our little shamrock

And now for some birthday weekend photo overload!

Andrew and I both took Friday off from work so we could have her actual birthday to spend just us all day. We started out with her one year check-up with the following stats:

  • 20 lbs / 33rd percentile
  • 30 inches / 83rd percentile
  • Cute as a fucking button / 100 percentile

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Shots are never fun but Rosalyn always enjoys a chance to really show off what her lungs can do. We then had to celebrate with some birthday donuts from DaVinci’s. A DaVinci Dozen is actually 16 donuts because why not? I’m a fan. Naturally, we got Ros a birthday sprinkle donut and naturally she tasted it once before demolishing it with her tiny fists of curious rage.

We try our best to be polite and not leave a Hansel & Gretel trail of crumbs wherever we go. I wish I could say I do this because I’m a good person, but its really because I’m an anxious mess. The sweet ladies at DaVinci’s absolutely denied our request for a broom. But not to worry, Rosalyn did her part by picking up pieces off the floor to snack on.

We headed home for a post-donut nap for the tiny human while we worked on some birthday cake action. Her birthday party was St Paddy’s themed and I had these lofty dreams of decorating a cake with a sliced fruit rainbow to accompany the little gold coin cupcakes. But when I was removing the cakes from the pans it quickly became a giant crumbly mess due to my impatience. Enter sprinkles. Sprinkles hide a multitude of baking sins. Sprinkles on everything!

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Later that afternoon we headed to the aquarium and it suddenly hit me that our time with her as a freebie ticket to places like this is starting to run out. We need to go to the zoo ASAP.

Did you know Rosalyn is incredibly tiny compared to a Beluga whale?

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Now you do.

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Her favorite part was the moving sidewalk. I can’t even blame her, it’s like magic.

The next morning we relaxed at home with some oatmeal nut waffles (of course) before her birthday party that afternoon. The waffles were a big hit – steel cut oats, oven toasted pecans, a bit of cinnamon and vanilla. Rosalyn cared not at all about my pretty table setting.

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Her birthday party was so much fun. She loved doling out the tissue paper, squishing fistfuls of sprinkles, and watching her older/cooler cousin Rylee with much adoration of both her motor skills and hair length. One day, Ros.. one day.

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Uh, no thanks.

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And then I made her do this:

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Best. Birthday. Ever. Welcome to one, sweetheart!

 

 

rosalyn virginia: eleven months

This started out as an attempt to squeeze in some eleven month photos juuuuuust before she turns twelve. Honest. But I found myself a bit distracted with these lovely little pockets of light in our house at dusk. Forgive me, baby girl. Your mother was first a photographer. They have yet to find a cure.

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There are so many would-be sources of anxiety in this. The house is a mess. I didn’t take the photos “on time”. They weren’t taken in the same style as the previous months. Etc, etc. There are several expected ways in which becoming her mother has “tied” me down or limited my choices. But it is in this way that she has gifted me freedom. She has taught me acceptance. She has empowered me to say to these suffocating demons of mine, “No, thank you. Not right now.”

So this is what life at eleven months has looked like. A little of this, a little of that. Happy chaos. Disordered joy. It has looked like me beginning to melt back into the places I once was; stretching and wriggling into me. My fingers tingle as the blood rushes through.

rosalyn virginia: ten months

Time is slipping away so fast and we’re slipping away with it. So here we are, a week from turning eleven months and trying to squeak out a ten month photo series. Taken with a phone. At dinner. Tonight. Forgive me, future Rosalyn who is reading this. You’re a bit of a wild child and I love you for it.


 It is an appropriate theme, however. Because ten months was all about the food. She was RAVENOUS out of nowhere and has begun eating three full meals + snacks almost every day. It’s been so much fun but also added another element of chaos to our days. I used to be able to just nurse her every night and worry about our dinner after her bedtime. Now we’re forced to create a new routine that includes family dinner before bed. All in all, not a bad problem to have.

Ten months has also brought a few new things: lots of walking, learning sippy cups, and 1-2 naps a day. All of this means? Someone is graduating to the Junior Toddler room at daycare soon! As of right now she still eats and sleeps with the infants but takes a little across-the-hall field trip to the one year olds for playtime.

 And all the little babies rejoiced because Ros has become a bit of a bruiser with the younger babes. Biting, sitting on, pacifier stealing. Yup, she’s a total sweetheart. One day she came home with a scratch on the back of her neck. I have this vision of the babies plotting a mutiny and devising a complicated plan to exact revenge on the reigning tyrant Ros. One baby distracts the teacher while three others tackle Rosalyn to the ground, barely leaving a mark before having to abort mission.


 She turned her bib into a cape and then styled her hair with some avocado. She turns eleven months soon. And then a year. I couldn’t be more excited for her.

rosalyn virginia: nine months

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Nine months was a great age for a first Christmas. Too young to understand it’s a holiday, but old enough to relish in the attention and brightly colored paper strewn about. She had an amazing time at each family gathering. The first ten to twenty minutes are reserved for quiet observation, always. And once she has decided, “Okay yes, this is nice and I like these people,” she opens up and babbles happily for the rest of the afternoon.

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So many times throughout the holiday season a friend or relative would say to me, “She’s such a sweet girl,” “Such a sweet personality,” “What a sweet heart she is.” It’s true. She is so sweet. But I just have to chuckle when someone makes that observation because this kid has the propensity to light a thousands flames with her fire. I joke with Andrew that she was the inspiration for those Sour Patch Kid commercials – sour, then sweet. She takes after her Aunt Shelby in that regard. She is Andrew’s twin, but sometimes she’ll pull a Shelby face and I’ll wonder if I’m raising a tiny version of my sister.

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Time for stats! At her nine month check-up (an appointment sandwiched between two other appointments for pink-eye and a cold, ugh) she measured at 28 inches and 17.5 pounds. Andrew was the one who took her in, so he texted me her percentiles: 75% for height, 33% for weight. Um, what? I’m fairly certain my immediate reaction was something along the lines of, “What kind of chubby ass babies are they using for their measuring stick??” I mean, have you seen those thighs I’ve made? Later on our Pink Eye Princess stayed home for Nana daycare and I received a candid baby photo with no less than three chins along with the caption, “Tragically underweight.” She is delicious.

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No steps over here just yet. She loves to stand but she’s never been much for stillness. She is lightning fast while crawling & cruising; I think the pause required for taking timid steps may be asking too much of a girl always on the move. But it wouldn’t surprise me if tomorrow I look over my shoulder and find her running full speed for her beloved dog food.

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rosalyn virginia: eight months

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She had zero interest in doing photos this past month. True Life: My daughter would rather play with her books than be my wage-less model. Woe, is me.

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At eight months, she is joy personified. Everything we do is absolutely hysterical in her eyes. She’s great for the ego. She loves to dance SO much. Mostly with music in the background, sometimes not. The girl has a rhythm in her soul (that she did not get from me – or her father, for that matter). At daycare pick-up there are many times that we’ll walk in and find her dancing and laughing, having the time of her life. Then she’ll turn, see Andrew, and exclaim, “Da!” as she clamors to get into his arms. It’s incredible.

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She says Mama/Ma, Dada/Da, and a few times “bye” has snuck out as well. She’s also working on waving. True to form though, these are not party tricks and she will not perform for the amusement of adults. If the occasion calls for a wave from Her Royal Highness, well then so be it. But don’t go making demands for your pleasure, peasant.

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She is so grown. I feel like from day one she has been chasing toddlerhood, hating her limited existence as a newborn. She is happy and content now that her body has caught up with her mind and she can do the things she has always wanted.

Every so often though, I’ll look over and find she’s gotten her pacifier and she’s my little baby all over again.

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When she figured out how to rock the recliner, all bets were off. I think she’ll be joining me on roller coasters one day. (Sorry, Dada.)

rosalyn virginia: seven months

IMG_0257-1 The more time I have with this girl the more I am convinced that she is in fact my teacher and not the other way around. She teaches me about myself, about my husband, about God. It’s not my job here to produce a good human. To teach her how to be good. She already is. She is innate goodness.

 

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IMG_0288-1 No, it is not my job to teach her how to be good. How could I when it is she that is a few steps from heaven? It is my job to gently remind her when she forgets. To try my damnedest to give her an example of how to hold onto that goodness well past infancy.

IMG_0294-1(It should be noted that I will fail at this. Over and over and over. But I have to keep trying.)

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