9 Months of Phoebe

First of all, I want you to know I wrote a long, awesome blog post on January 14th, with tons of pictures & information about what Phoebe is like these days. Then, when I went to publish it, my blogpress app freaked out and lost the entire post. I was not a happy camper. Here’s a few of my favorite pictures from that blog post, taken on Phoebe’s 9 month anniversary.


At 9 months, my little girl loves moving a around the house, opening things & removing contents. And she loves sharing things & moments.

Needless to say, I was put out after losing a whole blog post. Especially a long one. And I was not in the mood to rewrite it. So, now, I’m gonna write a different post.

By all accounts, Phoebe is an advanced little baby. That’s what people tell me anyway. She blabbers. She crawls expertly. She eats solid food. She had excellent coordination and dexterity with her little hands. Even her hair is growing fast! I always feel awkward when I’m talking about Phoebe and she is described as advanced, though, because the term is not simply descriptive. It’s comparative. And potentially competitive.

(I want to take a time out to say: if you have described Phoebe as “advanced” to me, don’t worry! I’ve taken it as the compliment it was intended to be! I’m not upset about this. In the least.)

The problem I have with the term “advanced” is that it carries with it the connotation that Phoebe is somehow better that other babies who are not developing at her pace. That, my friends, is nonsense. Damned nonsense. A baby’s worth is not related to how smart or well behaved or pretty she is. We should never treat babies this way. And we should certainly never be dissatisfied with our own children because they are not doing X, Y, or Z like someone else’s kid.

This, I think, is the difference between pride & joy. I enjoy Phoebe tremendously. When she conquers a new skill, I’m so excited for her. I love her pretty little smile and I love kissing her soft little cheeks. When she looks concerned for another baby and crawls over to kiss them, my heart swells as I bask in her sensitivity and gentle heart. And I love recounting the wonderful things about my baby to anyone who wants to listen. But I am careful to distinguish between sharing my joy and touting with pride.

I do not contemplate how Phoebe might compare to other kids, then feel superior if she measures up better than a friend’s child. How stupid! I don’t think Phoebe is a “badge of honor” that shows I’m a better mom or a more accomplished parent. Ridiculous. Phoebe is just Phoebe. I have a relationship with her, and I’m blessed to be able to parent her, but she is not a report card or trophy or anything of the sort.

She is my daughter. I love her. And I am well pleased with her.


That’s my little bundle of joy. ^_^

Dear Phoebe,

Here are ten things I love about you:

(1) You still nurse to sleep, sweetly cuddling with me, and often stroking my breast as you do so. It’s unbelievably sweet.

(2) You give the best raspberries. Ever. And always on my belly. (Although you’ve done a few lately right when I thought you were gonna nurse. It. Was. Hilarious.)

(3) When I’m hurt or upset, you are concerned & you wait till you have an opportunity to kiss me.

(4) You have dozens of amazing laughs.

(5) You are starting to put things back together, placing contents on baskets or stacking rings back on their peg. It’s so cool watching you learn & conquer these skills.

(6) You get sooooo excited when you get to eat Clementine oranges. It’s really cute.

(7) When I offer you clothes in the morning, you take your time considering your options, then you grab the outfit you want. It’s awesome to see the little wheels cranking in your head

(8) You will often leave the room I’m in to explore other areas of the house. And, when Papa’s home, you’ll go between our two rooms to spend time playing near us both.

(9) You get very excited when Papa comes home. You love spending time with him…and I love seeing the two of you together.

(10) You often love to just be near me. Given how quickly you’re growing up, the moments when you still act like the little baby that you are incredibly sweet.


By ekwetzel
2012-01-24

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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