9 Months

Dear Kellen,

Yesterday was your 9 month birthday. I thought of you at 2:01 in the afternoon, and how you were exactly three-quarters of a year old. How you have now been in our arms as long as you were in my belly. And it absolutely blew my mind. You're such an integral part of our world, it seems unimaginable that you weren't even here yet at this time last year! And now you're crawling all over us and the house, saying "dada" and pulling yourself up into a standing position.

You are still "army crawling" - you look like a tiny little soldier off to conquer the living room floor. You have a strange attraction to the bathroom. If we don't keep the door closed you will beeline straight in there with a huge smile on your face, as if to say "Ah ha! I've done it!". I'm not sure what this is about because the bathroom is hands down by far the nastiest room in the house, but I suppose your baby brain doesn't care about such things yet. Unfortunately I don't have that excuse for not keeping it cleaner. Meh.

Books, books, books. You always have, and I hope always will, love books. When crawling around your play mat, nine times out of ten you will crawl towards a book and lie on your belly, flipping the pages and either smiling at the pictures or cooing with a concentrated look on your face. When your father and I do yard work, we can set you in the playpen or the tent shelter with a pile of books and get at least a half hour of contented baby. I look forward to years of sharing that love with you.

I don't know that I have much else to say to you this month except that you have made it the best July I've ever had. Your dad and I have had a few days and nights without you in the past weeks, and while it is always nice (and necessary) that we get some time alone together, my heart breaks a teeny, tiny bit whenever I have to walk away from you for an extended period of time. You have become an extension of me, like another appendage, and it hurts me to let go of you. I know that I will have to let go more and more the older you get, but for now you are my little baby, my baby that I can cuddle and fall asleep with in the rocking chair, and I thank you for still being so small that this makes you as happy as it makes me.

Love you,

Mama




KELLEN GIGGLES from Julie Hancock on Vimeo.