It's only been like half a year since I wrote anything, and I was feeling pretty done with the whole bloggy thing before I even really got started. But tonight I went to catch up on some entries in Little Pecky's baby journal and discovered that I have NO IDEA where her precious baby calendar went. I thought I was being really clever by just writing her milestones on our wall calendar, except when 2011 rolled around, I brainlessly swapped the calendar out for some dumbfuck Humane Society calendar with puppies on it. It's not the puppies' fault that I'm such a retard, but I do hate them right now. So here it is, almost 11 pm and I'm quietly shitting my pants and tearing the house apart while LP and her papa snooze peacefully upstairs.
I've decided that perhaps it's best if I stop wracking my brain and just let the location of the damn calendar percolate up in my sleep. Please, please don't let the answer be "in the recycling you took out to the curb two weeks ago." I'm terrified that in my zeal to keep the house clean, I tossed it without a second thought. Except... I know I set it aside because I thought LP would like December's picture framed. (SEE? I'M SO DUMB I WAS ALREADY THINKING ABOUT REPURPOSING THE CALENDAR. MY BABY'S FIRST FUCKING YEAR CALENDAR! AAAUGH!)
Ok. Deep breath. It has to be around. Right?
Anyways, here we are in the last week of Little Pecky's 11th month. And my, how month 11 has rocked. So many changes, big and small. She started saying a few words like "ball" and hooting like an owl. So hilarious. She just exploded with ability at the beginning of January. And my heart is just exploding right back with love and pride.
We had a great Christmas in the Northland. Pecky got to play in her first real snow, while sporting a super-stylish Wintergreen snowsuit. Baby gots fancy tastes. We skied, hiked, ate and ate and ate. It was wonderful. Pecky reveled in the doting attention of 7 adults, especially her grandmother, Sisu, who kept her extremely well fed at all times. Her Grandpop is the only family member who merited a name, "Bop Bop" and the rest of us are jealously anonymous.
On the flight back home, Pecky made the "more" sign and I nearly passed out from excitement. In the next few days, she added about 10 more signs and a few more words. The best was the day we went to a farm to get some milk. She spotted a few chickens and out of the blue, POW! Chicken sign. One I hadn't done in weeks.
What else... we kicked the bottle last week. I got up and didn't feel like washing another damn bottle, so I didn't. And that was that. Unfortunately, all the rest of our donor milk appears to be freezer burned, and LP won't drink it. So we're reluctantly doing the last bit of formula and then it's on to goaty milk, I guess.
My sister sent us a Plan Toys woodpecker walker wagon that is possibly the greatest gift ever. Around and around we go, whappity-whap, circuiting the house. Such fun. And the big news is that LP took a few steps two nights ago. I was busy looking for something and wondered how she'd gotten from point A to point B without me noticing her crawling. Then a few minutes later, I saw her wobble across the kitchen floor. So exciting! I'm kind of looking forward to the end of the pants-pulling-down era, in which she's constantly hanging on my legs. But I'm sure I'll miss it terribly when she's at an age where she won't acknowledge my existence.
And she's awake! Off to nurse into the night.
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