The Gordita

Dear Laney,

We hit the outlet mall today, which made your grandmother happy, and made your dad miserable. You know how he hates crowds, retail stores that aren't REI and any temperature above 50 degrees, so for him, an outlet mall in south Florida is the perfect storm.

While I was strolling you around the mall, the Latinas kept pointing to you in your stroller and using the Spanish word "gordita." I didn't know what it meant, so I called Amy. Amy said that "gordita" means really really chubby.

I think that's mean. You're NOT gordita. You're just gordita-ISH.

Love,

Mom

Four Generations of Squinty-Eyed Short Women

Dear Laney,

One of the things I was most excited about for your first Christmas was introducing you to your great-aunt Robyn.

I was named for Robyn and we have a lot of things in common: We have the same toes. Our purses and our cars are always a mess. We both like to hang out at home with our dogs and usually hate to talk on the phone.

But Robyn has some other great qualities that I don't always have - she's patient and helpful and beautiful and almost never says ugly things about people, even when they probably deserve it.

So...if you wanted to take after your great aunt, that'd be super.

Love,

Mom

P.S. If you're going to be photogenic, it's going to have to come from your Dad's side of the family.

Wish They All Could Be Alberton Girls

Dear Laney,

We're spending your first Christmas in Florida with your grandparents, your great-grandmother and your great-aunt Robyn. I think you like it here, because the weather allows you to be pants-optional, and we all know how you feel about going pantsless.

Santa found you all the way down in Miramar, so you must have been good this year. Then again, you only had to be good for four months.

Love,

Mom

Santa's Grumpiest Elf

Dear Laney,

I took you to the mall today to have your picture taken with Santa Claus. We got there 20 minutes early so we would be the first people in line, and you would still be in a good mood when it came time for your photo.

While we were waiting, you started making that sound you love to make...the one that sounds like "EEEEEEEEEE!" There was a 4 year old boy in line behind us, and he thought it would be funny to make that sound back to you. For 20 whole minutes, all of us in line had to listen to:

"EEEEEEEEEE!"

"EEEEEEEEEE!"

"EEEEEEEEEE!"

"EEEEEEEEEE!"

Then, it was the big moment: time for you to meet Santa. And all of a sudden, your good mood disappeared and you were READY TO GO HOME. NOW.

Dad and I love this picture, because you look like an elf in Santa's workshop who's about to go on strike. Oh well, we'll try again next year.

Love,

Mom

You're On The Chart!

Dear Laney,

When we took you to your 2-month Dr.'s appointment, we learned that you were in the 75th percentile for height, and your weight was "off the charts." Today, we took you for your 4-month appointment. You got a few more shots (both of us cried less than we did last time - yay, us!) Then, Dr Hoover told us that you're in the 90th percentile for height and in the 99th for weight. Granny Jack pointed out that at least you're on the chart.

Now, stop trying to eat wrapping paper, and we'll really start making progress.

Love,

Mom

The Great Outdoors

Dear Laney,

You went on a hike with Dad today. I tried not to laugh for the whole fifteen minutes it took Dad to get you into this snowsuit. You looked like the little boy in the movie "The Christmas Story" who falls down in the snow and can't get up because he's wearing too many clothes.

You didn't look like much of a rugged mountain woman with that pacifier in your mouth. Also - you slept through the whole thing.

...But maybe I would enjoy nature a lot more, too, if someone would just haul me around while I nap.

Love,

Mom

Laney's Rules

Dear Laney,

It's your world, we're just living in it.

So far, you have taught us the following rules and preferences:

1. Always the green pacifier. Sometimes the clear pacifiers. NEVER the purple pacifier.

2. When you're stressed, you prefer to nap on your side.

3. You do NOT like to be held facing in to the person who's holding you, UNLESS that person produces a boob.

4. Being two minutes late to feed you is okay. Being three minutes late IS NOT.

5. You like your bottles really warm. No, warmer than that. A little warmer. NO! THAT'S TOO WARM.

6. You cover your eyes when the light is too bright. Your pediatrician actually lowers the light when she checks on you, because you let her know what you thought about her bright office.

7. Cutting your toenails? Fine. Cutting your fingernails? THE END OF THE WORLD.

8. Blankets covering your legs are unacceptable. As God is your witness, you refuse to keep a blanket over your legs. If we drape one over you, you become a mini Rockette until that thing is gone.

9. Gus can lick your feet, but NO ONE can touch the back of your neck.

10. When you're unhappy, we can make it better by singing "I Will Survive" or "King of the Road," but bouncing you on our knee makes a bad situation worse. Much worse.

I'm sure that over the years, you will teach us eight million more of these. Be patient with us - sometimes it takes us a while to catch on. We're trying to keep up, but we're old.

Be gentle.

Love,

Mom

Your First Christmas Present

Dear Laney,

Your Grandma Sue gave you your first Christmas present this morning, and to me, this is what it looks like you're thinking in these pictures:

1. "Wow, I got a present!"

2. "What's a present?"

3. "Where's the gift receipt?"

The gift turned out to be an awesome teething ring made out of little bug-shaped rubber beads. I know you love it, because you've already slobbered all over it. That's how you show your love for things: with drool. You and Gus have that in common.

Love,

Mom

Thanks, Grandma Sue

Dear Laney,

I had a lot of work to do this week, so your Grandma came over from Spokane so you would have someone to play with. The two of you read books and watched "The West Wing" and sang songs and learned how to catalog shop - all very important things.

She also brought over a big tin of the BEST COOKIES EVER. I have eaten five of them today. So, if your mom weighs 400 pounds when you read this, it's your grandmother's fault.

Love,

Mom

Shopping Is Exhausting

Dear Laney,

For the first few months of your life, I was scared to take you anywhere. I was worried that you would become unhappy in the middle of an errand and cause a scene. One thing about you, Laney: when you're unhappy, you LET PEOPLE KNOW.

But now, you've become a lot more reasonable. You seem to like shopping, or at least getting out and seeing new things and new people. And when all else fails, you're happy to go to sleep.

As Granny Jack would say, "Thank you for being flexible and cooperative."

Love,

Mom

P.S. Pay no attention to the beer in the cart. It's certainly not there because you never let us sleep and Mama needs to take the edge off. No way.

Here's The Thing About Peg Peg

Dear Laney,

If finding a bargain was an Olympic event, your grandmother would take home the Gold. She thinks about you every time she goes shopping. I know this, because every week, a new box of clothes and goodies arrives at our mailbox.

If nothing else, you are the best-dressed baby in Alberton.

But here's the thing: Your grandmother loves you very much, and she's a sucker. If I tell her you could use a pair of brown pants, she sends six.

Try not to use this power for Evil.

Love,

Mom

He Who Shall Be Named Later

Dear Laney,

Your grandfather Philip from Georgia came to visit us this Thanksgiving. He doesn't like mountains or snow, so you must be pretty special.

He put your stroller together and wheeled you around the grocery store while I shopped. And after Thanksgiving dinner, he let you be on our Trivial Pursuit team, even though you obviously don't know anything about Geography or Science and Nature yet.

It's interesting how you can know your parents your whole life, but when they become grandparents, you see them in a whole new way. It's so nice to get to sit back and watch everyone fall in love with you.

Philip says that he doesn't want to be called Grandpa, so you'll have to come up with a great name for him when you get a little older. I'm sure you'll think of something great that doesn't make him sound too old.

Love,

Mom

You and Your Fingers

Dear Laney,

For the longest time, you had this love/hate relationship with your fingers. Sometimes, you would manage to accidentally get one of your fingers in your mouth and you would be SO HAPPY - it was like someone had given you the BEST TREAT EVER. But then your arm would jerk, and your fingers would go flying away from your mouth and you would be VERY VERY ANGRY.

We all thought it would be a wonderful day when you learned that YOU are the one in control of those fingers, and you can have them any time you want.

Well, it finally happened. You figured out that you are in charge of your hands, and you're taking advantage of it. You've taste-tested all of your fingers, and so far, it seems like you like your index fingers the best.

We're happy for you.

Love,

Mom

The Tantrum Stops Here

I don't want to cuddled.

Don't want to be held.

Don't like to be looked at, talked to

or smelled.

Don't want to sing songs

Don't want to play

I'm just mad as hell

Someone's ruined my day.

My face is bright red

My screaming? Full throttle!

No, I DON'T want a back rub

a boob or a bottle.

I put on a show

the whole house - my stage

I'm quite the performer:

16 Pounds Of Rage!

Mom looks like hell

Daddy's gone for a beer

So I guess for today...

The tantrum stops here.

Short People Got Nobody

Dear Laney,

There's a song by Randy Newman called "Short People," that goes:

They got little baby legs
That stand so low
You got to pick em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That go beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep

I thought about it the first time I put you in your Jumperoo, and had to put a pillow under your feet so you could touch the ground.

I am very sorry you will never play in the WNBA. Blame your dad.

Love,

Mom