A win.

Last night, Carter munched on some organic chicken and sweet potatoes, followed by some all natural green veggie puffs. Seth and I dined on Florentine Pork Roast, butternut squash I made myself from a real life squash! (I have the burn marks to prove it... curse my impatience) and brussel sprouts, accompanied by sparkling apple pomegranate juice.

I won't tell you what we had the night before, but at least last night was a success in the healthy eating realm. And then I ate some Robin's Eggs loaded with calories and chemicals. In moderation, of course.

Nine months, take 2.

Dear Carter,

Today you’re nine months old. Nine months is so old! In nine months, you went from a tiny spec to a hefty 9 pound newborn with a gigantic head. A lot can happen in 9 months, and looking at you, it’s hard to believe where we were 9 months ago.

That means you’ve officially been an outside baby longer than you were an inside baby. And my goodness, you have picked up some new skills in this ninth month of your life. It’s almost hard to believe you couldn’t do these things a mere 4 weeks ago.

First there was clapping. You love clapping, and we love watching you clap. You haven’t quite figured out appropriate times for clapping, but that’s okay. It’s nice to get applause complete with a happy grinning baby anytime. Then came finger foods. You can now deftly pick something up with your fingers and delicately place it in your mouth and chomp on it. This is a big step from smashing something into your mouth with a flat palm. Also, it means we’re in big trouble. As I write this we’re seriously contemplating a robot vacuum and steam mop to better prepare for you sticking every single thing imaginable in your mouth because if you want it and can envision moving toward it, it is for sure going in your mouth. You wave now, but you’re moody about it. Some people get a wave sometimes when you feel like it. You also reach for us to pick you up. When you’ve grown bored with sitting or laying or breathing, you want to pull yourself up. This happened all of the sudden one day. You were sitting on our bed and your dad absent mindedly stuck out his hands for you to play with. Five seconds later you were on your feet with no help. Your father and I realized at that moment that we are in very large buckets of trouble. You are so very dissatisfied with your lack of mobility. Even the thought of crawling seems dismal to you. You want to walk run. ASAP. You’re almost starting to say a few words. Mostly up, mama, and occasionally something vaguely similar to “bye-bye” will make an appearance, complete with the wave!

Some new tricks are not as fun (but secretly still entertaining). I wonder sometimes if we’re raising a baby or wrestling an alligator. Diaper changes require restraints now. Seriously, we strap you to the table, and you still flip from under the strap. You’re especially mobile with your dad. I’m not entirely sure the force of your kicking is normal baby behavior. You lift your legs as high as they will possibly go and THUMP them ridiculously hard on the changing table. The neighbors may even hear it. When I feed you, you’re a ball of energy with limbs all over the place. Your foot usually ends up wedged under my chin or resting on my shoulder. And you bite. Worse still is that you think biting is funny. I try to limit my reaction because, just like your father, you like to get a reaction out of me. So I very calmly look at you and say “Carter, no biting. That’s not nice.” Every time I do that, you proceed to laugh. Typically, it’s a somewhat evil sounding laugh. Your dad can verify, I’m not making this up.

You love food and the eating process. We rarely have to coax you to finish a jar of food or try something you don’t like. Even peas and squash, which are not your favorite, are usually gobbled up. Every once in a while I give you something you don’t like and you gag yourself and stick out your tongue for me to retrieve said offensive food. I gave you a pea a couple weeks ago and you looked at me like I was trying to poison you. But most things, especially puffs, all fruit, and most vegetables, you love.

You also love sweatshirt strings and anything else you can pull on. Fan cords are especially tempting. At some point your dad thought you might like to pull on the fan cord. He was right, you love it. The problem is that your dad is almost a foot taller than me, so he can lift you up to the fan cord no problem. I have to hoist you into the air while you proceed to explore the fan cord, bat at it a few times, hold it between your fingers, and eventually maybe pull on it while I’m trying not to drop you or fall over.

The most heartwarming thing has happened over the last month: you and Stella are finally buddies! She’s starting to like you and is usually close by when you’re eating. She’s even started to follow you and plop down by you when you’re just playing on the floor with no food involved. But you take the relationship to a new level. You absolutely love her! When you spot her you shriek with delight. When you hear the distinct jingle of her collar in your vicinity, your head pops up and you spastically search for her. Last week you woke up around 2am and as I carried you through the hallway you spotted her in the dark (not sure how, she’s a black dog in a dark house) and were beyond delighted. You were flailing your arms, kicking your legs, and joyfully screeching. That in itself was enough to warm my heart and ease the pain of being up at 2am.

We watched a lot of Olympic sports over the last month, and every time I watched an award ceremony and watched someone freshly adorned with a medal as their country’s anthem played, I thought that someday, that could be you. If you could avoid skeleton, your mother would be so obliged as that seriously freaks me out. You can be whatever you want to be, and you have an amazing opportunity to be born in a country where we have freedom and unmatched opportunities. You could be an Olympian, or a musician in the Symphony, or an acclaimed author, or maybe the President. I don’t know where your path will lead you, but I promise that just being yourself, just being Carter, is more than any accomplishment you can put in your biography.

I think we’re right on the cusp of chaos with you. I’m already planning your first birthday party. In another month or two you’ll be crawling, talking, maybe walking. So for today, right now, we’re savoring every still moment, be they ever so rare, reveling in every new skill you master, and celebrating you at every milestone.

Love,

Mama

Nine months.

Dear Carter,

Today you are nine months old. However, the time I planned to spend finishing your Nine-Month letter was reallocated to soothing, rocking, and singing you to sleep. For over an hour. While you screamed. Time change, I loathe you.

So the letter will be coming soon.

Love,

Your very exhausted mother

More fun with robots.

I was telling Seth that I'm creeped out by roombas roaming the house while we sleep. I don't know why, it's just weird, okay?!

This is the resulting chat:

Seth: i think you need some help. the roomba isn't out to get you

Rachel: who are you?! you're the one who told our 4 month old son not to trust robots! [background: one of the words in Carter’s 100 first words book is robot]

Seth: it's a double-edged sword.

roomba is fine

until it learns to combine forces with other robots

he's smart

other robots are dangerous

as long as they stay separate, we're ok