Also, I can’t emphasize enough that the BeeBee definitely did not pick up the stuff she mimics in the video below from me because I know for sure she has never seen me clean. No one has for almost two years. Next time she gets the urge to spruce up, I’m directing her to the bathroom. Other than the cleaning, this video also demonstrates two popular activities: choosing music on the kitty keyboard and lounging on the giant stuffed dog that lives both in my living room and in my mother’s living room (we have a third hiding in the attic should anything happen to the other two). Both of these past-times are both funny and amazing in their demonstration of her already awesome weird little personality.

Lastly, in addition to cleaning, she’s also learning to feed herself. Next week, college. Or driving.

One more thing I don’t have video of: her first steps. She took them yesterday. Three in a row. Twice in a row. Oh mah gawd!

Baby talk:

Awesome baby:

And she looked like this:

Back at Nan’s, she managed to open some lightly wrapped presents pretty much on her own:

And she politely handed over the wrapping paper, fighting her instinct to immediately stuff it into her craw:

There was a cake, at first greatly anticipated:

But ultimately, just not what she expected (this one is my fault as I insisted on a hippie cake, aka not a sugar bomb, though I like to lie to myself and say she would’ve rejected a sugar bomb as well). Even though we didn’t get adorable smash-cake photos, this one is probably better in the long-run:

It’s been the longest, fastest year of my life. Crazy highs and lows. Harder than I ever anticipated, more gratifying than I could have ever hoped. I’m still so very tired…it’s taboo to even mention “at her age”, but she continues to wake every couple of hours at night…but I’m also still so very lucky. This kidlet is pure magic and I don’t deserve her but I’ll keep trying to.

Thanks for being funny. Thanks for mastering the boob and helping get me to the crucial 1 year mark without a drop of formula (probably the only goal of parenting I’ve met so far and all the credit is yours). Thanks for laughing way more than you cry. Thanks for really liking me despite my obvious and often severe limitations. Thanks for waving at the cat when we say good morning and good night to her. Thanks for being willing to dance to any tune or at any mention of the word “dance”. Thanks for being healthy and strong. Thanks most of all for choosing us out of everyone in the universe who wants someone just like you.

We’re just a few weeks away from Baby Buddha’s first birthday. Do you feel dizzy? Is the room spinning? I need to sit down.

In the meantime, I’m reviewing our catalog of baby pictures and it turns out it doesn’t even take a second child for me to get really lazy and remiss with documentation, I’ve already started falling down on the job with baby the first. We took something like one bajillion pictures of Baby Buddha in the first three weeks of her life. In the last three months, I’ve taken 37 or something.

So for this entry and its huge span of time, I have only the BeeBee adventuring in Germland, aka the play area of our local mall. I know, I know, I suck. But it’s a thousand degrees outside and a few weeks ago I managed to purchase and leave the store with a work shirt with the security tag, or should I say fake plastic thing that does nothing, still on it. I had to go back to hell to get the stupid plastic thing that does nothing off, and right outside the store is Germland and all its little beasty citizens, aka other children, aka irresistible babycrack. BeeBee loves Germland and its beasties and they love her.

I didn’t take any pictures of the other citizens interacting with her, though I should have. I just don’t know the protocol on photographing other children. But if I had taken pictures of her with other kids, it would’ve looked a lot like several 2-3 year olds petting and lightly prodding the BeeBee as if she were a beautiful alien creature or the first washed-up on the shore jelly fish they’d ever encountered.

One little girl in particular took a shine to her, sitting across from the BeeBee and tickling her under the chin, stroking her hair, trying to hold her hand. The Beebee was at first shocked, then completely mesmerized by the attention. The little girl was Asian and her dad the entire time was shooting off rapid fire instructions to her in their native tongue. I have no idea what he was saying but I’m guessing it was a little like the obsessive chant we recite to BeeBee when she’s petting my parents’ dog: nice touches, gentle, no hitting, nice touches, gentle, no hitting. Despite nervous Dad or maybe because he was so convincing, the little girl was really very sweet, enough that I didn’t immediately slap her off my child who up til now has pretty much never been touched by a stranger. When we all end up with the sniffles in a week, remind me so I can go back to being an overprotective meanie without feeling guilty.

Conquering Germ Island in the inlet of Germland.

She’s playing invisible slide trombone here trying to lure other children closer. On her tippy-toes, so no wonder they flocked over five seconds later. Also pictured: perfect baby legs and fluffy cloth diped booty. They have mind control powers so don’t look at this picture too long. I warned you.

This is what my mom would call “holding your mouth just right”. It makes all things possible, like the .3-second free-stand she did after pulling up on me.

We went to a wedding. A grown-up wedding. A baby-free wedding. OH my! The bride wore red. I wish I had a picture of her dress. I’m not even a dress girl but this dress…wow.

Speaking of red, The Man’s tomatoes have come in with a vengeance. So our meals have a running theme.

Between weddings and wrestling maters, we roadtripped. Baby Buddha was really great. She looked like this most of the ride:

At the hotel, she met the love of her life…the floor level air conditioner. She spent most of her indoor time in front of it, wispy hair blowing 80s video style, beating her little arms on the top and squealing like a demented piglet.

On the trip, there was a never-ending farmers market with at least 15 places waving freshly sliced peaches in the air, hoping to be the one to lure a shopper in from their stroll down the middle aisle. And beyond peaches, oh the blueberries, the plums, the squash, the tomatoes, the melons. All the beautiful things from the ground and the summer.

On the trip, there was bbq and dumplings and pad thai and sea bass.

There was a baby in her first swimsuit, too ridiculous and over-the-top to be worn by anyone except a person not quite one year old or perhaps a little over 65…so perfect.

And we built upon her love of water by taking her beyond the kitchen sink and introducing her to the roadtrip pool. Splashing, howling, hooting, more splashing, laughter, a very wet hat, splashing.

And then it seemed nearly as soon as we got there, it was time to go. We said good-bye to the new places with its new things.

The ride home as quiet as the ride there.

In other news, is there anything more fantastic than summer salads? The Man’s tomatoes and cucumbers are starting to come in and they are beautiful, fresh and nearly as sweet as candy. Except for the soul-crushing heat and humidity, summertime in the South is pretty fantastic.