A Painted House

Dear Edison: Month Ten

Posted on: September 22, 2011

Dear Edison,

Welcome to your first double-digit month!   Your tenth month will forever be remembered as the month you gained real mobility.  You’ve been leaning forward, scooting, and rocking back onto your rear for weeks now but just a few days ago you figured out how to put one knee in front of the other and maneuver yourself across the play room.  Your Dad and I happened to be right there to see your first successful attempt at crawling and as our eyes met in that precious moment, over your adorable forward-moving body I astutely pointed out, “Crap, we’re totally in for it now.”  And then your Dad immediately went upstairs and put up the baby gate.  You know, just in case you decided to learn to climb two flights of stairs in the next ten minutes.

Honestly, it’s a good thing he did because in a matter of days you were cruising around our house as if you were being paid by the lap.  As you’re my first baby to crawl, Edison, I’m wholly unprepared to protect both you and the bottom twenty-four inches of our home.  You are FAST, child.  And it seems your mobility growth curve is significantly steeper than mine in Crawling Baby Management.  Thus, these past two weeks have been an epic Mommy Fail.  You’ve overturned James’ training potty into your lap, eaten fake moss from the bottom of the potted plant, and doubled my daily calorie burn as I alternate between scrubbing you down and fishing inedible items out of your gummy mouth.  At least your new skill has resulted in cleaner floors as I’m now daily sweeping up a potential baby smorgasbord of leaves, grass, discarded food, and dust bunnies.  So um, thanks for that, I guess?

The tremendous upside of your new skill is that you’ve suddenly become both adept and content at playing alone.  Now that you can move from toy to toy as things catch your attention you’re an immensely happy child.  Edison, you have no idea how thankful I am for your easygoing nature.  Especially when I can do the dishes, fold the laundry, and sweep the floor (again) while you amuse yourself by following your circuit.  I love to watch you start in the family room and make pit stops at the Geotrax train tracks, baskets of decorative fall leaves in the kitchen, mixer on the pantry  floor, refrigerator magnets, play kitchen in the dining room, cabinet doors in the reading room, and shoes by the front door.  Also, when we moved into this house eighteen months ago I spent a decent chunk of time decorating and organizing an adorable play room, only to have your brother essentially ignore it.  So it warms my heart to see your wiggly little tush making its way down the hall and around the corner into the play room, all of your own volition.  I don’t even mind the total demolition that results because at least it was whining-free demolition.

I guess it’s probably backwards to mention this last, as it was a precursor to the crawling, but you’ve learned to push yourself into a sitting position.  It’s adorable watching you muscle your upper body up from the floor and with intense concentration, balance it over your seated tush.  Don’t worry, Edison, we’ll touch up your photos so the rug burn your forehead from all the failed attempts never shows.  Your favorite place to practice this new self-righting skill is your bed.  Awe-some.  While once naps were a guaranteed event, as you were pretty much stuck in that sleep-inducing prone position, now you have options.  You could sleep OR you could push yourself upright over and over and over again every time I lay you down, even when you’re so tired that you’re woozy.  At least eventually the wobbliness wins out and you end up conked out on your back anyway.  But you showed me, you did it YOUR way.

Edison, I love to see you grow and learn new skills. Especially when they give me those moments when you round the corner, grin, and make a beeline straight for me as fast as those little knees and hands can carry you.  Promise me you’ll keep coming to me with that level of enthusiasm for the rest of you life, little boy.  I’ll always, always hold still so you can catch me.

Love, Mama

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