Do you anticipate, celebrate and reminisce about milestones for your children? Or for yourself?
This week Ava is officially 2 1/2 years old. (Where did the time go?) and Maddy Kay is 4 months old (I know where that time went: most of it was frigidly cold, home-bound and sleep-deprived). Ava is over 3 feet tall now (unofficially: according to the measurement on our pantry door, a la Andy Davis, and all his toys, of course) and Ava and I watched Maddy roll over from her belly to her back just the other day. (Of course, their proud papa was out running — for a good cause! — when it happened. He’ll catch it soon.)
AND … their mama (that’s me) fit back into her pre-pregnancy jeans, which are worn thin and have holes in both knees and apparently are in dire need of replacement anyway. I haven’t seen them in several months. At least I fit back into them before I
say goodbye wear them again tomorrow. I’ll admit it.
I wish I was one of those moms who kept detailed records of her child’s every new turn, tooth and time-out. I wish that someday my kids could ask me, “How old was I when…” and I would know the precise answer off the top of my head, or could at least disappear to the (organized) office and reappear with an (organized) baby book of all the important milestones. I wish I had kept a pregnancy journal (twice now) detailing all of the excitement, nervousness, puking and general amazement at what this body (my body?!) can take, only to find out what it really could take two weeks after my due date (twice) via two natural deliveries. (I’m so fortunate.)
By now you’ve surmised (correctly) that I am not one of those moms. Which is strange, because I love words. You’d think I’d at least journal about not only the milestones, but also the crazy, fun, laugh-out-loud scenarios that are constantly occurring with a toddler in your house.
I am a mom who celebrates milestones. I just have to think about what was going on at the time, in order to remember when it happened. That, and a little rounding to the nearest…
For example, Matt travels to Palm Springs, CA, every March for a week-long work conference. (Poor guy, I know…) Two years ago, Ava could sit up on her own, on the floor (with a “first-time mom” pillow securely behind her) to Skype with her Daddy. Do the quick math (even my English major brain can handle this one…): she was 6 months old when she could sit up. She was rolling over with ease about a month earlier, because when her grandparents were in town to visit Valentine’s weekend, she wouldn’t do it, even though she could … making a liar out of me at a very young age.
Same thing with crawling: she was on her hands and knees rocking back and forth Memorial Day weekend when our friends came down for the most sweltering Reds/Indians series in Cincinnati history. By extrapolation … she was crawling at 9 months.
Now teeth? That’s when I could use a book. I know she was “teething” for months before one finally popped through. (That was my reason for every bit of fussiness out of her … and it was true! Those teeth are moving and causing pain, long before they appear. I’m certain I’ve read that somewhere…) Ava has 20 teeth now, and I love watching her mimic my actions while we brush our teeth together in the morning, her eyes constantly on my mouth.
Walking (running) at 11 months, signing (not sure when it started, maybe 7, or 12 months? ha!) was very reliable at 15 months. I remember because she politely signed, and said, the word “please” to the waiter at the Greenbrier that Christmas, effectively smearing her delicious breakfast of black/blue/rasp/strawberries all over her beautiful white dress as her flat palm circled her chest. That was also when Ava finally
was big enough weighed enough for us to turn her carseat around to face front, which apparently we shouldn’t have done. But it did make the 10-hour road trip much easier on us.
By her 18-month check-up, she was speaking in sentences and I reported to Dr. Joe I had lost count of the number of words she used. That was Opening Day last year, for which I had recently discovered I would be the DD. (Who takes a pregnancy test on St. Paddy’s Day?) I have every intention of making up for it next week, by the way…
There you go, Ava-girl … your very own “baby book”, blogger-style.
Reminiscing about the milestones is the next best thing to recording them, right?
What’s the Double Milestone, you say? Well, the girls are growing up, and I can wear pants without an elastic waistband again. Reminiscing, reliving … and reminding myself that we are so incredibly blessed.
If you have suggestions to help this scatter-brained mama keep track of her babies’ milestones, please, PLEASE enlighten me.