to my almost one and a half year old
My Dear Little Bug,
As I write this, you are now 17 months, 21 days, 12 hours and 50 minutes old. I find myself more and more lately internally pausing to reflect on how much you have changed in such a short period of time and even getting a little angry with myself when I forget to make note of the new things that have come, but especially the old things that have already gone. It seems, that even in the last week you have exploded with all kinds of “newness”. Where a baby used to be, a toddler is emerging. Gone are the days of bustling you along with me, secured safely in the carrier. Instead, now you run, with your tiny, drunken gait, from room to room so fast that we have to scramble to keep up with you, frantically plugging outlets and padding corners that are no longer safe from your curiosity and clumsiness. You are officially your own little person, brave and inquisitive and on the move!
It seems that overnight, you have found your stride as well as a load of new words. We are everyday moving toward a place where we can better communicate. You have your way of letting us know what you want and what you don’t want and are constantly figuring out how to tell us what makes you the happiest. There are few times when you are frustrated or angry, but usually, you are only upset when our communication breaks down. When you want something and I don’t understand or when you don’t understand something that we want. How frustrating it must be to know what you want and not yet have the words to express it. I try to remind myself of that when you and I are having a tough time and I can’t figure out how to make it better. 
I love watching you in this season of your little life. I love watching you as you engage with the world around you. As you play with your blocks, methodically stacking them up and then, with all the fury of a 17 month old, knocking them down. I love watching your gleeful face as you see them tumble to the ground and slide into all corners of the room. I love watching the process on in your expression as you stare at your animal cards, carefully choosing which is which, then proudly voicing each animal sound as you point to the card (the monkey is your favorite, “oooh, ahhhh!") I revel in your curiosity for the world and for new sounds, smells and experiences. Often, as I am preparing dinner, you will toddle over to me, box of colorfully, shaped blocks in hand, you will gently set the box down on the floor and reach chubby, delicious little hands up toward the sky proclaiming, “Up!” I will lift you into my arms so you can get a better view of what is making that crackling noise or creating the aroma that is floating through the house. Once you are satisfied, you will plant a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on my chin and lean toward the ground as you say, “Down,” again grasping your box of blocks and continuing merrily on your way.
This week you started doing two things that I absolutely adore, and against all better judgement, refuse to correct. No matter what time of day it is, no matter if it is evening, or afternoon, or in fact, morning, you will greet anyone who comes into your view with, “Morning!” The sound of your tiny voice saying this fills me with complete and total bliss. You also love the word “uncle”, which typically seems to come out, “Unkuh”. And you will call pretty much anyone or anything, “Unkuh,” no matter if it is Daddy (Unkuh Daddy), or medicine (unkuh-cin), or Auntie Mary (Unkuh Mooey). Please please please, never stop doing this. I love it. Thank you.
One thing I have been pleasantly surprised about is how social you are. Whenever new folks have come over to visit, throughout your entire life you have shown very little apprehension (with the exception to a few select people in the very early days, sorry Uncle Jesse, Uncle Paul and Papa). These days, you are happy whenever we have company, happily bouncing from one pair of arms to another, wooing and melting hearts with your big eyes, your long lashes and your love for blowing kisses. You are also grasping onto names. I love the look of joy that spreads across the faces of our friends when you excitedly repeat back their names in your sweet, tiny little voice, “Lala!” (Layla), “Macth!” (Max), “ Unkuh Duttun!” (Justin).
Along with all of this new growth and change and adventure, there has also been a shift in you. We are now living in the "Year of the Daddy.” All at once you have gone from preferring “Mama” for snuggles, for books and for bedtime to having only an affinity for “Daddy”. Daddy is who you want when you are hungry or tired or hurt. I have to admit that there have been moments when this tiny, unknowing rejection has left my poor heart aching as if it had been shattered into a million tiny pieces and I have to remind myself or ask others to help me remember that this is only a phase. There will come a day again when you will call for me and reach for me when I come home. But, I do have to consciously work to push away that small voice in the back of my mind that whispers every day when I leave you that I am sacrificing a piece of your childhood which I will not get back and won’t get to experience in same way that Daddy will. I hope that someday you will know how painstaking it is for me to walk out the door every morning, especially on the days when it feels like I am slowly fading into the cast of secondary characters in your life, regardless of how beautiful it is to watch you and Daddy together and the loveliness that encircles your relationship. Please know this: I’m working so hard to find a solution and someday very very soon (I hope), we will have more time together. You are so important to me and I would do anything to spend more time with you. Until then, we have our Saturday zoo dates and our bedtime snuggles; some of my favorite times during the week, because, when I'm with you, my little bug, I know that I am home.
Love you, love you, love you,
Mama
