schedule. But better late than never!)
I seriously don’t remember the last time I got poison ivy, but I know I’ve had it at least once before. Elementary school? Who knows. At any rate, I certainly didn’t expect to get it in my own backyard.
It was about a month ago, before Connor started pulling up to standing and attempting to walk. Used to be that we’d rarely go out in our backyard, thanks to the annoying dog next door who barks at everything and everyone — even us. This particular evening, though, I decided, “To hell with the neighbor dog! We’re going outside to enjoy the weather!”
So we did. I brought a big green blanket outside and spread it on the ground, plopped Connor down on it, then plopped myself down next to him. Of course, Connor made a break for the open grass, and I was fine with that. He played with weeds and sticks and leaves and whatever else he could find, and I took pictures.
(And video.)
After a while, Connor got bored and made for the bushes. I wasn’t keen on him getting into the years-old mulch under the arborvitaes, or getting stuck back by the chain link fence behind the trees where I couldn’t reach him, so I followed him and scooped him up and called an end to Outside Playtime.
I didn’t realize at the time that I’d stuck my right arm through this:
Fast forward to the next morning at work, when I found myself scratching at a mild rash on my right wrist. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what must have happened, and by then, I assumed it was too late to do much of anything but ride it out. I know now that there are other options, like steroid shots and over-the-counter topical washes and lotions — but at the time, I figured I’d just see how bad it got.
Oh, boy.
First, it cropped up on my right wrist and right shoulder, since that’s what had actually touched the ivy as I reached through it to grab Connor. Then, since I hadn’t realized at the time, I managed to spread it to my chest and my other arm and my right knee. But it kept going (I’m assuming it’s because I didn’t change the bedsheets that night or the night after), and I got little spots on my torso, as well.
The itching was fierce. Aaron suggested I take the antihistamine he had on hand for his seasonal allergies — that was a major lifesaver. Eventually, Aaron insisted on getting me something topical to put on my rash, and he picked up some Ivarest lotion. It did help, but by then the damage had been done. The rash on my wrist was oozing and disgusting, so I covered it with a giant bandaid — until it got too large to cover, after which point I just started wearing long sleeves to work in the middle of summer. The rash on my chest was red and nasty-looking, as well, so I wore blouses with rather high necklines — also not a normal summer fashion trend for me.
It took three weeks for my rashes to completely clear up, and I still have pinkish spots in places — hopefully it’s just new skin, and not actual scarring.
So, how is it that we hadn’t noticed until now that we have poison ivy growing in the backyard?
Truth is, we had.
When we had our tree trimmed a couple years ago, the tech mentioned to Aaron that a particular vine growing up our tree was poison ivy. Since we rarely used the backyard, and hadn’t planned to have any kids, and since Aaron is one of the few percent of the population who isn’t allergic to poison ivy, we took little heed.
After the fact, Aaron sprayed all the ivy and other weeds with extra-strength weed killer, and that seems to be taking care of the problem… for now. As for me, I started playing with Connor exclusively in the front yard, and changed the plans for Connor’s birthday party to be indoors, just in case someone were to find some poison ivy that’s not quite dead.
Poison Ivy – 1, Diana – 0.
You’re almost a year old! Not a little baby anymore, but not quite a toddler yet.
Every new month is full of new milestones, and this month was no exception. You really got the hang of pulling yourself up onto the furniture, and you became quite the speedy crawler, so Mommy and Daddy bought baby gates to keep you corralled in the living room.
