associated in random thought

six months.

dear jude,

six whole days ago, you turned six months old. that's half a year, girl. half.a.year. i am having a hard time processing this reality, because wasn't it just yesterday that you arrived? or wait. haven't you always been here? was there ever a time in my life that i did not know you? unfathomable.

once again i am belated in my letter to you, and you can blame that on my job. it's been overtime city for me, and so my days begin and end with you and i snuggled together in bed. guess why that is, my beloved daughter? yep, you're right: you refuse to sleep in your crib. you will nap alone in your moms' bed, as long as i nurse you to sleep. but you refuse to either fall asleep or stay asleep in your crib. once upon a time (i.e. until last week) a tight swaddle seemed to make crib sleep happen for you. but now? you're over it. with a vengeance. with a loud, red faced, deafening wail of a vengeance.

otherwise, jude, you are a delight. on december 12, you were adopted by your mama h. we began this process back in march, when you were a 7 month old fetus in my belly, and you kicked and rolled as we signed wills and background checks, etc. on the day of your adoption, you were pleased with the dress and leggings mama h chose for you, and you were downright delighted by the array of toys sitting in front of the judge. i think you missed the moment in which you were officially adopted. we missed it too, because you were all but climbing out of mama h's arms to choose your toy memento of the occasion: a beanie koala, which the judge mistakenly referred to as an elephant (on account of its greyness, presumably).

so. you are adopted and loved and protected under the law. glory be. in the future, i know we will look back upon this time with disbelief over the hurdles we had to clear in order to be a family. surely, we will be protected with equal rights. families like ours will officially be No Big Deal.

i am rushed to finish this letter to you, my love, and i apologize for that. suffice it to say you are growing like a crazy woman. if you weigh 25 lbs, it would be no shock. you are solid. and independent. you can stand and hold yourself up against the edge of the bathtub, the couch, etc. you rock back and forth on hands and knees, trying to crawl, but only moving backwards. this angers you to no end. for you are goal-oriented, and backwards motion is the ultimate fail for you. you seem to want to bypass crawling altogether, and spend more energy on hands and feet than hands and knees. your mothers are nervous. so are your pets.

it's christmas eve, jude. your world is about to be rocked with pretty packages full of presents and blinking lights and tipsy parents with flushed faces. we cannot wait to share the joy of the day with you. i hope that your first christmas seeps into your soul as a happy, peaceful foundation for the traditions we are beginning together. we're a messy, silly bunch, but we adore you, and so unbelievably happy that you are here. welcome to christmas, my girl. you are the end of our advent.

love,
mama

5 months.

(originally written on 11/29)

dear jude,

eleven days ago, you turned five months old. this means that, for eleven days, your dear old mom has been trying to get around to writing you a letter. our lives are all a bit busy right now, especially mine, and finding time to reflect thoughtfully has been really difficult. i am an unrelenting perfectionist, little one, and i confess that it is exhausting. not writing your letter until now has eaten away at me a little every day, and i've gotten more and more frustrated. here is a life lesson for you: don't do this. obsession over things you can't make perfect is a ridiculous waste of time and energy. you can't win at perfectionism. perfect never happens. ever.

but enough about me! this letter is all about you!

you grew up a whole lot this month. your bouncing skills have evolved into a kind of elaborate riverdancing. you are on your feet all the time. you thrill yourself for long periods of time by playing a little game called "stand-sit", wherein you stand up, and then sit down. over and over. big grins and drool ensue.

oh yes. drool. this month, you rolled out the new cascading waterfall kind of drool that only comes with teething. you've been periodically miserable over the state of your raw, wrecked gums, but a combination of teething tablets, baby teethers, and your beloved baby tylenol seem to make it all better. as of today, none of your evil teeth have poked through. you wouldn't think that true judging by your hardcore style of clamp-jawed nursing. but i digress.

while we're on the subject of health and medicine, i must say that we are holding out a lot of hope that you will grow out of your constant ear and eye infections. they make you so sad and miserable and goopy-eyed, and they also keep you awake. this means you want to be snuggled up with us at 3 am, but not in a sleepy way. you want to be entertained at 3 am. your long-suffering mama h often takes you into the other room so i can sleep, but jude, it would seriously make all our lives better if you could just get over the infections. thank you.

this month was a very important one in the grand scheme of things as well. you sat on my lap on november 4, as we watched live reports of barack obama being elected president. (you voted for him in early elections.) i am so proud that, even before your first birthday, you got to see a black man elected. this bodes so well, i think, for how your generation will view race. "black president?" you'll all ask. "what's the big deal? we have an asian lesbian as president now."

november 4 was a sad day for families like ours in california, however. in your history books, i'm sure you will read about prop 8, and the revolution it sparked. all over the country, people protested in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in california, and we joined them here in austin. we stood downtown at city hall on a blustery, impossibly sunny day, you decked out in your i <3 my moms tshirt from grandmas mary and nancy. you smiled and cooed and snuggled close to me. we ran into old friends and met new ones. you're a wee activist already, little chicken. you make us so proud.

on that fateful protest day, we introduced you to solid foods, as you'd been staring jealously at us while we were eating for weeks. we started with rice cereal mixed in breastmilk (mmmm!) and some pears. i took a million photos of your priceless wtf expressions. we laughed until we couldn't breathe, because you're just so hilariously adorable. and, oh my little girl, you absolutely love food, even though the photos may not quite show that...

in other news, we found out, after taking you on a 3 mile walk around our neighborhood, that none of the playgrounds around here have swings. mama h and i had such hopes for introducing you to the wonders of swinging, but alas, it wasn't to be. in the end, you settled for going down the slide on mama h's lap, and staring dumbfounded at the monkey bars. don't worry. we will find swings for you. that is a promise.

also, this month, you experienced your first halloween, dressed as wonder woman, thanks to the fabulous costume that uncle g bought you from six flags. you really loved the bowl of candy, and now i know for sure that you are my daughter. a few days previous, you enjoyed your first big party at our house, as we celebrated my 30th birthday. you basked in the presence of our dear friends, and even spent a moment in front of a big fire in the backyard. and then you fell asleep.

it's time for me to close this letter, as you are now awake and it's playtime.

i love you more every day, jude. who knew that kind of love is possible?

love,
mama

at the park

first taste of pears

you love your moms

post food face

protesting