Lulla Cate: Ten Months Old {Beyond The Baby Book}

Little one is on the move. As in, crawling. Forward. Not rolling from across the room & getting herself lodged underneath furniture. Not stuck in reverse. Real true, hands & knees crawling. You go, girl.

I'm hopeful this newfound freedom in crawling helps to simmer this girl down a bit, I don't know, maybe make her a little more content with life. But so far, all it's really proven is now she has the ability to throw an all day hissy-fit and chase me down whilst doing so. 

She's a tough cookie, this one.

Forgive me. I don't mean to complain. I know I complained on the last update about our girl & now I'm complaining on this one & honestly, I don't mean to. Or want to. Really, I don't. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for my little Lulla Beans. I don't mean to appear insensitive to the women out there who desperately yearn to hold a child of their own, while I sit here griping about the one I have. Truly, I don't. But I also feel that if I came here & poured out words of how beautiful & wonderful & picture perfect our moments are, then I would be painting an image that isn't real.

Her very first crawl. Straight up made a b-line for the Legos.

I could list all of the stats--tell you she's measuring 25th% in weight & 10th% in height {we've got a little shorty on our hands. I love her tiny-ness}. I could tell you that on February 2nd, while sitting at my cousin's wedding reception, we discovered her first tooth {a bottom one} popping through. And shortly after that, a second one joined & now she sports the cutest little pair of tiny teeth ever. I could tell you that at ten months & two days, she started army crawling. And that two days after that, braced herself on her hands & knees & slowly but surely, crawled.  

I could tell you that she isn't all too thrilled about baby food & that she'd much rather go for the real grub.  She chows down on chicken, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, raspberries, blueberries, strawberries, peas, green beans, cheerios, salmon, rice--she really doesn't turn much down--as long as it isn't in mush form, anyways. Oh & how could I leave out the veggie straws? Girlfriend loves her some veggie straws. That's like her main staple food {They say 'veggie' in the name--they're healthy, okay? So what if they taste just exactly like a potato chip?} Only we don't call them veggie straws here at our house {thanks to my friend, Amy who first introduced them to Lulla}. Instead, we refer to them as 'ciggies'. Because well, the first time she took a hit off one  ate one, it looked like she was smoking a cigarette & so the name 'ciggies' sort of stuck. Of course Amy & I laughed. And took pictures. And texted each other for days about 'ciggies'. You should see how Lulla lights up when we offer her 'ciggies'. It's sort of hilarious. 

Infamous 'ciggie' picture

I could tell you that she loves board books that her favorite tv show is Peppa Pig. She seriously about breaks her neck to get a look at the tv when Peppa comes on. She only need hear the theme song & she's glued. And yes, sometimes I do sit her in front of it for thirty minutes when I need a little time out. Because there is nothing on the face of this earth that will keep this chick content for thirty minutes like that little British pig will. 

Here we have lined up, her favorite things trying to entice her to crawl: binky, brother's Legos, brother's sippy cup. But Peppa Pig came on the television. And as you can see, Peppa trumps everything.

I could tell you that she's learning to sign "more"  & "all done" & that she gets this combination of shy/proud smeared across her face when she does it. 

The milestones. The stats. The stuff scribbled in the pages of the baby books. I have to chuckle because at the end of the day, don't those baby books end up looking pretty similar?  I mean, they grow teeth. They lose teeth. They start solids. They start kindergarten. Don't get me wrong, all of those milestones are precious & document worthy & celebrated. I know, there I was sitting at dimly-lit table at my cousin's reception, with misty eyes, wanting to shout from the rooftops that my baby girl had just gotten her first tooth. I know as much as any momma that these little moments, they're everything. 

But I also know that when I come back here to this space a long time from now, I'll want to see more than the stats. I'll want to know where my head was, what my heart was feeling. I'll want to see motherhood & life & family. I'll want to be swept back to the days where pure chaos was the heartbeat of our home. Even if it isn't pretty right now. Even if I do meet my husband at the door many evenings with tears in my eyes, feeling so worn thin by the end of the day. Even if I do sit in the pediatrician's office begging him to tell me what in the world I can do to make my little girl stop with the incessant crying. Even if I'm beating myself up at this very moment with feelings of guilt for catching myself hurrying along Lulla's baby-ness, in hopes she will be a little more content once she's older & more independent. Even if I can't have an adult conversation because my brain feels too tired & foggy to form a paragraph. 

Even if it isn't all picture perfect & beautifully painted. I still want it. I want it documented. I want it recorded. I want to capture what is ours. 

Quite simply, Lulla Cate at ten months old is tough. It's a lot of tears. It's a lot less sleep. It's cranky & crabby & fussy & fidgety {not just Lulla, but all of us}. And I know it will all be okay. I know it's a phase & a season & I will blink & it will be over. And that will make me sad...& a little happy, too. 

And one other thing I know to be true...

that when I peek in at her tonight & see her lying there peacefully in her crib on her belly, with Lambie underneath her head, her back rising & falling with deep sleep breaths, the love I have for her will slay me. I know that no matter what the day held, no matter how many times I had wanted to rip my hair out, that I wouldn't trade that little baby girl of mine for anything in the entire world.