she wore a raspberry beret, duh.
Lillienne’s first birthday party was wonderful. At one point there was 34 people in our dining room and living room, and although I seriously considered jumping off the balcony just to get some fresh air, everything went smoothly: there were no tears or open wounds, and Lillienne charmed everyone by walking around, babbling her excitement. She was so good, and even though she missed her afternoon nap, she let her cousin carry her around like a farm cat, was patient as she was passed around from relative to friend and back again, and grinned like a fool for most of the photos.
I have a hard time believing that a year has gone by, and that the little girl wobbling around in her little party dress was the same baby who we brought home from the hospital, the tiny baby who just lay on her back and squirmed for the first 3 months of her life. It’s amazing how fast she grew up, from rolling over to army crawling to full on baby crawling to walking to nearly running. From formula to rice cereal mush to berries and cheese and crackers. From a teeny tiny cradle to a crib. From a little blue plastic tub to the big bath tub with bubbles and bath toys and Tupperware in the tub. From swaddling blankets and tiny onesies to leggings and shoes and frilly shirts. From baby hats to hair clips and bows. From rattles to cabbage patch dolls. From dewy dewy dewy to hi mom, hi dad. From lying on her back swatting at toys to turning pages in books and chewing on the couch. From baby snowsuits to toques and mittens, pink snow boots and sled rides. From rolling over to dancing when music or figure skating is on TV. From newborn to baby to little girl. From Dustin and I.
So before Lillienne was born, I bought a pack of ten finger puppets from Ikea. I didn’t know that I was investing in 10 bite size “security blankets”.
There’s a giraffe (Dustin says hyena but he is clearly delusional), a monkey, a bear, a frog, a toucan, a duck, a panda, and I’m pretty sure the rest are scattered about at Granny’s place and Auntie’s house.
The past few weeks, Lillienne MUST have one these clenched into her tiny left fist, carrying it wherever she goes. She carries one everywhere, and hasn’t lost one yet. She has one in her first when she goes to bed, and it is still in her fist when she wakes up. She has one mashed up in her fist while she eats her cheese, crackers, fruit, etc, and a couple of the puppets now smell like old cheddar and sausage.
She takes them in the bath with her. Dustin says this is FINE! (He takes it away when she starts sucking the bathwater out of them…) but I usually draw the line at the tub. Although I guess they do need to be washed, too.
In the last 500 or so photos of her, there is ALWAYS colorful small object in her hands.
Last week we went to the store and when we came home we realized she must have dropped the little bear puppet somewhere. My heart felt crushed. One of Lillienne’s tiny puppets was lost and alone, no longer crushed in her chubby left fist, probably abandoned in a murky dirty snowbank or in an aisle at Sobey’s.
And then last night we found it. Beside her car seat in the truck. And we were BOTH thrilled, Lillienne and I. Lillienne, because the puppet belonged in her hand, all mashed up. And me, because a little part of her babyness was salvaged.
I took one and put it in her memory baby box. Must. Savour. Babyness.
So, Regina was a blast. We smoked some meth, got arrested, and slept with a bunch of random dudes (AKA we went out for a nice lunch, to the science museum, and to a comedy show). I did miss my baby, though. I recall showing videos of her from my cell phone to my friends in the bar at the comedy show, and I’m sure they were all but trying to poke their eyeballs with swizzle sticks.
When I got home, I nearly fell over my Sobey’s bags (it’s the latest in luggage) because Lillienne had grown a foot, her hair was curlier and longer, and she was taking even more steps. Over the weekend, she had gone from a timid two stepper to running the 5k marathon. She is now doing the “I-am-walking-no-wait-I’m-running-and-my-head-is-pulling-me-forward-and-SPLAT”. And she doesn’t even get discouraged when she falls. She just laughs and points at her milk or something equally fascinating.
Yesterday she was in her high chair in the kitchen, while I was doing dishes. We have some photos hanging in our dining room, and Lillienne pointed to one of Dustin holding Lillienne, and said “Dad!”
I Said “Dad? Dad! You said Dad?! Is this Dad?” I ran over to the picture dripping soapy bubbles as I went to see if I could get her to point and say it again. I pointed at the picture and said”Daddy?!”
Then she just shook her head “no”, back and forth for about thirty seconds. Sigh. Could she know about the milkman?
Yesterday while C was here having lunch Lillenne started to cry because I took something out of her room (an untamed wild stallion, don’t know how that got in there), and she started SCREAMING. So I picked her up and brought her into the living room, and she stopped screaming and gave C a smirk and a look that said “I own this woman.”
Just so everyone knows, I still have a baby. She eats from a bottle. She wears diapers and sleeps alot and she is a baby. Lillienne is a baby and she will always be a baby and I might be having a hard time adjusting to the fact that the first year of her life has gone by in a blink, although I remember every first, every important moment, I have memories of her babyness stashed away that I reflect upon often BECAUSE SHE IS GOING TO BE ONE IN A FEW WEEKS. And she is the first baby to have ever grown up and this is a big deal and all that other dramatic flair. It’s a huge thing. One already? Come on. Wasn’t it just yesterday that all she could do was lie on her back and grunt and flail her arms and legs? Wasn’t she just dozing in her fisher price swing a few weeks ago? Wasn’t I just crying for a double cheeseburger in my eight month of pregnancy the other day?