Everly Mae,


You're 10 months old today. Grandma and Grandpa Clark were here this morning and kept saying, "Two more months until she's one!" and I kept my fingers in my ears and said, "I can't hear you!" I guess it's because this is what I remember from 10 months ago:



You are in the habit of biting these days. I have started saying a firm, "No," and trying to redirect your attention, but sometimes I laugh. I know I'm doing the wrong thing when I react that way, but it's hard because I know you're frustrated and trying to communicate, and you unfortunately don't understand that biting isn't an acceptable way of doing that. You also stand or sit in your crib now, which makes nap time kind of painful sometimes and means that I often have to go back and lay you down again, which leaves you pleased I can tell. You are at your cutest when you're being sneaky.


You are an explorer. You study things, turning them around and admiring their colors and structure. You crawl to different corners of the house and stay interested in your surroundings for much of the day. You'll empty board game boxes, lick shoelaces, try to eat a stray leaf, practice climbing skills, and loudly exclaim when you're bored or confused. "Eh! Eh! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Hilariously enough, this is also what you do when Billy leaves the room and you want him to come back downstairs. "Eh! Ahhhhh??? Ah!? Eh!" It's adorable. Almost as adorable as when you take off in a sprint-crawl toward him and then sit at his feet and hold out your arms. You love him so much. It makes me love him even more, somehow.


It's me you really want when you're hurt, scared, hungry, or tired. You want me to stand up and sway with you or rub your back in circles. Sometimes you like me to sing for you, and when you do, I know you're not feeling yourself. When you're feeling yourself and I sing for you, you bite me or whine until I stop. You know what you want and you're not afraid of asking for it. I admire that about you and hope you don't lose that innocence. That's called being assertive, and often times some of us lose that skill because we're afraid of the backlash. Don't lose that skill, Everly. It will take you far in life. You'll be seen as an honest person and you'll always feel like you're putting your real self out there. But be gentle with it. Being too blunt with honesty can be painful and damaging.

My 10 month old sweet potato pie. You make me laugh with your crinkling of magazine papers, your excited screams when you see a toy you like most, and the way you selectively choose when you talk and when you listen. You are very purposeful in your behavior. Aunt Kin-Kin and I call you a "mature" baby, which sounds hilarious but the people that have been around you would agree. You have a certain calm about you, a certain understanding of things... it's remarkable. It is one of the specific traits that attracted me to your father. His ability to silently comprehend what was happening. The trait that attracted him to me was my ability to put his comprehension into words for him when he needed me to. We compliment each other, and I think you're going to have both of our traits and be a perfect representation of our personalities.


You eat real food and drink most of your formula from sippys now. I've thought a lot about how to explain this to you... the feeling you have when you see your tiny, helpless baby and they're effortlessly feeding themselves and drinking their formula and they don't need you... but there isn't a good explanation. It's a mixture of being proud, sad, scared, happy, excited, and obsolete. I used to tease parents that had difficulty letting their children grow up, but I'm more empathetic toward them now (though honey, I'm not gonna hold you back, I promise, even if it kills me)... ok, ok, truth be told I'm kind of holding you back already because I still give you a bottle here & there even though you're over them.


Ahem. Nobody's perfect!


I love you deeply. I love that you crawl to me and say, "Mamamamamama..." and want to sit with me and do what I'm doing. I love that you want to eat what I eat, drink what I drink, sing what I'm singing. I love that you dance, shake your head "No," and scream happily when you see Millie. I love the life you've given me.



When your dad and I fell in love, I would say, "I love you! I love you! I love you!" three times in a row. I told him that if someone says something 3 times, you know they *really* mean it. Through the years I would save the triple expressions for random moments, when we needed a spark of romance. And now, I can pass the sentiment on to you, and teach you that if you really want someone to know how you feel, tell them three times.

...I love you, I love you, I love you.