My dearest Wesley Fox:

Boy, your mama is really pushing it this time. This was literally the last day I could get away with posting this letter, seeing as how as of tomorrow you’ll be 9 months old. But I couldn’t let time get away from me without celebrating your 8th monthness.

The time of day wasn’t right, the camera settings weren’t right, but it’s somehow appropriate that these photos of you at this time were taken in your bright little car. You’re really going places now little sunshine, though truth be told you’d rather be exploring on your own than be strapped into a vehicle. You took off this last month, first army crawling then doing the real thing. And more than that, you want to stand on your own two feet, pulling up on anything — or anyone. In the last few days, the little space of living room we’d sectioned off for you is simply no longer enough. You want to go everywhere after Niles, into the bathroom, into the perilous office full of nasty cords, computers and other gadgets. We’ve got some serious baby-proofing to do.

This month, your feistiness has really shone through.  Perhaps it’s a bit of personality; perhaps it’s those nasty top three teeth gnawing their way out of your gums. You’re making diaper changes impossible and preferences for food, people, toys quite clear. You’d eat blueberries morning, day and night if we would let you. You continue to wake up at least once at night, demanding milk perhaps, a paci, or sometimes just a cuddle. And you’re a chatty one, you are. One morning this past month, I swore I heard you ask for “agua” (water) — then your father heard the same at lunch. But you haven’t said it since. Does it count as your first word? Today I was almost certain I heard you repeat “go, go, go” after your Nana said it. I think I may just want to hear you speak so bad I am imagining these amazing vocal abilities. Even so, your gibberish alone, your squeals are delightful.

You went to Disney (again), got your first haircut (guerrilla-style, with you sitting on my lap, Craig’s barber at your head for a second in between cutting your dad’s hair, me in a little bit of shock not sure that it was happening), took big boy baths without the need for any infant bathtubs, met Santa twice without shedding any tears, celebrated your first Christmas for three days in a row surrounded by all your amazing friends and family whose incredible love for you seems to rival my own. The Florida winter and the holidays with you are sweeter than they’ve ever been.

It was a stressful and hard month on your daddy and me little love, but our little family complete now with you in it is– now and always, holidays and everydays, in every season and in every month — our number one priority. Our love cup runneth over.

All my love, forever and ever,

your Mama

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Santa and Wes wish everyone very happy holidays!

It seems the more I crave a rhythm to our days, the more it eludes me.

There is no time to blog. There is barely time to make a decent meal. There are presents to be wrapped still — presents still to buy. Loads of laundry await me. Wes is closer to 9 months than to 8, and I’ve yet to photograph him at this time. The end of the academic semester is a cruel, cruel time. Too many papers to grade and already much to prepare for the semester ahead. Craig is weeks away from beginning his teaching internship. I will be teaching most of my classes on campus next spring, unlike in past semesters where I had the luxury of teaching a heavy load of classes from home. All while take turns keeping Wes at home with us. It is, perhaps, too much. We are barely hanging on.

This morning as I took Niles and Wes out for our morning walk, I ran into a mama clutching her 5 day old baby while chasing after her leash-less pug Lucy. I dutifully collected Lucy’s poo off the grass; it was the least I could do. The mama looked at me in sheer terror and asked: “when does it get easier?” I wanted to be supportive, but couldn’t think of how to honestly answer. It is hard with a 5 day old baby, and it is hard with an almost 9 month old teething baby who is in pain and refusing to nap.

It’s how you end up with a much too awake baby after a failed barely 30 minute nap, still wearing pajamas, raucously playing the tambourine entirely too early in the morning.

I hope things are calmer on your end.

Much love,

Lou

You’d think it wouldn’t take a whole week to recap Wesley’s first Thanksgiving, but this nest is a sick nest. First Craig was hit overnight with the flu and then a few days later I caught a nasty cold. Wes is miraculously NOT sick with either one of our bugs, but he IS crankily cutting two top teeth (the first one broke through the gum yesterday, and I can see the second just under the gum). It also doesn’t help that it’s near the end of the semester for both Craig and me. So to say that things have been near breaking point, stressful, hard — all descriptors would be understatements.

But alas, Thanksgiving was, in short, lovely. Continuing along with our baby-led weaning efforts, we just offered Wes a little of most everything served. Which is to say he had some of the infamous green jello always present at Craig’s mom’s festivities, bread, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, a little turkey (for which he did not show much love, my little vegetarian in the making), olives from the salad, etc. I think Wes’s great-grandmother Leah pretty much sat in utter shock throughout the entire meal slightly horrified at the things our little 8 month old put in his mouth, but what can I tell you? Our child is so over purees at this point. We’re simply offering him all his vegetables steamed or as part of other foods (spinach in scrambled eggs, pea pancakes, etc). These days, he’s crazy about blueberries especially.

Of course, naughty Mimi couldn’t resist putting a slice of pumpkin pie in front of Wes to see what he’d make of it. I can tell you that he liked it.

very.

much.

In other news, I asked Wes for a kiss this morning and he graced me with one! He doesn’t do any smacking, but he’ll put his mouth up to your cheek. Also, he won’t do it every time you ask, but there you have it. He actually knew what I meant when I spoke to him. Amazing.

Every day of late Wes gifts us with a new surprise. Last week it was sitting up and creeping.  Yesterday he offered me his paci twice and gave Niles two kisses. Today he began the morning by clapping, just like that, out of nowhere. This is, truly, the sweetest time: and we are grateful.

A most happy Thanksgiving holiday to all of you.

I took these photographs the same day as Wesley’s 7 month photo shoot, and they are probably the closest thing to fall pictures I’m going to get lacking any beautiful bed of orange red leaves in this part of the country.

In hindsight, I should have had Craig accompany me to the park down the street to run defense for me, as it was practically impossible to take a single shot without Wes working furiously on trying to stick as many wood chips, mulch and twigs as humanly possible into his mouth. Not that I mind his experimenting with the elements per se. I think he should know what wood feels like and even tastes like, but I’m not so much equipped to deal with wood chocking incidents. There is already enough to worry about in the gagging department when it comes to actual food.

I think he figured out eventually that wood isn’t really so delicious after all, not that this discovery was enough for him to put an end to the tasting:

And there it is. He is unstoppable, as I am sure all babies his age are, little babes determined to discover what their worlds hold for them and of what their little bodies are capable.

So I shouldn’t have been so surprised to wake up Wednesday morning at 1 am to a wailing baby sitting upright in his own crib. He was sitting, and it was shocking, and really I don’t think either one of us had a clue how it had happened and not even a warm bottle of milk nor kisses nor snuggles were enough to calm my child down that night, at least not until 5 am and a mama sleeping on the floor beside him.

Last week the precrawling rocking started, and now he’s spent the last two days showing us exactly how it is he manages to roll up to a sitting position on his own, which is truly a beautiful discovery. But am I ever thankful for that modern piece of machinery known as the infant swing, the only spot where since Wes has allowed any sleep, rocked rhythmically side to side in its cozy cradle.  There was a time when he we could place him on our chests and he would close his eyes and happily drift off to sleep. But he’s a big boy now, you see? Just trying to make sense of it all.

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My dearest Wesley:

It is hard to believe that your 7th month has nearly passed now, and you are living the second half of your first year, closer to 1 than to the little baby we brought home last March. At times it is difficult for us to remember how tiny you were then by comparison, and it is only when we look at an old photograph that we can recall how small your face was, so small your binky took up half of it, how static you’d lie in your crib, your jerky arms contained in blankets. Now you are a force to be reckoned with, waking up far from where we placed you the night before, inching your way into one tiny corner or another for comfort.

You are an expert roller, though I would not be a bit surprised if I woke up tomorrow, placed you on the floor, and found you crawling your way clear across the room. Already the other night I spied you in the crib rocking back and forth on all fours, practicing your future steps, and I worry there will be no way to contain you then, you who gets into anything and everything, always ending up in the one spot in a room I’d prefer you avoid.

You are certainly a willful boy, never hesitating to express your boredom, anger or frustration with your forceful grunts, then just as easily laughing hysterically at any silly thing I say. You love food, but you will not let us get a spoon anywhere near your mouth unless you yourself are holding it, and your poor mama is going crazy trying out new foods with you, terrified at every little gagging sound you make as  you experiment with feeding yourself waffles, breads, carrots, celery, and more. Oh how much easier things were 3 months ago when we first gave you a taste of oatmeal. And yet I know this independent streak of yours will serve you well in life, my fierce daring son, terrified of nothing and willing to give anything a go.

What a marvel it is to watch you love standing and throwing your head back, play with big toys now and not just rattles. You turn the pages of your books in between bites at them. You giggle when we fall on cue during “Ring Around the Rosie” and you smile at the finger songs your mama plays. You love to watch doggies run and hands clapping. In short, you make happy.

Yes, it’s been a lovely month. Fall came to South Florida. You got to wear long sleeves, a hat, feel the wind on your face. You were the perfect frog on Halloween. Next you’ll celebrate your first Thanksgiving, and Christmas too is just around the corner. Already your mama is thinking of what will be the perfect gift — your first truck perhaps? Always I have one eye on your future and the other longingly looking back at the past. It’s all going by too fast.

All my love, forever and ever and ever,

Mama

I think we’re quite lucky that we have a good eater. Wes took to those first bowls of oatmeal and purees like a pro. He hasn’t shown great love for bananas, but he’s still eaten them, both out of a jar and mashed (and just recently sliced across). The only thing he has ever refused me is avocado. Go figure. But I started to notice his predilection for chomping on Mum-Mums on his own and raking puffs off his high chair tray while practicing his pincer grasp — along with an altogether interest in feeding himself.

I wish I had investigated baby-led weaning months ago before we ever got started on solids. Have you seen how these babies eat? They’re practically chomping at whole fruit from the start. But I only just now came across the idea, and the book is on a 1 to 2 month backorder. I guess now we’re just at a point of progressively moving toward more finger foods. Mum-Mums and puffs make for good practice, I suppose, but really they’re just sugar. So I find myself getting much more adventurous with what I’ll give Wes.

Out for breakfast the other day, we just got Wesley his own bagel and let him chomp away at it. Of course, he barely made a dent in it, but he and the bagel were practically in love. On our way out, we had to run Wes to the car because it had begun to rain and though he tried to clutch it tight, one bagel half inevitably landed on the floor in the mad rush. And our boy sobbed so passionately, it may have been the most pitiful — and adorable — thing I’d ever seen. (As you can imagine, his daddy ran back in and got him another, which he enjoyed in the dry comfort of his home):

Since then we’ve also tried steamed carrot sticks, raw celery ones, a bit of cheese, another go at chunks of avocado (which, even coated, proved difficult to grab), and that banana sliced cross way — the one piece of food that scared the crap out of me, seeing as how Wesley proceeded to gag on it. And that’s the scary part of this whole finger food thing. I mean, I know gagging is our way of NOT choking, but I’m not exactly that clear headed when my son sits in front of me in apparent distress.

I want Wes to love food. Good food. I want him to want to devour his veggies, the way I used to eat whole tomatoes like apples over a kitchen sink. But it’s hard to give up purees altogether since I can count on him to eat them so diligently. So I’m not sure how to proceed from here. Do I dare stop spoon-feeding him so soon?

Thank you all for your comments on my Halloween post. I’m not sure how many people ever go back into the comments section, so I thought I would respond to your kind words here. I can’t thank you enough for your compliments on my photography. I can’t believe it myself that I’m the one who snapped those pictures. But to be 100% truthful, they still required a lot of post-processing. I can’t wait for the day when I finally figure out the proper exposure at the time I snap the pictures rather than afterward, but I’m so incredibly slow at getting the settings right — quite the obstacle when working with an active baby, as you can imagine — and I still have a heck of a time wrapping my head around shutter speed. Numbers were never my friend. But I’ve loved photography for as long as I can remember, and in hindsight perhaps I should have studied that art instead of burying my nose in books of poetry.

It didn’t hurt that Wes was kind enough to humor his mama in the endeavor, only pulling at his froggy eyes and crown a time or two. And I couldn’t have done it without Craig, who was the consummate wrangler and took to the task with the aid of one furry blue turtle and a silly pink flamingo.

That’s Wes right there looking up at his daddy standing above me!

And I’m sorry, but how cute was that costume? A bit on the big side, but I think perfect nonetheless. And my favorite part was that it came with its own lily pad! And the lily pad squeaks! I only regret not having seen this other costume for sale, too. What a pair Wes and Niles would have made!

I can’t wait to try this all over again, maybe for some winter holiday photos? I’m happy with the roll of white paper purchased at a local educational supplies store (for decorating bulletin boards) though I may have to come up with another creative way of draping it seeing as how I don’t have a proper stand (nor the room for it). For these photos, I placed the roll inside Wesley’s crib and pulled the paper out and over, but the problem with that is that I’m then left with very little room where I can shoot: that’s quite the small space between the crib and the dresser that sits immediately across from it. But that room has the best light in the house…perhaps if I learn how to properly use my new Speedlite though, other spots in the house will open up!

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A costume fit for our prince…and his long froggy legs:

A most Happy Halloween to all!