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Dear Chubs,

I have procrastinated in writing this month’s letter. I really don’t know why except to say things at the house have changed dramatically, and you are doing exactly as I predicted: “reacting”. When a baby reacts to change, even the happiest of babies (on the block) can suffer. Your sleeping is OFF. Your eating is OFF. Your mood is…oh gosh….OFF. I thought you were picking up on sign language this month because you nailed “All Done”. But that has become your uni-sign. Or pan-sign, to be more accurate. Every few minutes, whether we are grocery shopping, eating, or playing outside…you are JUST ALL DONE. Change scenes, mix it up. Been there done that. D-O-N-E Mommy. Done.

To keep us all on an even keel during these patches, my solution is to carry you everywhere. When I tell the funny Sara stories and talk about our wild adventures, you my dear, have been glued to my left hip this entire time. I call my left arm, “The Kelly Gun”. I’m ripped! Sweet! Daddy calls you and Sara “The Babies That Are NEVER Put Down”. I’m like some ancient Nomad woman, tending to crops with a baby strapped to her back. Wait, a Nomad tending fields would be a contradiction in terms. Anyway…I’ve carried you both through your first year of life. And no matter how many times Daddy tells me to put the baby down, I never do. If Angelina Jolie caught Brad Pitt by strapping babies to her body, so can I.

That’s not to say you don’t play. I’m amazed at your independent play and exploration. You toodle around this house, making anything into a toy. At your age Sara could entertain herself for at least 20 seconds at a time. You can play for MINUTES. Sometimes MANY in a row. Despite our recent bump in the road, you remain an extraordinarily content baby.

This first week at home has been one long streak of wonderful, although, you and I hit a low point today. I began to seriously worry about you. You would not climb the stairs. Forget walking, I can’t even get you to stand for any period of time. I had given up that you’d ever get teeth. You’ve been miserably teething since my Senior Prom. I started internet surfing for toddler dentures. The first year of life is a tough one Kelly. There are rapid periods of growth, and then plateaus that seem to last a lifetime. Or at least the length of Madonna’s career: singing, not acting. Duh. You hate the sprinkler, sunscreen, and grass. If it weren’t for bubbles, what would we do? This rancor coming from my child who is so invigorated by the sound of the vacuum, you actually dive at the thing, WHILE IT’S RUNNING.

But like all bad storms, they break when you least expect it. Daddy came home after a long week at the office, and you stood. And stood. And stood some more. You played like mad with us in the hallway, screaming with laughter. And because Jesus hears our prayers, we put our fingers across your gums for the 1000th time, and we felt 3 teeth. THREE. Just breaking through, but clearly there. I think you’re just trying to impress Daddy, a person you are so excited to see you actually try to propel yourself out of your highchair when he walks in from work.

So kid, while I plan your UNHOOKED first birthday party with the Candyland theme, I can only tell you it gets better from here, I promise. Soon you’ll walk and eat real food (as if that entire croissant you ate yesterday was baby food…hardly my dear). Soon you’ll be able to chase Sara on your own tricycle. While you are adjusting to this new schedule at home, I just want you to know that I’d turn the world upside down to make you laugh. I’ll shuffle the universe to bring you happiness. I’m in your life Kelly. Forever. Even when you keep me up all night. Even when you won’t take a bottle or eat a bite of food. Even when. Even when.

Although you are biting at the bit to eat up your future, part of me can’t stand the thought of you growing even one more ounce (mostly because my back is nearly broken). Perhaps I’ve procrastinated this letter because writing it makes the passage of time all too real. You are my last baby, Boo Boo Chicken. My Itty Bit who turned into the most round, perfect cherub I’ve ever seen. But I know, life awaits you. Go ahead. You do what you have to do. I’m right here Kel-Belle: holding onto ALL of these memories, especially these last moments of baby our Team will ever see. You are our treasure kiddo. You are proof that with a little practice, I was finally able to figure out this baby thing. Hang in there with us, even when the tides change around you. Mommy is sure of our course. Mommy knows. Mommy knows.

Your Shadow,

Mommy