Eleven Months

11 Months

Gordita,

You are now eleven months old.  One month left before you have been with us for one year. 

On one hand, it seems too soon.  How can you possibly be eleven months old, standing up, beginning to talk, crawling, communicating, a whole human being with a spit-fire personality.  Weren’t you just born?  Shouldn’t I still be cuddling a newborn?  It doesn’t seem possible that you have been here that long, that we have held you and cuddled you a loved you for eleven months?  On the other hand, life seems incomplete without you.  I can’t believe that we lived for so long without knowing you.  Your soul fits so perfectly into our family; it feels as if you have always been here.  Was it really less than one year ago when I first saw your face?   Have you only been making us laugh for eleven months?  Time has a funny way of passing us by, each moment frozen into eternity, yet passing by in an instant.  Moment passes after moment, and months, then years, fly past.  What I know is that I have an incredible child in my arms.  You no longer fit neatly in my lap when we nurse, but stretch out your long legs and chubby arms, reaching, pinching, kicking, grabbing and moving.  You like to lift up my shirt and stick your finger into my belly button, tickling me.  You repeat words and sounds that you hear.  Abuelita swears that you say Gato, Beba, Muchacha, and Gracias.  I’m not so sure, but you do imitate our inflections and sounds.  You want so desperately to be big.  You imitate every little thing that Sofia does, or that Mama or Papa does.  You want to play with the same toys that Sofia has.  You grab brooms, shoes, clothes, telephones, computers, spoons, forks, knives when you can get at them, and anything else you can find and try to use it the way the big people do.  You try to put on your shoes and make Sofia’s My Little Ponies trot across the floor.  You will stand up onto anything and everything, wanting so much to let go and walk.  When you see other babies walking (Lucia and Valeska) you watch them intently, willing them to give you the secret.  You chase after the big kids with your speed crawl, never fearing getting your hands stepped on by bigger feet.  You blow kisses and raspberries, love ‘pat a cake’ and ‘pon nina pon’.  You would eat bananas all day long if we let you.  You have always liked bananas, but the cambures in Venezuela  are so delicious, I’m not sure you are going to like that ones we can get in Wisconsin.  You love to eat, but love to do it yourself.  It is hard here, because we don’t have a booster seat to let you eat by yourself.  You are nursing more than ever, and I love it because it gives Mama and baby a chance to reconnect in something familiar and loving in a time and place of change and differences.  You love meeting all the new tios and tias and especially primos, and give everyone smiles and love. 

You are wonderful Amalia.  Every single inch of you.  Happy eleven months, peanut butter.

Love,

Mama