Not that I dislike being with my daughter all day--I like it a lot. Seeing her personality, how she responds to me and watching her do the things she likes to do, are all part--a small part--of being a parent and helping a small child grow up. I'm not as fearful physically as I used to be, of dropping her or breaking her neck by holding her, or something like that. (I'm a nervous enough nellie to have put a chain lock on the basement door, so that she can't open it even if she works the door handle open, however.) I've certainly learned how to be more comfortable handling my baby in the course of a day's regular tasks, such as changing diapers, or bundling her in and out of the car.
And it's a joy listening to her own little language as she goes on talking about things. And she does talk. Many words of her own are recognizable, and will appear fairly regularly (such as "duh-gyieh"--which might mean "doggie", though there isn't always a dog around when she says it. She does seem to know "ki-tieh", for kitty, and of course "mama" and "dada" are certain by now). But otherwise, she mostly babbles.
And when I'm sitting at my desk, and Eva crawls over, pulls herself up to a standing position at me, and begins prattling, well, it's impossible not to look down and smile. Sometimes I let her prattle, sometimes I lift her up onto my lap. Though it's hard to keep her there without her going after everything within reach on the desk, which is where the problems begin.
My sister Julie gave me a bit of advice not too long ago, seeing as I'm the stay-at-home parent: "Give her 5 minutes and she'll give you 30." In other words, 5 minutes of play with her, will give her the ideas and motivation to play on her own for another half hour (or so). Well, I've been trying that, and so far, the rule plays out more like, Give her 5 minutes, and she'll give me 3.
So learning patience is a part of parenthood. I am learning, I can claim that much.
But here we are in Maine again, and the Atkins diet is history for us, as we feasted on a large pepperoni pizza (with extra sauce, of course), and Eva with us. Good to know that we'll be making sure Eva gets her carbos from now on (she gets plenty of protein as it is--she eats an adult portion of tuna every day at lunch).
One year, 21 lbs 10 oz, 31 inches long. Amazon Eve, she's gonna be.
Now by the time she'd learned to crawl--at the end of June, just before I headed down to the Deepwater spill for the first time--she was already trying to stand. Crawling was just never really a priority for her, and to this day, she retains the noisy floor-slapping habit I taught her (trying to emphasize the pick-the-hand-up-then-put-it-down aspect), and she often picks her knees up and goes on all fours, with only hands and feet.
But she's kept on trying to stand and walk, and it's a regular thing now for Eva to stand up beside something, put one or both hands on it, and sidle along while she balances herself against the object (couch, refrigerator, table, person, whatever's handy). And she's been standing, however wobblily, for weeks now.
But tonight she walked.
Not too far--four or five steps--but not the crashing-forward, unbalanced steps before she hits the deck. She took deliberate, planted steps and was just as balanced afterward as before. While Dave was telling me here downstairs about the somewhat tragic case of musician Emitt Rhodes, Kate and her mother were upstairs encouraging Eva to walk. Once they were satisfied with what they saw, they called me in, and of course I brought the videocam:
So there you have it! At a year and five days old, Eva's started walking.
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