Twenty-Two Months

Dear Zachary,

The theme of these last few months has been inconsistency; your "schedule" kept changing as we dealt with the AP exam prep rush, the end of the school year, teacher in-service, packing and moving to the new campus, weddings, going on vacation to Seattle, and then finally settling into summer vacation. And just as we're getting the hang of being together alldayeveryday, things are going to change again when school starts up in a couple of weeks. Still, you've been remarkably flexible, all things considered, and generally you're amiable to schedule changes. As long as you've got snacks and toys, you're pretty good. I do see some clouds on the horizon though ("Crebain from Dunland!") in your tiny meltdowns over not getting your way. It remains to be seen whether we will somehow miraculously escape the epic toddler tantrums I've been warned about.

You were such a trooper at the two weddings we went to this summer!
There are still two more to go to this year, so we'll see how things go. 

In the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to enjoy this time where you're 1) pretty good at understanding what I say and following directions, but 2) not verbal enough to express opinions about my decisions, and 3) not old enough to stage a full-blown protest. You're learning new things every day and constantly surprising me with what you're capable of, so things are pretty fun. I almost feel bad about having to go back to school!

love,

Mommy

I'm pretty sure you would feel just fine about going back to school though...more things to climb on!

Some snippets about you from the last three months:

Language Skills: I was starting to be worried about your not talking more, but in the last two weeks you've been picking up 1-3 new words a day. I'm glad I was patient and trusted you to have your own pace of development, because it is so fun to see you decide on your word(s) of the day! It is slightly less fun to have to talk to you about that thing all day, but the plus side of waiting and waiting and waiting to hear you talk more is that I'm more willing to discuss cows a hundred times in a morning? Some of the most recent additions to your vocabulary are yeah (because when you yell "Mama!" all day, I always respond with "yeah?"), which is fun because now you can finally answer questions in the affirmative, cow (helpful because your previous word for cow, "mmmm," was easy to mishear), lion (I told you we were going to the zoo and you decided that that was impetus enough; besides, how else would you be able to ask fifty times on the way to the zoo if there would be lions?), sit (which unfortunately sounds a lot like "shit"), done (you yell it so triumphantly when you decide you're done with dinner), and wow (you draw this one out so that you sound like you're extra impressed). Besides picking up new words, you are also better at using your signs to communicate when you want something. Before, I would guess at what you wanted and prompt you to make the sign, but now you'll spontaneously sign "eat" or "water" or "noodles" to make your requests known. Friends of older toddlers warn me that when you have sentences, I'll long for the preverbal days, but right now I'm just excited to see two-way communication!

You are such a ham! You had way too much fun smooshing your face against the office window (and licking it) at the new building for a delighted (and slightly horrified) audience. 

Motor Skills: It turns out that you just needed to play with some toddler friends in order to be inspired to climb playground structures. Cassidy has been great for getting you to try new things, and now you're a pro at climbing the playground structures and going down slides by yourself. You are also almost jumping (sometimes you just jerk your body in random directions and surprise yourself by lifting off), capable of climbing stairs while standing instead of crawling (this was motivated by the need to climb stairs while holding toys and snacks), and dextrous enough to actually put your Duplos together without help.

You did not want to climb onto this turtle yourself. I had to lift you onto it and you were dubious.

Intellectual Skills: You know SO MANY animals. Wait, scratch that, you know so many African savanna animals. You don't much care for the rainforest, temperate climes, or Arctic tundra, but boy do you know your lions, giraffes, zebras, cheetahs, leopards, gazelles, wildebeest, meerkats, rhinos, hippos, and warthogs! Barnyard animals are also a big hit, and throw in a couple of random other animals like wolves ("ah-oo"), dinosaurs ("dino"), and dragons ("dobby"). Shapes and colors are still beyond you, but you know that the number six comes after five. You take great delight in sorting and lining up your cars and animal models (and you know when one is missing). Just in the last few weeks, you've suddenly figured out imaginary play, so now your cow/pig/sheep/horse/giraffe friends must pretend to drink water, eat snacks, and take naps. You've decided that Daddy's calculator is a good substitute for a phone, so you'll ask calculator-Siri for cat pictures and then talk to imaginary people and hang up after saying "bye bye!" But best of all, you're starting to really make connections between what you read and the real world. When your balloon popped, you wanted to read Oh My Oh My Oh Dinosaurs over and over again to help you process this traumatic situation. You love looking at the baby hippo in the car seat in One Two Three (five works well for a ride in the car, as long as the car ride isn't too far)!

You still love Sandra Boynton and all the Costco books with real animal pictures, but a surprising favorite "story" is what I call Bebbers Went to the Zoo. It's your favorite story when we come back from a zoo: we trace our route along the zoo map and talk about the animals we saw. After Seattle, we told the story so many times that the map fell apart and had to be (secretly) recycled. 

Social Skills: We've finally given you more opportunities to play with kids more or less your age! Between playdates with Cassidy, hanging out with JJ during Bible study, and zoo trips with Wes, plus random other hang outs, you're beginning to recognize and have fun playing with other kids. So far (knock on wood) you seem open to sharing snacks and toys, and if things get taken from you you're pretty chill and can move on to another toy. There are some things you're fiercely possessive of, though -- one time Mommy gave your dino cup to Cassidy and you just. Could. Not. Handle. It. Meltdown ensued and long story short, I had to find a different cup for Cassidy. You've also gotten better at waving hi in greeting (usually only when prompted, but you will do so spontaneously to babies at the zoo/library/park) and high-fiving/fist-bumping for goodbye. Your hugs are sweet and usually happily given, but kisses (i.e. pressing your face into the other person's cheek, but without the smack sound -- which you're totally capable of doing -- and then in a very French manner, doing the same on the other cheek) are saved for a select few. You are also very good at petting animals gently and holding out a fist for smelling first, and one time you happily fed a dozen cheddar rockets to a random florist dog.

I love love love that Cassidy lives close enough to be your more-or-less regular playmate.
You're not as much a fan of Gus, though, since you get jealous of Mommy's attention. 

Current Favorites: 

• Little Baby Bum videos, especially Wheels on the Bus. Thank goodness there are ten versions, all different, or else I would go crazy. 
• Having an audience while you eat. An assortment of animals or vehicles provides moral support while Mommy and Daddy try to convince you to eat meat. 
• Noodles/pasta, berries, cherries, watermelon, peaches, cheese, raisins, and Trader Joe's honey whole wheat pretzel sticks. Still not a fan of meat (you will tolerate shrimp) or most green veg (peas and green beans are acceptable, occasionally broccoli or zucchini).
• Zoos/animals. We've been making good use of our Oakland zoo membership and going at least once a week, much to your delight. We even went to the Seattle and SF zoos, but those were less delightful because of the lack of elephants. Your favorite things to see are still the African savanna animals and petting zoo animals, but there are surprisingly few places that feature all your favorites in one place. 

 

The Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle let you get pretty close to the lion...statue, that is. 

I'm still impressed that you recognized these as giraffe ears and horns!
You loved these photo op backgrounds at the SF Zoo.

• Speed and excitement. Things like being tossed into the air, riding in the grocery cart when we push you really fast across the parking lot, and running up and down the hallway while Mommy, Daddy, and Walnut chase you. We are all shocked, frankly, that Walnut cooperates with this game. 
• Lining things up. On the windowsill, on tables, on the couch, on the magnet board, anywhere where you can take a visual inventory of all your animals and vehicles. 
• Escalators and elevators. Your favorite favorite thing in Seattle was riding the three flights of escalators at our hotel, and if we had let you I'm pretty sure your second favorite would have been pressing all the buttons in the elevator. 

The beginning of this obsession started with the moving sidewalk at the airport.

• Pressing buttons that result in a form of water being dispensed. You love sneaking into the kitchen and pressing the water dispenser on the fridge and getting cold water all over yourself. When we were staying in Seattle you loved running down the hall to get ice from the ice machine. 

I'm sure eating the ice afterward wasn't too shabby either if that face is anything to go by!

Nineteen Months

I really didn't intend to let so much time go by without blogging your growth and development, but having a toddler is really so much more work than a newborn! Well no, scratch that, there's just less nap time downtime for me to write. So no thoughtful letter this time around, just quickly jotted down stories so that I remember what you've been like the last five months.

I think this picture is fairly representative of the current state of things: Walnut is resigned and lazy but still secretly begging for belly pats, you are goofy and into elephants and balls. 

• For a while, you were really into this dollar store package of yellow balloons. You wanted to carry them everywhere and point to every balloon on the package sand say "Ball! Ball! Ball!" like some kind of weird balloon affirmation ritual. More than once, you tried to bring it to a meal, but we have a no toys and books at the table rule (the latter is really necessary for both you and me, less so for Daddy), so I took it away. You had the saddest crumple-face meltdown and refused to eat without your beloved package of balloons. I really wanted to 1) laugh at how pathetic the whole situation was, and 2) capitulate, because you were really so sad, but I held strong and calmly reminded you of the rule.  

Teary-eyed over a package of balloons. 

• You are really into looking at books with real animal pictures, so I've been checking those out at the library for you. You loved the last batch so much, they were overdue for three weeks and I ended up paying over $20 worth of fines. Oops. Generally I try to return library books without you in tow, because when you saw the book return machine eating "your" soccer ball book, you got seriously upset. I thought I was being so clever by returning them solo, but the other day we mentioned one of the library books and you promptly went running throughout the house looking for it. I'm amazed (and so proud) that that book apparently made such an impact that you remember it even a month later! You are indeed your mother's child. 

Even the SPCA fundraising booklet is acceptable reading material, because it has pictures of cats and dogs in it.

• You are still more of a cat person than a dog person. Granted, ever since Sandra Boynton's Doggies went missing a month ago, you've periodically pointed at its picture on the back of her other books, and asked where it is, but I like to tell myself that that's because you like inventorying, and not that you really like dogs that much. I console myself that every morning, your first order of business is finding Walnut to say hi, and every night, you have to say goodnight to Walnut and give him a kiss before you can sleep. When we go out, I am always surprised when you point and insist that you see a cat that I can't see, and then it turns out that you were right, there really was a cat. Or tiger. Or something else vaguely cat-like. Daddy says you're an S for cats. 
• You might also be a J. You love inventorying your toys: cars, dinosaur food, hotel shampoo bottles, wooden stacking rings, and gelato containers all get lined up, appraised, then rearranged into a more pleasing configuration. You sometimes get a little too eager to clean up and throw everything into the laundry basket regardless of whether or not it needs a wash. So far, you seem pretty amenable to cleaning up when I say it's time, knock on wood... 

You tried to help out the library by rearranging all the chairs in the kids area .

• Besides running, you can now walk backwards and on tippy-toes, as well as hang out in an Asian squat. You can also approximate a bow (to the horse and cow), strut (like a duck), and spin (with the chickens, cluck cluck cluck). You're also ridiculously fast, more resilient to falls, reaching to the third shelf of the EXPEDIT, and climbing the boxes barricading the penguin humidifier in your room. 
• But you are really cautious in new environments. When we go to the park, you do not want to let go and explore. Given your choice, you prefer to stay in my arms for the first several minutes when in a new place, then depending on how stimulating the environment is, you may cautiously explore. No amount of warming up time, though, seems to be enough to get you to climb a play structure. 
• I was beginning to think that you would escape having a security item, but now you seem fairly attached to your towel-turned-"bo"-blankie. After I spent all of third trimester lovingly sewing quilts and plushies for you, of course you would glom onto a mass-produced, non-marine-themed towel, of all things. From Hong Kong*, no less, so there's no buying replacements if this one goes missing. Sigh. It is pretty cute, though, seeing you pad around the house with a little light blue blankie like Linus. 

Not the greatest picture, but that's the towel blankie. This was the morning you insisted on wearing Daddy's sock. 

• Bebberousness is brought to you by the letter B. No surprise there, I suppose, considering we call you Bebbers, Mr. Bebs, Bub, etc. But what I meant to say is that most of your "vocabulary" is some variant of bo/ba/bee. Bo = ball or balloon or elephant or your blankie (which has elephants on it), ba = zebra or bus or bye or sheep or please pick me up, depending on the context, bee = berries or beans or babies or bellybutton or bear, again, depending on the context. But hey, at least you finally call me Mommy now, or rather, Mae, as in mah-mae. Of course, you also call the moon mae, but then I guess my name originates from the Greek goddess of the moon...perhaps you can somehow intuit name etymology? You have also picked up D sounds, but because Daddy always asks you to say "please, Daddy," you've come to the conclusion that dada = please. 
• You have become a self-proclaimed vegetarian/occasional pescatarian. If it were up to you, you would live on carbs, fruit, and beans/legumes. It's a struggle to get you to eat any chicken or pork, and you pretty much won't touch any form of beef. If you're in the mood, you'll eat fish. Cheese and egg are tolerable, but really, a diet of blueberries and strawberries would be just fine with you. Perhaps you are secretly a fruit bat? 

You didn't want your turkey, but Walnut was all too happy to take it off your hands for you. 

• When I was growing up, I was always hanging around church while my parents were in meetings. You, on the other hand, are always hanging around school while your mom does review sessions. Generally, I can't complain about your behavior; you're more or less quiet and you haven't destroyed anything or hurt yourself too badly, and you're willing to be pacified with snacks, calculators, and of course, selfies on student phones. It's ridiculous how good you are at taking selfies. I also hear that you enjoy Snapchat, so in that arena you're more up to date than I am! You have your favorite teachers (Mrs. Condit and Mrs. Sun, of course, and Lester) and students (Maggie, hands down) and classrooms (Mrs. Campbell's room, with all the tigers on the walls), so I hope you have as many fond memories as I do of that old church building.  

At school, ready to learn!

• It's scary how much you learn from watching and listening to us. You want so badly to be just like all the "adults" in your life! I say "adults" in quotation marks because, besides learning to vacuum the couch and under the table like I do (no lazy slapdash vacuuming for you!), you also learned to use phones to take a hundred selfies, probably from students at school. You also insist on having deodorant in your armpits (Daddy fakes the application with a covered stick), sitting on chairs at desks when at school, and trying to help dust the furniture when I do. If you can get ahold of a calculator, you hold it to your ear and babble for a while, then say "bye bye!"  I always knew toddlers were like little sponges, but I think it really sank in when you started saying "bad 貓貓!" every time you saw crumbs or other litter on the floor. It took me a while to figure out what you were saying, but one morning you pointed to a hairball under the piano bench and said "bad 貓貓!" and I suddenly realized that I always call Walnut a bad 貓貓 when he makes a mess exiting his litter box. Oops. Thankfully it's not a cuss word, but I do feel slightly bad every time you try to blame a mess on your big brother. Still, I have to laugh whenever we're at school and you exclaim "bad 貓貓!" when walking through the classrooms after kids have been messily snacking.  

Also not a cuss word, but still concerning? One time you pulled up Siri and babbled at it, and apparently Siri thought you asked for a sex movie.

• You are finally developing a sense of humor about incongruous statements/situations. You'll smile deviously and shake your head no when I ask if you're a little boy, then nod yes that you're a cat. You ask to wear your socks on your hands and laugh when you can't pick things up. If I put my shirt on you, you run to the mirror and giggle at your reflection. Lately, you've been requesting to be rolled up/tucked in with a blanket so that you look like a baby burrito once more.  

• You are such a busy little person. If you're not arranging all your toys, you are busy opening up all your containers and pouring out their contents, pulling all the books off your shelves, or toting your food pouches back and forth. There have been multiple occasions when Daddy has come home from work to find that his socks and boxers have all been rearranged because you took them all out, then put them back in (of your own accord!) in a different order. In the backyard, you love trotting back and forth with your little cup to water all the plants, and if the plant tags are close enough to the edge of the planter box, you will dutifully collect them all and present them to Daddy. 
• Everything needs to have a signature noise. I suppose that's really our own fault, what with emphasizing that cows go moo, sheep say baa, and three singing pigs say la la la. Unfortunately, that means I frequently have to improvise when you want to know what noise a giraffe makes (we settled on "nom nom nom" since they're ruminants), or a rabbit ("hippitty-hop"), or an alligator ("snap! snap!"). Worst improvisations: a snail (according to your Auntie Emily, "snurrrr....snurrrr...") and a beansta, because one time we tried Trader Joe's black bean rotini, which was nasty, but bean + pasta = beansta, which was too evocative of a name not to attempt illustrating, so I drew one on the whiteboard and then you wanted to know what noise it made, so Daddy decided that it could just say its name several times in quick succession, like a Pokemon. 

That's the beansta on the bottom left, with a grill and a blingy necklace and wielding a gun and a syringe full of drugs. "Beansta beansta!" On the right, next to the periodic table, is a Japanese beansta, courtesy of Auntie Emily. 

*You also LOVE the little public light bus model that Lester has in his office, so maybe we are indoctrinating you correctly, that Hong Kong is the best.

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!"