Fifteen Months

Dear Zachary,

Once you turned a year old, updating monthly seemed 1) unnecessary, and 2) impossible. Now that you are a full-fledged toddler, there's no leaving you alone! It continually amazes me how much you can get into in the fifteen seconds that my back is turned. You can always move a little faster, reach a little farther, and eat a little more than I expect or prepare for.

As I mentioned before, when you were first born we called you Baby Guy, but that shortly turned into Bebbers Guy, then Bebbers, and now just Bebs. Your nickname has also been adjectivized by us: bebberous is how we describe your personality. When you are especially extroverted (grin and wave at ALL the people!), when you insist on a certain order of food (carbs first, then fruit, then meat and veg), when you get crumple-faced over not doing Barnyard Dance fifty times more, when you gleefully pull all books off your bookshelf, you are being bebberous. Most of the time bebberousness is just funny, but sometimes it gets to be a bit much (like when you would rather run around your room naked instead of putting a diaper on post-bath). I guess there comes a point in every parent's journey where one must start thinking about discipline philosophies.

Crumple-faced over not wanting to put on your seatbelt.

Sometimes when you are being extra bebberous (or when I'm at school working with teenagers), I think about you becoming a Terrible Two or a Threenager, and one day a sulky adolescent, and I get scared. You're pretty dang fun now, but already showing your stubborn personality. Does it only go downhill from here? But then I think back to pre-parenthood, when I was afraid it was going to be all dreary responsibility and grim-faced sleep deprivation, and how pleasantly surprised I was by how fun a baby could be. I'm going to assume that the same principle holds true (and other parents further along the journey assure me it does) regarding your continued maturation, and that while I may look ahead and be afraid of what is to come (ridiculous reasons why my child is crying! tween sass! learning cuss words! rebellion!), there will be joy and delight to match and exceed my expectations.

love,
Mommy

Maturation = developing your brain (hat).

New this quarter:

• Walking, and almost running, has been the default for about two months now. Well-meaning people told us before that once you started walking, you would sleep better because you would tire yourself out. This has not proven true. Maybe I need to enroll you in baby marathon training? 
• You used to hate wearing shoes, immediately collapsing into a puddle every time I tried to put them on you. Thankfully, that changed once you realized that shoes = going out = so excite, much fun, very people to see (because, you know, extrovert). Now, when you've been home too long and are getting bored, you go grab your shoes and hold them out to me, like hello, we should go somewhere now. 

You also try to put on everyone else's shoes. 

• You understand directions now! Whether you choose to follow them, though, is another story. You like going out well enough that you obey when I ask you to fetch your shoes, and 80% of the time you lift your arms up when I say "over your head" so that you can undress at bath time. But if I'm asking you to stay still so I can change your diaper, forget it. 
• Decided book preferences: we are reaching the dreaded stage where you only want the same five books over and over again. Thankfully, none of them are too annoying: Barnyard Dance, Perfect Piggies, Polar Bear Polar Bear What Do You Hear, How Do Dinosaurs Love Their Cats, and Kittens. Two of them are by Sandra Boynton, whom I love, and two are about cats, and one is from our dear friend Shayna, so all in all I'm pretty okay with these choices. 
• Two way communication! You learned to sign "milk" at about ten months, but ironically you don't sign that anymore. You have, however, learned "please" and "more," plus pointing, which you use with great vehemence anytime you want something. You can also sign "all done" and "where," and actually say 貓貓, 包 , 奶 奶, "nana" for banana, and ball, but somehow have still not managed Mama. 

You were in heaven at IKEA when you discovered the huge bin of stuffed basketballs. 

• Sometimes I worry that I'm not teaching you enough normal vocabulary. Because of the toys you have available to play with, you recognize the words lobster, Mr. Frodo, Frankie the Hankie Whale, yardstick, and Android Babo. None of which are really useful, per se. 
• You have a well-developed "What is the most dangerous thing that I can touch right now?" radar. Given an entire dishwasher full of plastic Tupperware and rounded spoons, you will inevitably reach for the one knife. Standing on your tippytoes looking at the things on my sewing table, you will bypass the sleeve roll, the lint tray, the fabric, and the pattern paper, and make a swipe for the pin holder or the seam ripper. When you are extra clingy and insist on following me to the bathroom, you ignore the table of books (which normally you would be super into) go straight for the toilet plunger. Confronted with an entire living room floor covered with toys and books, you will find the one teeny tiny clump of cat hair and try to eat that. I think that falls under the category of Worst Superpower Ever.
• Evidence of the development of a schema (albeit imperfect) for the concept of cat. You know Walnut, of course, and (most endearingly) start every morning with running through the house looking for your adored older brother, yelling  "貓貓貓貓貓貓貓貓!" while holding up your hands in a "where" motion. When you find him, you get really excited and point at him (while yelling some more). It took a little longer for you to generalize that Walnut is not the only 貓 in the world; other cats are also 貓貓. Then you went overboard and started assuming that all fuzzy things were 貓貓, so dogs and faux fur pillows also got labeled as 貓貓. It took a little longer, but just recently you've learned how to recognize illustrated cats as 1) also 貓貓, and 2) different from other illustrated animals, which I think is pretty incredible. Crowning moment: I put on a sweatshirt with a stylized cat face on it and you pointed at it and yelled "貓貓!" I had never shown you that shirt before, so the fact that you recognized it as a cat was pretty awesome. 

You very much enjoyed Gemma Corell's cat doodling book.

• You are a big fan of garbage trucks, birds, being held upside down, balls of all kinds, looking at artwork up on walls, the fake elephant trumpeting noise that I make, watching live basketball, belly blasting Daddy, and being at school. You are deathly afraid of horseflies, mildly afraid of the giant bears at Costco, and hate getting out of the bath, wearing socks while eating,wearing hats, teeth brushing, and washing your face after meals. 

Trying to get a normal, non-blurry picture of you wearing a fedora is nigh impossible. 

• Favorite foods: cheese, Cuties, noodles of all ethnicities (Italian pasta, ramen, udon, jap chae, chow mein), cheese, berries of all kinds, cheese, jellyfish (!) and豆苗 (we discovered this at a Chinese wedding banquet), pinto beans, cheese, and oh, did I mention cheese? 

You are not a fan of meat in general. One time you discovered that Walnut likes turkey, so you fed him and laughed like crazy when he ate out of your hand. 

Bebberous idiosyncracies:

• Ever since you learned how to safely get down off of the couch by scooting on your tummy to land feet first on the floor, you've sporadically employed this method of getting "off" of texture changes, e.g. scooting off the edge of the rug onto the laminate flooring, scooting off of a piece of fabric onto the carpet, etc. It's ridiculously cute. 
• You like being carried up and down stairs. Maybe it's the novelty of stairs, because we don't have any at home, but once you discover that a place has stairs, you will, despite many attempts at distraction, keep returning to them and insisting on going up and down ad nauseum. This has happened at friends' houses, at school, at the industrial park where Daddy plays basketball, and at church. 
• You like comparing the cereal that you're eating to the picture on the box. It's for people like you that cereal companies need to add the disclaimer "enlarged to show texture."

• When you get ahold of something you really like (e.g. a phone, the remote control, Walnut's feather-on-a-stick toy, etc.), you like to bring it over to my side of the bed, climb up, and lie on your back while holding your prize in the air, admiring it and savoring your possession of it.
• Not an idiosyncrasy, but still worth noting: people always say you look just like your daddy. Strangers have come up to say this to us. We have memorialized this with side by side pictures:

Goodbye, 嫲嫲

Dear Zachary,

One of the major reasons why we moved back to the Bay Area from SoCal was so that you could spend more time with your grandparents. Because our grandparents were in Hong Kong, we didn't get to enjoy a close relationship with them, so we had hopes that your childhood would be different. Alas, you will probably not remember the time you spent with your 嫲嫲. Tragically, she passed away unexpectedly when you were not yet fifteen months old. However, we are so incredibly grateful for the time you did have with her.

Your 嫲嫲 loved you so much; even though she spent a lot of the year in Philly, the times she did spend with you were special. When you were first born, she spent hours holding you while you napped, a happy baby burrito in her arms. When you were awake, you loved lying in her lap, kicking her tummy. When she came back for a long visit when you were half a year old, she spent so much time trying to cook and feed you nutritious first foods. You loved the pork and Chinese veggies that she made. When you got a little older, you refused to eat the specially set aside curried pumpkin sans curry; you demanded the full experience of her flavorful cooking. I'm so glad you got to taste all of her nuanced sauces, nutritionally recommended sodium levels be hanged.

In between visits, you Facetimed regularly with her and she delighted in each new skill -- rolling over, sitting up, banging on the piano, crawling, and pulling up to stand -- even if the development meant that most of the call was spent trying to keep you from grabbing the iPad. As you got older, you definitely recognized her voice and when she finally came back to see you in person, you greeted her with a big toothy grin.

During her last visit, besides savoring her cooking, you also got to spend lots of quality time reading with her. While you are usually an incredibly active baby, always on the go and never content to sit still, it was different with her. Because of her bad knee, she couldn't run around with you, but it was as if you understood. She was the only one you were happy to snuggle with. She patiently sat with you and made noises for all the animals in your picture books. TBPH, even though I'm your mother, I didn't have as much patience as she did for humoring your desire to hear continuous mooing for thirty minutes.

Grandmothers are stereotypically portrayed as loving women who knit blankets and sweaters for their grandchildren and cook delicious, comforting meals. The secret to their handiwork, of course, is the love in every stitch of the blanket, the love stirred for hours into the simmering pots. Nobody ever talks, though, about the love vocalized in every moo, baa, and oink.

I know you won't remember these times with her, but I hope one day you can read this and know without a doubt that she loved you so very much. I wish you could have had the experience of growing up with her presence in your life, as she was a generous, compassionate, feisty woman who loved God and people. Her legacy lives on in your father, and hopefully will continue in you one day.

See that yellow blanket? She knit that for you!

How the First Year Went

My dear little boy,

I'm probably repeating the cry of millions of mothers through the ages, but I can't believe you're growing up so fast! How has it been a year already? We started out by calling you Baby Guy, but cannot in good conscience call you a baby anymore; it's Little Man now, especially since you started toddling a week ago.

A year ago, you were a slightly-squashed looking (but still adorable to me) little baby who couldn't do anything but eat, cry, and excrete (note that I left sleep out of that list, because you were a notoriously awake newborn), and now you're a toddler who can basically eat everything we eat, say "mama," and take off like a rocket when you don't want your diaper changed. A year ago, I was thirty-five pounds heavier and much better rested, but also much more selfish and less compassionate. Now, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight (phew! I was seriously worried that I wouldn't be able to wear any of my cool handmade clothes anymore) and short on sleep, but I'd like to think I'm a better person now. You have challenged me in so many ways, but (spoiler alert: another mommy cliche coming) I wouldn't trade the last year for anything.

Last night Daddy and I were reminiscing about the last year and talking about how the reality of parenting did or did not match up to our expectations; we both agreed that we had been expecting all the difficulties, but what we were surprised about was how much fun it was. You are a remarkably fun little boy, and it's a pleasure to see you grow and learn. Thanks for defying our expectations, Zachary. And based on the way you recklessly climb on everything, it seems you think you can defy gravity as well!

Love you so, so much.

Mommy

New this month:

• Toddling: You can take several steps unassisted now! You still rely on crawling 95% of the time, though, since it's much faster. 
• Talking: Kind of. You inconsistently call me mama; I don't think you know it's a name for me, it's more like "hmm, if I say these syllables everyone exclaims and claps, and Mommy comes running over to swoop me up and kiss me." You also inconsistently say "貓貓" when you see Walnut or cat pictures in your books. This, of course, delights me to no end. So much better than having your first word be "poop" the way a certain doctor-to-be kept hoping.
• Putting in and taking out: You are starting to realize that things can be inside other things, so you've been exploring what objects can fit inside various containers and boxes. The first time you deliberately put a link into the gelato container, I cheered so much that you kept putting that one link in and out, instead of putting the other nineteen links in. 
• Student babysitters: Twice a week, senior girls take turns watching you during lunchtime so that I can get copies made and tutoring done. As far as I know, you've been fine with all the new faces. You little extrovert, you!
• Stealing food: Every afternoon, I sit down and try to eat an apple/peach/plum/some other fruit with a core, and inevitably as soon as you realize that there's eating going on that you're not part of, you come over and sit on my lap and grab it. And then get angry when I try to take a bite. So then you end up finishing my fruit for me. I suppose there are worse diet plans out there; angry baby steals all your food after two bites sounds better to me than only drinking lemon juice with cayenne powder or some such nonsense...

Here, you've just stolen Daddy's banana. You ended up eating two-thirds of it. 

One year old stats: 

• You have grown over ten inches, almost tripled your weight, and sprouted eight teeth. 
• You are now wearing size three diapers, 12-18m clothing, and no shoes yet. 
• You have now slept for almost 4800 hours, used almost 2000 diapers, and drank almost 8 gallons of expressed milk. I have spent over 600 hours nursing you (and making good use of my smartphone and Netflix subscription). 
• Your favorite foods are avocado, blueberries, watermelon, cheese, and carbs of all kinds, except rice. What kind of Asian baby are you?!
• Favorite toys include the IKEA stacking cups, Frodo, the (sealed) tube of diaper rash cream, and my yardstick. You love playing throw-Frodo-off-the-couch, patty cake, and hide and seek/peekaboo. Dancing to "Barnyard Dance" is also a favorite activity. 
• Favorite books are CAT, The Bellybutton Book, and two Chinese animal books that 爺爺 got you in Hong Kong.

When I ask you to find the cow, you turn to the right page 75% of the time. 

Your first birthday party:

The parenting book that Daddy got recommends keeping a first birthday party small and short and simple so as to avoid overstimulating a baby -- invite no more than 6-8 adults and 2-3 other babies, keeping the whole even less than 1.5 hours -- but we didn't read that part until after the party, so we ended up having 25 adults and six kids over for three hours. Oops. Even so, you did great and loved getting to see so many people and play with all your little friends, and you didn't even cry when we sang happy birthday to you! Somehow, in all the chaos, I managed to totally forget to take any pictures though. Oops again. 

I did, however, manage to take this picture of all your pictures! So meta, I know,

On the day of your actual birthday we had a family dinner with a special healthy baby cupcake for you (applesauce, no refined sugar, zucchini baked into it). I forgot to get yogurt for the frosting so we made do with whipped cream, and then I didn't think to put it on a nice plate so the picture of the cupcake sitting on the sad little cooling rack is a little silly. Oops for a third time. 

But hey, you survived a year, we survived a year, and everyone is happy and thriving despite all the oopses. I think that's an accomplishment! 

I think this picture accurately sums up everyone's feelings about the first year as a family of four: Mommy and Daddy are thrilled, Walnut is indifferent/not amused, and you're wondering what the big deal is. 

How the Eleventh Month Went

With apologies to Jane Austen:

"Are any of your teeth out, Master Zachary?''

"Yes, Ma'am, eight.''

"Eight! -- What, all front teeth out at once? Very odd! -- And you only a baby. -- A baby eating meats and other solid food before the molars are out! Your parents' cooking must be very tasty."

"Yes, my parents are foodies. Perhaps I am full young to be much eating solids. But really, Ma'am, I think it would be very hard upon babies, that they should not have their share of food and amusement because the molars may not have the means or inclination to sprout early. -- The baby has as good a right to the pleasures of the dinner table as the toddler. And to be kept back on such a motive! -- I think it would not be very likely to promote love of mealtimes and family fellowship.'' 

"Upon my word,'' said her ladyship, "you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person. -- Pray, what is your age?''

"With eight teeth out,'' replied Zachary smiling, "your Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.''

Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished at not receiving a direct answer; and Zachary suspected himself to be the first creature who had ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence!

"You cannot be more than one, I am sure, -- therefore you need not conceal your age.''

"I am not yet twelve months.''

Dear Zachary,

Oh, our friends warned us. They shook their fingers in our faces (actually they didn't) and made grim pronouncements about the day you would develop firm opinions and how it would throw a wrench in our grand plans. We thought we still had some time before that happened, but now we are facing the reality of a little boy with very decided opinions, despite your tender age.

We used to be able to just sing little songs to you and you'd be content to lie back and have your diaper changed, but now you insist on having a toy to hold onto or else it turns into an octopus wrestling match. And it can't be just any old toy! We must present you with eight choices in succession (dinosaur? shusher? dingly bell? vaseline jar? squishy book? non-squishy book? wooden block? Sophie?) and you will carefully examine each one before rejecting it, even if it was an acceptable choice yesterday. If it's a good day you will choose an actual toy, and if you're extra-opinionated you'll want a non-toy, like the TV remote. Once you find the right changing companion, you will contentedly lie back like when you were three months old.

We used to be able to give you whatever random low-sodium, no added sugar, no preservatives, organic food, and you would happily gobble it down, thrilled with the mere prospect of eating solids. Now, if we try to tempt you with expensive organic avocado or zucchini fresh from the backyard garden, you'll throw it overboard if you see that we are not eating the same thing. If Mommy and Daddy are eating spicy seafood ramen with tons of sodium because it's a work night and everyone is too tired to cook, you want some of that. How dare we eat junk and not share it with you! Alternately, sometimes you are perfectly willing to eat your healthy local produce, as long as we offer it in the correct order. Raspberries first? I SEE THROUGH YOUR MURDER PLOT. Raspberries after eating some toast? Why thank you very much, Mommy, I love raspberries! And then sometimes the mode of offering doesn't please you: yogurt on a baby spoon? ARE YOU TRYING TO POISON ME, WOMAN? Yogurt on a big metal spoon? Oooh, yogurt is the best, we should always have yogurt!

Poor benighted Walnut has suffered the most, now that you have opinions. We used to be able to just direct your attention elsewhere (look! a squeaky toy!), but now you will chase him all over the house, climb the couch, and tree him like Billy's hunting hounds with a raccoon in Where the Red Fern Grows. You want so badly to just squeeze the ever-loving heck out of him; you wonder why your over-enthusiastic petting (read: whacking and hair-pulling) isn't better received; even when he's safe from your grabby hands, thanks to the baby gates,  you can't tear your eyes away from him and will wait patiently (if delighted squeal-screaming can be termed patient) at the gate for him to finish eating and come play. And who can blame you? After all, if a giant fluffy thing as big as me were walking around just out of reach, I, too, would react like you. When we drag you away, we are treated with full-blown crumpled-face WHY DO YOU HATE ME melt-down tears. Thankfully, you are getting a *little* better about petting him gently, and he is generally pretty patient about it all.

But he's so fluffy, I wanna die!!!

Despite the inconveniences of you having so many opinions, I'm still thrilled and amused to see you developing your own mind, as it means you are becoming your own person. Of course, I may feel differently when you're a teenager and asserting yourself in more weighty matters than food-ordering and cat-loving (what if you *gasp* decide you want a dog one day???)... Still, if God can give Adam and Eve the choice between good and evil, I suppose I, too, need to let you make your own decisions, even when they lead to consequences. Right now the worst thing that can happen is getting scratched by Walnut, but one day there'll be more at stake. I hope I can do my part in helping you learn to make good choices.

love,
Mommy

New this month (besides having opinions):

• You were just starting to work on climbing on and off of things at the end of last month, and now you are totally pro at it. This ability makes me less worried that you'll dive headfirst off the couch, but it also means that you can climb up to lick the router whenever you want. 
• You can now sign "milk." As with climbing, this is an achievement not without dangers. You can more effectively communicate when you want to nurse, but that means you sign it every ten minutes, then nurse for thirty seconds. You're a snacker, you are. You also make the sign for milk whenever you want something, you like something, you're anxious about something, or you don't want to wait for something.  -___-
• Standing in short bursts. You've been known to stand for up to thirty seconds at a time, unassisted. Unfortunately, you're a little like Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff in that you stand just fine until you realize you're standing, at which point you get so shocked that you promptly plop back down.
• Deliberately imitating me. When I use the plush IKEA leek to beat the pie pan, you immediately crawl over and try to mimic my actions. When I pat Walnut gently, you giggle madly first, then come over and try to pat him too. Having spent several years teaching my AP Psych students about Albert Bandura and the Bobo doll, I realize I need to be very, very careful from here on out. 
• Blowing raspberries. You learned to do this by imitating Daddy, but sometimes you can't quite get the lip vibration right so you just go "Buh! Buh! Mmmmm-buh!" It's super cute. 
• "Reading" books. Oh, be still my thrilling heart! It's been so gratifying for me to see you spend up to fifteen minutes at a time quietly flipping through your books (instead of just trying to chew on them), looking at the pages and occasionally patting the textured books. I hope you love reading one day for real! 

And it's a book about cats to boot! There's a dog version of this book too, but we refuse to get it. 

Likes:

• Games only Daddy plays. There are some things that only daddies do, whether because they're the only ones willing or able to. You love riding on Daddy's shoulders (and pulling his hair) and being held upside-down!
• Meat, carbs, and cheese. Despite my best efforts to get you to love fruit and veggies, it seems that I have birthed a Midwestern boy. Once the meat, bread, pasta, or cheese make an appearance, all fruit and veggies go overboard. I guess I can't really blame you, seeing as how I love them too. Of course, I also love fruit and veggies, so maybe you will one day, too. 
• Walnut. I know I've said in previous months that you love your brother, but this month that's become even more evident. You squeal and throw your arms up when you see him, and if he doesn't run away after that overenthusiastic greeting, then you will. Not. Leave. Him. Alone. As long as he's in a room, you will try to smother him (sometimes literally) with your affections. Usually you start out patting gently, but as you get more excited this inevitably progresses to whacking, body-slamming, and tail-grabbing if we don't stop you.
• Secure bases. Like reading, this warms my heart. Teaching psych has made me afraid that you would not develop a secure attachment style, but it looks like you're okay! You are happy to explore new places as long as you can come back for a reassuring hug every so often, then you're off again. And lest I feel too special, your babysitter at school reports the same thing, so I guess I'm not the only one who's an acceptable home base.  

Dislikes:

• Being separated from Mommy. Alas, separation anxiety is well and truly here. You cried for the first time last Sunday when I left you at the church nursery, you cried when I walked by on the way to my next class and didn't pick you up, you cry when I leave you on the other side of the baby gate in order to prep dinner.
• Being denied. Now that you have so many opinions, you do not hesitate to let us know when you're angry about not getting your way. Your crumpled up cry-yelling face is equal parts heart-wrenching, guilt-inducing, and amusing in its extremity over something relatively minor. I now understand why there are so many submissions for the "Reasons Why My Child Is Crying" tumblr.
• Hygiene. Washing your hands, cutting your nails, changing your diaper, and brushing your teeth are all still trials. The only acceptable hygiene ritual is cleaning out your ears with q-tips. 

"Mom. I am having a private moment with my friend here. Please stop taking pictures."

Unlikely objects you're friends/obsessed with:

• The vacuum cleaner. Every time I take it out, you have to feel it up and try to lick it all over. You sit mesmerized the whole time I vacuum, watching as two of your favorite beings suck up the hair shed by another favorite being.
• The printer. If we let you into Daddy's office, you make a beeline for the printer and try to press all the buttons. One time you managed to make it scan and copy a blank page; I'm pretty sure that was the highlight of your week.
• The wall furnace. It's got so many nice little dusty holes in the grate for you to stick your fingers in, and every attempt to lick it elicits a lovely reaction from Mommy that results in your being swept up and away.
• The portable air filter at home in SF. Somehow you always manage to zero in on the dirtiest/most dangerous/most inconvenient item to play with...like the super-light air filter that inevitably tips over when you pull up on it. 
• The elephant humidifier. I used to love playing with humidifiers too, so you definitely take after me in this matter. You love poking the nose where the vapor comes out, but nothing beats turning the dial to max. We've had the water tank run out halfway through the night more than once because you turned it all the way up. Don't you know we're in a drought?!

"I do what I want 'cause a pirate is free! I am a pirate! Yar har fiddle dee fee, being a pirate is all that I need!"

How the Tenth Month Went

Dear Zachary,

Your father has this book called The New Father: A Dad's Guide to the First Year that details what we should be expecting regarding your development each month. For this month, it said "Unless your baby is extremely active, [he] won't make many big advances in motor skills this month." To a certain extent, that's true, as you are still just crawling and cruising, but you're definitely even faster, surer, and more daring than last month.

Now that your speed/movement is at like, an 8 (normal human is 6), you are that much closer to your goal of finally being able to unlock various achievements! Based on my observations, your goals seem to be:

1. Lick all the Apple products in the house. With three iPhones, two iPads, two laptops, and one iMac, you certainly have a ways to go. I think you're at four out of eight right now. 
2. Drink out of my water mug instead of your own. I'm not sure why mine is so appealing, especially since the straw isn't nice and soft and chewy silicone like yours, but someone else's is always better, I guess. 
3. Pull the router down off the back of the couch. If anyone is even remotely close to the couch, you will gladly use their leg as a stepping stone to climb up onto the couch so that you can finally destroy that nefarious black box with all the blinking lights. 
4. Play with all the small brown things associated with your brother. Kibble, litter, catnip beaver, fur tumbleweeds -- all of them need to be investigated. Now that you're faster than ever, we've had some close calls. 
5. Get into Daddy's closet to investigate all the tasty treats, namely the cedar block and the dry cleaning bags. 

I suppose it doesn't really help that we make all of those things, with the exception of #3, look really interesting. We do spend a fair amount of time with each of them, whether it be to check email, figure out when you need to nap, hydrating, taking care of Walnut, or deciding what to wear, and you are so, so, incredibly curious. No matter how we try to distract you or set up a barricade around the interesting object, you will not be deterred -- object permanence has set in -- and will continue trying (and crying) to reach that desired object. 

There have been a lot of articles written lately about people suffering from FoMO, or "fear of missing out," and I'm pretty sure you have an acute case. Even if you seem perfectly content playing with your stacking cups, the second I turn my attention elsewhere, you need to check it out too just in case it's more interesting than what you're doing. And if there are lots of people over, then napping/sleeping really turns into a struggle because WAIT WHAT MIGHT ALL THOSE PEOPLE BE DOING WITHOUT ME??? 

I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this, other than to say that I hope one day you turn that indefatigable drive and insatiable curiosity to worthy causes. Maybe you'll make some great scientific discovery (my preference) or become a great athlete (Daddy's preference, although it doesn't look like you're going to be that left-handed relief pitcher since your right hand is emerging as the dominant one), or maybe you'll just be an incredibly faithful family man who does what needs to be done (even better option than the previous two), but at any rate I'm reminded of the worship song that goes "single-minded, whole-hearted, one thing I ask...that I may follow after You all of my days." Hopefully that will be the case for you, and no matter what you grow up to be, I need to remember to be faithful in praying that for you. 

love,

Mommy

Your likes and dislikes basically remain unchanged since last month, so let's just focus on what's new this month:

• Clapping! After lots of examples, guided practice, and then independent practice, you are now an accomplished clapper, which is pretty fun. Even more fun, though, has been seeing you learn when clapping is appropriate. At first you would just do it because we were doing it, but eventually you figured out that clapping comes after an achievement, so you'll clap for other people (like other babies when they have successfully stacked blocks), when you hear someone say "good job," or when you like what someone else is doing. It's pretty heart-warming to see you be so encouraging. We're still working on high-fiving and waving, though.
• Learning to deliberately throw food you don't like on the floor. Before, I never used to be quite sure if you were dropping food because you were just bad at holding onto it, but now I know. You will take the offending zucchini, hold it over the edge of the highchair tray, look me in the eye, and then release it. But slippery little round blueberries have no trouble staying in your hands, so it's pretty obvious when you don't want to eat something. 
• Holding your arms up over your head when you don't want to be picked up. If you're busy playing and we want to -- oh the horrors -- pick you up under your armpits to put some pants on you, you'll raise your arms and just sliiiiide out of our grasp like some elastic, shapeshifting superhero. So smart.
• Growing. You grew out of your infant carseat and have transitioned into the big kid convertible seat and now need to use a "real" stroller when we go out! Curse you for being so freaking long...j/k.
• More teeth! You have four teeth on the top and two on the bottom plus two more just barely poking through the gums. Teething has been pretty hard on your sleep. Short naps and 5AM wakings are not fun.
• Climbing-wise, you can get on top of the plastic bins in your room now, and have tentatively learned to get off the bed and couch legs-first instead of head first. I say tentatively because you've only done it twice starting yesterday, and I'm not yet confident enough to be able to take my eyes off of you. 
• Acting like a cetacean. You love throwing yourself sideways onto piles of pillows like some kind of weird quasi-breach. After you throw yourself into the pillows, you'll squirm around until you've mushed your face into all that glorious textile sensation and then flip over and grin. It's super cute, but it also leaves slobber marks on everything. 
• Splashing in the bath. Around the same time you discovered clapping, you discovered that similar hand motions can move large quantities of water into the air and out of the tub. This brings you great delight but has discouraged your brother from hanging around to watch bath time. 
• "Swimming." After seeing how much fun you had with splashing in a small tub of water, we decided to try you in a larger body of water. The jury's still out, though, on how you feel about being in such a large pool. We've been going once or twice a week this month since it's been so warm, and while you don't cry and are no longer clinging to my neck for dear life, you're also not obviously enjoying yourself. Your favorite part of going to the pool still seems to be the abundance of rubber duckies to chew on. 

• The beginnings of separation anxiety. I was really, really, really hoping you'd be among the minority that doesn't go through this, but it looks like that's not going to be the case. You're still okay with being left in the church nursery, but you have a clear preference for being within two feet of me. Even being held by Daddy isn't good enough when it's book-reading and lullaby-singing time. We'll see how things progress when we go back to school!

Dubious face courtesy of the cold ice in your hands.

How the Ninth Month Went

Dear Zachary,

We have decided that you are the Chris Traeger of babies. Every day, you wake up with a huge smile (probably because you don't have to waste time sleeping anymore) and get going. And once you get going, you just don't stop. As Chris Traeger says, “If I keep my body moving, and my mind occupied at all times, I will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair.” (For you, that bottomless pit of despair is nap time.) You have become a ridiculously fast crawler, crawling almost as fast as Mommy and Daddy walk, and you can get into things you're not supposed to two seconds after we turn our backs. The result of this is that we have turned into Mad-Eye Moody: "Constant vigilance!"

So many pictures this month are blurry because you're crawling so fast. 

Not only do you have Chris Traeger's remarkably toned body (for a baby), you are just overwhelmingly positive about almost everything. You spend a significant portion of your awake time with a huge grin on your face and cackling at how funny everything is. Generally you love strangers (knock on wood) and are happy to be left at the church nursery because yaaaayyyy more people and new experiences! You are fine getting into your car seat when we're at home because you know it means going out to see the world, but if we're out at a restaurant or somebody else's home and you need to be buckled in, it's instant sadness because alas, we are leaving all the fun and exciting new things.

Of course, we could just say you're like Dug the Dog from Up ("Hello, I have just met you and I love you!"), but our family policy against dogs doesn't allow me to compare you to one. But we love Parks & Rec, so comparing you to Chris Traeger is acceptable.

I know I said last month that you were getting more and more fun, and that statement still holds true. Your infectious laugh and easy smile have won you the admiration of many random strangers. I feel so blessed that I get to be your mother, and can only thank God that He saw fit to put you in our family. My prayer is that you continue to be a blessing to others even as you grow older, and that you never lose that joy and passion for living.

love,
Mommy

New this month:

• Last month we feared for your life after you learned to crawl and stand, but not to stop and sit back down. After several long weeks of watching your every move and still somehow managing to fail at protecting you from all the corners, walls, edges, and floors in the house (read: every hard surface. Why don't we live in a padded cell like psychiatric wards?), you have finally stopped going to sleep every night looking like you've been in a battle. Now that you can carefully squat back down after standing (and we have moved or covered as many dangerous things as we could), we average only three "I hit something" wails a day, as opposed to thirty. 

• You moved to your own room! I was especially petrified about this since you were still waking three or four times a night, and the thought of trekking down the hallway to get you that many times was unbearable. Thankfully, after a few nights of adjustment, you now only wake up once, usually right before we go to bed, for a quick feeding and then it's back to sleep until 6:30 or 7 am. Hallelujah, God is good. 
• You learned how to scale the Lovesac. Now it's all fun-fun-silly-willy zipping up there and watching Mommy and Daddy rush over to stop you from trying to climb onto the desk from your new vantage point. 
• Finally, drinking water is a thing. I was beginning to worry that you would forever be dependent solely on breastmilk for hydration, as we tried progressively more and more expensive drinking vessels (free shot glass --> IKEA sippy cup --> disposable sippy cup --> Tommee Tippee sippy cup --> $8 Munchkin weighted straw cup finally won). I think the hot weather and your increased activity level helped a lot.
• First time on the swings: we thought you would love it, based on how much you love being swung around in the air by Daddy. Turns out what you loved was the Daddy part, and not the swinging itself, as you were ambivalent at best and slightly freaked out at worst. 

• You have five teeth! Oddly enough, the fifth one to come in was next to your top left tooth, and not on the bottom like all the books say should happen. I am beginning to regret our habit of sticking a finger into your mouth to sooth you when you get angry in the car. 
• We were brave/foolish and took you on your first plane ride! We went to San Diego to celebrate our fifth anniversary and decided to splurge on a luxury hotel. While the plane ride was a breeze (a helpful bachelorette party sitting behind us took it on themselves to play peekaboo with you the whole time), sleeping in a new environment was not. I feel (only slightly) bad for all the rich old retirees who were staying at the US Grant and had to listen to you screaming about the indignities of oh, not being allowed to play with glass and wires, or having to sleep when it's 1 am. It was also the first time we left you with a non-friend/non-family babysitter, but you did just fine and we made it up to you by letting you have some of our Marine Room leftovers the next day. Are we spoiling you by letting you have such high-class experiences on your first vacation? Maybe, but it all evens out in the end because Daddy has decided that such a harrowing experience means you're not traveling again until you're five...just kidding. Sort of.

First plane flight, and you're all prepared with your barf bag!

Making food art on the Grant Grill's nice tablecloth.

New hotel room = endless things to explore.

Making new friends!

Likes: 

• Food: still avocado and blueberries, plus mac& cheese (is there a kid who doesn't like mac&cheese?), potatoes, fresh mozzarella, black beans, and the Marine Room's braised beef cheek. You have good taste, my son. 

• Entropy:  The joys of pulling every book off the shelf and every toy out of the bin have been discovered! It only takes you about three minutes to make your room look like a mess. The best part is that your colorful floor mat works perfectly as camouflage for colorful baby toys, so we are constantly stepping on/tripping over various books, cups, rattles, etc. I guess it's a good thing you have your own room, so it's all mostly contained?

• Toys: this month, the best toys are your IKEA stacking cups (you squeal with excitement when we make towers for you to knock over), the CCHS luggage tag, and the (unopened) tube of California Baby diaper rash cream.

• The ceiling fan: you were so mesmerized when we first turned it on, your head kept circling back and forth trying to follow the blades, and then you fell over while sitting (that hasn't happened in a long time!) because you were so busy looking up. 
• Chatting about new experiences: you've never been one for babbling, but maybe that's just because there wasn't anything worth discussing? We went to SD and suddenly you just would not stop talking! The first hour in the hotel was nonstop "Dab dab dab dab dab dab dab dab dab! Mmmm! Aaaahhhh ehhhh!" 

Dislikes:

• The official worst thing in the world: brushing your teeth. You are generally a cheerful, smiley baby, until we try to stick a bristled torture instrument into your mouth. Then it's full meltdown mode, complete with hysterical screaming, back-arching, and head tossing. Even Baby Einstein videos don't work as distraction, and normally you're mesmerized by screens. Considering the wide variety of items you've stuck into your mouth, I just don't understand what's so bad about a toothbrush. I thought diaper changes last month were bad, but that was nothing compared to this. 
• That's about it! As I said earlier, you are generally a happy, good-natured baby. 

Even when Mommy and Daddy do silly things like put you into the Marine Room bag just to see if you'll fit.

Animals you resemble: 

• A koala: you love clinging to us the way a koala does to a eucalyptus tree. It's really cute how hard you hug, until you start pinching. 
• A raccoon: just like how they like handling their food before eating, you pass your food back and forth from hand to hand, even holding it up to examine it from all angles, before you finally shove it into your mouth. 
• A dog: despite our family's official policy of not believing in dogs, you are all too happy to behave like one: chewing up shoes when you can get them, eating scraps off the floor if you find them, and carrying around toys in your mouth as you crawl around (although your Auntie Emily helpfully points out that this could actually be considered a pirate-with-a-knife type of move). 

• A cat: anything that is specifically meant for you is automatically not interesting, by virtue of us having spent money and/or time in preparing it for you. Toys bought specifically for you? food prepared just for you? Nope, not having any of it. Things that we most want you not to get into, though...those are immensely fascinating. It's uncanny how Walnut knows when an article of black clothing is set down and how you know where the most dangerous objects are. Also like your big brother, you are supremely interested in the contents of his food bowl. Looks like it's time to start putting it up on the counter...