Lulu: 18 Months

Lulu,

I feel a little bad that I haven't kept up with these letters, or this blog. But I have a good reason, it's because I've been too busy having fun with you. I think it's probably time to admit this blog is over, time to print out the pages and set them aside for when, maybe, you are one day pregnant and wondering what it was like for old mom.

Your 18-month-old self is so much FUN. You don't walk, you run. You don't giggle, you guffaw. You have so many hugs and kisses to give, it's overwhelming. My poor heart. I love you so.

At 1.5 years of age, you are still really into Elmo and Sesame Street in general. No other TV show really gets your attention. Your favorite books are Olivia and Madeline. You say Olivia "Oliliya" and Madeline "Mamamamine". You would happily listen to me read them several times a day, and I usually do.

Your favorite foods are unpredictable. You still adore cheese with every fiber of your tiny being. It was one of your first words, cheese. You love fruit and like to hold the whole banana and take huge bites. You like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into strips, which you eat daintily like they are small cobs of corn.

You are just cutting your 16th tooth, meaning you cut 12 teeth in the 6 months since your first birthday. This has been rough but you've been a good sport. Your teeth are tiny and straight and perfect. You love having them and being able to eat crunchy things like tortilla chips.

You love to close doors and then knock on them, saying "knock knock knock!" When you say mama it's with a sweet smile and always "ma ma ma". Your current favorite activity is to collect rocks and then drop them in the lake, one by one. When I throw a big rock out in to the water, you clap for me every time.

My favorite word to hear you say is "more." You always say it like it's a question and I'm determined to record it. You said it the most when we're at the park and you want to go down the slide again. More? More? More? Then you figured out how to climb up there on your own. One more time you don't need me to do something for you. I need to get used to that.

You're gorgeous. I know everyone thinks their child is secretly the prettiest, but come on. I love you so much and I wonder if this heart swelling, catching of breath feeling that I've had in my chest since the second you were born will ever go away. I hope not.

love,

Mamama