My little Cal-Pal,

You had your inside-out day yesterday:  the day that marked the point when you’d been in the outside world longer than you were inside me.  Things have certain changed, and mostly in a good way.  Unfortunately, your dad and I are too tired to appreciate many of them, because you’re in the midst of what the Internet tells me is the dreaded nine-month sleep regression.  I don’t know what your deal is, because you had been a good sleeper until just recently.  Now you wake up seven or more times per night, and I consider it a “good” night when I can quickly get you back to sleep after each wake-up.  Sometimes, like last night, I can’t, and I have to pull in your dad for backup.

The only reason I’m not a totally useless member of society is that I go to sleep at 9:30 p.m.  That way I have at least a sporting chance of getting a decent number of total hours.

Photo by Denny

Apparently it’s because you’re in the middle of big mental and physical developments.  You certainly have a lot of new skills:  you can very adeptly scootch around army-man style, and you’re working on getting up onto all fours.  You can pull yourself into a sitting position and stay there very reliably.  You are eating all kinds of new foods—your favorites right now are strawberries, yogurt, and applesauce. You’ve also tried mashed carrots, squash, peas, and poofs.  I also let you sample little soft bits from your brothers’ popcorn snack, and you loved those.

You’re starting to get the hang of the ASL signs for “more” and “all done,” and you’ve shown evidence of understanding a good number of spoken words and phrases.  You were in the bathtub at Mubby and Skittergramps’s house after a particularly horrible diaper explosion, and I’d gotten you clean and given you some time to play.  I thought it was time to be getting you out, so I asked (and signed) if you were all done.  You looked at me and signed “more.”  I feel like it was our first real conversation.  You still haven’t said an obviously-directed “mama” or “dada,” but you’ve made the sounds.   Hopefully in the next few months I’ll be able to proudly report that you’ve said your first word, and I’m even more hopeful that it will be “mama.”  Miles’s first word was “dada,” and Tobin’s was “bubby” (brother), so it’s my turn.  Can you come through for me?

As usual, you are a good sport when we drag you all over town for your brothers’ activities.  You come along on lunch dates with Tobin and me and to Tobin’s soccer games.  You ride along to Coralville for Miles’s piano lessons and watch us eat our weekly Dairy Queen treat without getting a single bite.  Just three more months until you can have a taste of Blizzard too.  I know your brothers are going to fight about who gets to shove spoonfuls into your mouth.  I’ll have to watch that or you’ll jump a standard deviation on the weight charts for sure.

Photo by Denny

You’re still happiest outside, and I know it’s going to be hard on you when the weather turns and we can’t spend so much time in the yard, park, and neighborhood.  Our current pattern is to walk your brother to school at Hoover, then take a long walk through the area.  It’s a nice way to get some exercise, spend time with you, and enjoy the fall.  Lately we’ve seen deer wandering around the residential yards.  You don’t really notice, but I get a kick out of them as long as they stay away from motor vehicles.

You’re bright-eyed, alert, and cheerful from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.  In the evening, you often get crabby when I’m busy helping your brothers with their evening tasks.  It’s hard to listen to you cry when I know that all it would take is a cuddle in my arms to calm you down.  I guess this is why third-born kids end up resilient:  sometimes you just have to wait.  But you never have to wait for long.  I’ve balanced you on my lap while I listen to Miles practice piano more than once, because hearing you cry is like rubbing sandpaper on my brainstem.  It makes it hard to play duets (or at least it makes them hard to play as written; you sometimes pound out your own accompaniments).  Your brothers are very patient with you, and for the time being, Miles thinks it’s funny when you interrupt his piano practice.

I’m looking forward to seeing your upcoming developments, sweetie pie.  I’ve loved having this fall with you, and we’ll be spending a lot of time this winter inside.  You’ll be exploring on your hands and knees all over the house, and I’ll do my best to keep the little toys and other floor crud out of your throat.

Keep enjoying the adventures we have together, my little chub-chub.  I look forward to seeing some wear on those little shoes.

Love,

Mommy