This is the fourth in a 12 month series of letters written to my children. I'm so excited (and honored) to be a part of this great project with a group of fellow photographers and moms. Next up in our circle is my friend Allison, read her post here.
Dear Liam-
Two weeks ago you could sit, but not move, and you had no teeth. Since then, it feels like you're running a race. First the teeth came, April 8 was the first one. Then another three days later. Then another a few days later. So now when you smile (which is a lot these days) you have a little toothy grin. This week, though, was even bigger. Last weekend you started getting up on your knees more and more when you leaned for things. I thought pretty soon you were going to try to crawl. On Monday you crawled. At first it was shaky, only a couple of paces. You were tucking a knee. I thought it was generous to call it crawling, but technically speaking it seemed to fit. On Tuesday it was not a technicality. You were crawling. Every day this week you've been steadier, quicker and covering more distance. On Wednesday, you pulled yourself to stand at the train table. Just like that. Now, it's lucky that I was sitting right there, because you grabbed the toy you had your eye on, and let go. But you stood. Later that day you did it again, this time using a diaper box to pull up. Your sisters cheered, while I ran to catch you when you slipped. Rowan said, "Oh, I just thought you were excited." I was...and terrified. Wood floors are not the easiest for learning to get around. Today you figured out how to get yourself back up into a sitting position from your belly. Until today, that was a dilemma when you were crawling. You'd get tired, or slip, and end up on your belly. Then you were stuck, and you'd cry for me to come get you. Today you planted your knees and pushed yourself back up. All of this feels like an explosion. My head is spinning a bit, and I can only imagine the revolution it is for you. You seem thrilled with yourself, mostly. You do these things, make eye contact with me and grin. I've heard your laugh more in the last week than in all the time before. It's also pretty exhausting, suddenly having you able to get into things that were safe until a few days ago. And "this kid never sits still" has taken on a whole new meaning.
I was thinking, this week, about your neglected baby book. Maybe by the time you see it, it will be all filled in. But right now, it's neglected, I admit. There are dates that I just don't know. Milestones that slipped by unrecorded. I worried to myself that you might think that it's because you're the fourth, and it's just not that exciting for us anymore when it happens. But that's not true, if you're wondering. It is because you're the fourth, but not in the way that people think. For me, over the last few years of being a mom, I've learned something. The date isn't really that important. It's interesting, yes. You're the youngest crawler of all of my kids, for instance. That's a piece of trivia for you. My point is, please don't confuse not recording things well enough with not being interested. I can't necessarily tell you the first day you smiled. Or laughed. Or rolled from back to front. What I can tell you is that we loved it, and you. You were cheered and celebrated, by me and your dad and all three of your sisters. You would think you'd walked on the Moon when you stood up next to that box of diapers. I don't think that should surprise you, because I think in the future when you read this, you will have a lot more experience with the awesome cheering section we've got going here. But just in case you doubt it, I'm putting it here for posterity. We cheered.
Love Always, Mama
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