14 month old Beansprout
I looked at the calendar this morning and couldn’t believe that you turn fourteen months today. When did that happen? I thought we were still in the BEGINNING of April! Funny how my memory has been compromised, since you hit the scene. Starting with pregnancy, certain things become involuntarily selective in my memory. Appointments were missed (or arrived at late), and multi-tasking became a brain bending feat I was no longer capable of. Then I had you and it went even further downhill.
Now, in the shower every morning I start to think of all the things I want to accomplish in the day. I make long, detailed mental lists. Stuff that is really important, that I must remember. Yet, when I towel off and walk out of the bathroom my hair still sopping, the entire list has been usurped by one thought: COFFEE. You’re teething again, nose running fiercely, thrashing about in the middle of the night with your feet in my face, looking for solace, and this only increases the severity of my addiction.
This month in your development has been fascinating from a linguistic standpoint. Your receptive language increases exponentially everyday, and I’m watching you make connections between words and things.
You point to the ceiling light sconce, “Light,” I say. You point to the bedside table lamp, “Light,” I name it for you again.
Then you point outside, up into the sky towards the sun, “La!” you say.
You can follow simple directions now—if you want. You run to find your monkey, or your shoes, or truck and bring them to me, grinning widely—when you feel like cooperating. Other times you totally ignore me, more interested in hauling the broom around the house or pushing buttons on my printer (which you are now tall enough to reach.)
“Go find your socks,” I can say, and you’ll run off and find them and bring them proudly. Or I can say, “Go find your socks,” and you’ll shake your head, run off, and come back carrying the cookie sheet from the kitchen. You know the difference, and seeing your own volition taking shape is at once thrilling and daunting.
I love listening to your first attempts at expressive language: “Ki-gi” you say, pointing to the kitty. “Duhg!” You say, eagerly pointing at every dog we pass. You say “Buh, buh, buh” when you see gulls or pigeons in the park, and “Bath!” when it’s time for the tub. You know what I mean when I say, “Okay, you can pull out the drain now,” and every night you look with a mixture of terror and glee as the water swirls down the drain after your bath. Almost every day you try out a new set of consonants and vowels, and yet I can’t imagine what it will be like to hear you really TALK, just like a few short months ago, it seemed inconceivable that you’d be walking, and now you’re running every place.
You no longer walk with your arms akimbo, and you know now to look down at the ground to help you navigate around obstacles. Tool use suddenly makes sense to you too, and you try to figure out the purpose of everything. You use your little hammer to pound the pegs on your workbench. You use both the fork and spoon and successfully get bites into your mouth. And you love using the broom to knock things off high shelves that you can’t otherwise reach, although you can reach many things now that you figured out how to CLIMB: on the dining room chairs, up the book case (at least onto the bottom shelf), onto the ottoman, the wheelbarrow in the back yard.
There is so much that I want to remember about this time: the way you burst into tears sometimes when Daddy leaves, and how you run to the window saying, “Dada!” when his truck pulls into the driveway (you also say “Dada!” every time you see a red truck pass by as though there is only one red truck in the world and it belongs to YOUR Daddy.) I want to remember how you’ve started to lie down on the carpet or the sheepskin fleece by my desk when you’re tired, tummy down, feet tucked beneath you, and start singing yourself little songs. I want to bottle you up right now: the way your skin smells, sweet and warm; the way your hair curls at the nape of your neck; the way when I smile at you always smile back.
A hundred kisses,
Mama
20 Responses to “14 month old Beansprout”
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christina,
again you have melted my heart. every child should be so lucky to have a mommy (and/or daddy) who journals their growing up like this. what a treat this will be for him to read later..and how deeply he will KNOW he is and was loved. kudos to you for taking/making the time…
I saw your photos come up on my Flickr contacts page, but resisted looking at them until your blog entry was ready - I wanted to read about Bean’s latest exploits first! Bean really does look like a little boy now, no longer a baby - especially here and in the cat food avalanche. How wonderful that he’ll have his Mama’s memories to look back on when he’s finally a big boy.
So beautiful. I bet watching your children grow up, accepting that they will be different and change every day, is one of the hardest, yet most exciting things a parent encounters.
You’re going about it with such grace, Christina. Bean is oh so very lucky to have such a wonderful mother.
I love these posts about your boy. I love your photos; the curls in the back, climbing up the wheelbarrow and sleeping on the pretty fabric. All of it’s so wonderful and an honor to have a wee one.
beautiful
and
sweet
and
the photos…
those big, big wide open eyes
oh bean! I was looking back through your photos and am amazed at how much he has changed in so short a time period. I only hope I can document my own baby’s progress as well as you have - lucky bean, and lucky mom!
First I had chills reading this, and then my heart melted all over my chair, leaving a big gooey stickey mess. All I can think about now is how I wish I had written more things down when my children were that age.
That kid of yours is just so amazing… his curls, his sweet expressive eyes, his wonder at the world and the things he sees around him everyday. Happy 14m, Bean. I can’t believe how big you’re getting!
What a bless-ed little boy. And he is SUCH a little boy now, and not just a baby - I can see the changes in his face! I’m so glad you’re recording this - the part about how he lays down on the sheepskin rug and sings himself songs broke my heart into tiny pieces, all singing of their own wish for motherhood. I can’t wait. Yay, Bean, keep growing up so delightfully and full of mischief and light.
Happy 14 months to not-so-little-anymore Bean! The picture of him sleeping is too precious:) and I love the one of him climbing the wheelbarrow.
What gorgeous photos… those eyes! I linked here via the “random site” option on CHBM and I love your blog!
Oh happy 14 months to you little Bean! You are just the cutest little Bean ever!
Oh this makes me want to cry…I have a 16 month old and it’s breaking my heart to watch him grow and morph into an independant little man. I wish he could stay this chubby little angel baby forever. *sniffle*
I have saved your site as one of my favorites for this very reason. You and your little boy inspire many including myself. He’s irresistable and you are amazing. Love his eyes and your words.
Happy 14 months little bean!! Oh, aren’t they the most wonderful, precious little blessings ever?!! I wish I could bottle my sweetie’s smell also … SO SWEET!
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Yeah— that’s a word/sound for what I said when I read this enchantment—so beautiful.
Oh, he’s so precious…this made me want to cry. I’m already seeing this “older baby” look in my Madam and while I glory in her changes, on some primal level I want her to stay small and connected to me forever.
I had to laugh when I read your coffee comment…that’s EXACTLY what happens to me!
He’s going to be talking MILES per minute by eighteen months. I’m talking nonstop paragraphs! You mark my words. I loved this stage with Ford and I’m enjoying now, with Chas.
He is beautiful, Christina. Absolutely angelic. Keep documenting those footlong eyelashes. Jeez!
So. Incredibly. Sweet.
happy birthday handsome beanie sprout!
your cuteness astounds me.
look at those eyes…wow.
mama must melt every day, don’t ya mama?