It's Nice to be Neece: 9 months.

Dear Norah

You are 9 months old my sweet dear. I can’t believe how the time has flown, and actually how repetitive I sound talking about that. You are such a delight. You laugh and giggle and actually know when you are being funny.

You celebrated your first Easter! You got attached to a chick your cousin Erin brought you. It was so ugly and gross but you loved it!

You have major separation anxiety, which continually grows and tests me. I want so badly for you to love people, and if I’m honest, for people to love you. I feel the tension to parent out of man pleasing rather than God fearing. I want people to like you, I want you to go to them when they reach for you. I also want to do what’s best for you. This attachment to me is natural. It’s a gift. I am your safety. There’s a reason we have the phrase “mother ship”. I get to be your rock. Your safe zone, your cheering section. You’ve discovered that. And for that I am grateful. So in each moment I ask God for wisdom. Do I hand you off and run to the other room so you stop crying? Do I hand you off and try to comfort you as you cry and reach for me? Am I creating a monster? The truth is most of the time I have no idea. Just walking through this one day at a time, and enjoying it.

You are a crawling machine, and you crawl with such purpose. You follow me around the house, my little companion. You are often content to sit in the hallway, playing with a bucket of toys that I leave for out for you, while watching me get ready. It is precious.

You’ve developed a way to have “conversations” with us. You lean in with your mouth wide open when we say give kisses! When your daddy starts to recite from the Clifford book you smile with delight. You rub your nose against ours for eskimo kisses. You occasionally wave.

You’ve been into exploring. You take things out for the pure joy of discovery. This could be anything. The contents of my diaper bag…the dog’s toys from the basket….your toys from the basket…your books from your shelf, the sky is the limit. Speaking of, you are also attempting to pull up. You are my stander. Although I think walking is still a long, long way off!

Your dad said to me the other day how much he is enjoying you and this stage you are at. He’s really able to bond with you, and you adore him.

We adore you sweet girl. And we pray for the strength and wisdom to parent and train you. You are my dolly. My baby. I love you!

Love, Mama