This kid. She’s ten months old and definitely does not stay put long enough for me to take more than one of these photos anymore. The latest…
Mondays are my favorite. I decided a while back that I wanted a “Cora day,” one day that was just for the two of us. I arbitrarily chose Mondays and now it’s my favorite day of the week. I get up early with both girls, get Ali ready for school, send her off with Michael, and get eight hours of Cora (including a couple of naps) before she and I head to preschool to pick up her sister. Sometimes Cora and I head off on adventures together or meet up with other moms and babies. Sometimes we just bang out a bunch of house chores. Either way, I now find Mondays to be the most therapeutic day of my week.
She’s taken army crawling to the next level. Cora can make an obstacle course out of just about anything, wiggling her way through the small space underneath her high chair, balancing precariously at the edge of Ali’s mini trampoline before expertly slithering down head first, and pulling herself up and over ottomans and other objects despite no logical need to do so.
She also does baby gymnastics. Okay, maybe less “gymnastics” and more “accidental splits.” While holding onto whatever is keeping her upright and balanced on her feet, Cora often slides slowly and gracefully into perfect middle splits. It’s unclear whether it’s purposeful or accidental, but she doesn’t seem to mind too much either way.
She says “mama” now. And I’m pretty certain it’s an actual word, since she typically says it when she wants me to hold her at the end of the day. She also says “dada” when she wants her dad’s attention and “ma” when she wants more food. Those three words cover pretty much all her bases for now.
Sometimes she actually wants me to hold her. Cora is a self-sufficient babe who’s generally not that keen on being confined. But… there is a tiny window, from 5:45-6:15pm or so, where Cora just wants to be in my arms and no where else. She says “mama” while waving her hands at me, nurses, and lets me hug her close and kiss her delicious cheeks for a glorious half hour or so before she goes back to her business. It’s the best.
Her bedtime routine is comically chaotic. There’s all this talk about the importance of establishing a perfect bedtime routine for your baby—the bath, the story, the song, the back rub, the last kiss. Cora’s is decidedly not that. After wrestling her into her jammies and sleep sack, I nurse Cora one last time before bed in pure chaos. Ali runs around the room, singing and dancing or else catapulting herself off the nursing chair and climbing back up to do it all again. When Cora is finished nursing, I hug her close, kissing her, and ask Ali if she’d like to kiss her sister goodnight. She always does. I squat down so Ali can give Cora a not-gentle kiss on the cheek or the back of the head or the eye or wherever a kiss happens to land that day, which Cora receives graciously with an admiring smile. I stand up, kiss Cora’s cheeks again, lay her down in her crib, hand her her bunny lovey thing she doesn’t really care about that much, and push her hair out of her face one last time. Then Ali usually slams the door shut behind us. And after a few moments of singing to herself, Cora falls soundly asleep and sleeps eleven hours ’til morning.
Going…. gone. She does not stay put. Ever. (Unless she’s sleeping or eating.)