10 months

As much as I would love to be the mom who takes adorably posed baby photos showing my child's progression each month on her birthday, that effort has clearly stopped. Frankly, I'm pretty pleased I made it as long as I did. But, as they say, life got in the way. I have a freakin' 10-month-old for shit's sake.

Anyway, onto the baby stats.

Weight: 16 lbs., 14 oz.
Length: Dunno. She seems pretty tall still.

Eyes: Still blue
Hair: Almost time for a haircut, I think...
Tooth count: 5.5 (three top, two bottom, a third bottom one cutting right now)

Attitude toward canine siblings: Mesmerized by everything they do

Likes
"Let It Go" -- this video is her crack and I thank God for Idina Menzel every time my kid is having a meltdown, because playing this song from Frozen quiets her instantly. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Clapping
Walking with her walker
Peanut butter toast
Feeding herself
Brushing teeth
Waving "bye-bye"
Saying "hi" (sounds like "hah") to every random person who walks by
Touching her nose when I ask, "Where's your nose?" (GENIUS BABY. Especially because she didn't touch her nose when her smart-ass dad asked, "Where's your butt?")

Dislikes
Baby pools (too cold)
5-6pm
Fresh fruit
Not being allowed to stand in the bath tub
Walking on her own

Honestly, it's getting harder for me to figure out what she hates. Don't get me wrong, she's VERY vocal when she gets mad, but it's a total crapshoot figuring out what's causing her 'tude.

Lots of firsts

Ava's been turning into a little person lately and it's both hilarious and awesome to watch her grow. Her latest list of firsts, all happening during her ninth month:

First time really playing with other kids

First time on an airplane (she did pretty well)

First time meeting the family, including Uncle Johnny




First experience with grass




First time walking with her walker!

Daycare recap

We're on our official Week 3 of daycare and it's been... an adjustment. Here's a quick recap:

Week 1
Day 1: Ava was too sick to go. Great start!
Day 2: Ava was displeased when I left.
Day 3-5: Ava was SO PISSED when I left. Scream-cries. I picked her up early some days because I just couldn't handle her being so upset.

Week 2
Day 1: Dropped Ava off immediately after leaving the airport from our family weekend in NY. She got sent home a few short hours later with a fever.
Day 2: Too sick to go.
Day 3: Too sick to go. Is this for real?
Day 4: Went, but screamed bloody murder when I dropped her off. I feel like this isn't working out.
Day 5: Repeat Day 4, except she also cried in the car on the way there (and didn't stop until I rapidly opened and shut her window for the 10 min. drive). Fussy during the day and didn't seem happy. I'm so ready to quit my job and my life just to stay home and comfort this poor, angry nugget 24/7.

Week 3
Day 1: Better day... Ava sat at a table and did a puzzle all by herself.
Day 2: Good day... Ava played with another kid for nearly 30 min. without needing any teacher comfort/reassurance. She also hugged her main teacher, Miss Felicia.
Day 3: Another good day! Ava didn't cry as much when I left because I stuffed her face with Puffs and ran away. During the day, she "painted" a strawberry -- and cracked up the teachers because she kept staring at her hands when they were covered in paint -- and ate a meatball with lunch.

I think she's starting to find her groove. She still cries when I leave, but it's already more short-lived. She prefers to play by herself in a crib, which they let her do for an hour or so as a way to get her more comfortable and build her confidence. I think it's working. Bonus: She's quiet as a mouse in the mornings now when she wakes up because she just entertains herself until I come get her.

In hindsight, transitioning to daycare in the midst of the separation-anxiety stage may not have been the best idea, but we're getting there. The sickness is a major downer (she spiked a 102 fever tonight out of nowhere, too. Praying it doesn't last through tomorrow), but she's definitely getting the socialization and new experiences I wanted.

I just hope it keeps getting better.

Brace yourselves; daycare is coming

Monday marks Ava's first day of daycare and I'm having that parental freak-out where you doubt everything ever.

Is it the right move for her?
Will she get enough attention?
What if she doesn't sleep?
Will she pick up bad habits from shitty kids?
Are the teachers going to be attentive enough?
Is she going to be freaked out by a new environment?
Will she feel abandoned?
WHAT AM I DOING?

I know.

I need to get ahold of myself.

Especially because this last week marked our "transition days" at daycare. Here's how it went:

TRANSITION DAY 1
I took Ava for 1 hour at the end of the day and hung out with her so she'd be comfortable. She crawled all over the classroom (away from me -- good sign), touched other kids' faces like a weirdo, tried to steal another baby's bottle, took 50 toys off the shelves and chewed on a rubber elephant. Success.

TRANSITION DAY 2
I took Ava for 1 hour in the morning, but hid out of sight for most of it. She was a little confused, which may be because of daycare or may be because it was the morning. She's out of it in the morning. She didn't crawl around as much. She mostly watched everything going on around her. Okay, then.

TRANSITION DAY 3
I took Ava for 2 hours in the morning and left her there. I. Was. Traumatized. I always thought it was so absurd when these mothers cried after dropping their kids off, but holy cow, I get it. I didn't cry, but I was instantly sad, for no reason. I work two blocks away for Christ's sake. But it just felt like I was dumping her and leaving her with strangers and weird kids and no dogs and oh no what have I done?

When I picked her up, she had just woken up from a nap. "Wait, MY kid napped?" I asked. She did indeed, along with the other children. A lovely 20-min power-nap in a cozy bouncer. The only time she cried was when she wanted her diaper changed, they said. I was shocked it went so well.

But Monday is a whole different ballgame. That's her first full day. I've already enlisted Dave to come with me so I don't lose my mind. I already got my webcam access rolling. I'm trying not to be a neurotic loon.

Please pray.

The cuddle-hug

Pop-pop is the best.

He may live 500+ miles away, but within 5 min. of him walking in the door, this happened:

9 months

Weight: 16 lbs., 11 oz. (25th percentile)
Length: 28.25 (75th percentile)
Head: 90th percentile. Dang.

Eyes: Still blue
Hair: Wild. Is it getting lighter?
Tooth count: 4 (two top, two bottom -- time to start "brushing")

Attitude toward canine siblings: Scream-laughs at Elsie, which freaks her out; obsessed with Rocco's ears

Likes
Crawling. She's a speed demon
Pulling herself up on everything
Standing on her own, but only for 4 sec. at a time
Eating Puffs
Sophie the Giraffe
Trying to say "hi"
"Waving"/hand-flailing, kinda on cue
Messing with the baby monitor (STOP THAT)
Chewing her crib (STOP THAT TOO)
Touching everything with only her index finger
Picking other people's noses
Fake laughing whenever we laugh
Putting her head on our shoulders / cuddle-hugging

Dislikes
When Mom leaves the room (tears! daycare should be fun!)
Sitting still for bedtime books, even 10 Little Ladybugs
NUK bottles (eff those things; Comotomo and Avent all the way)
Being put on her back
Wearing baby sunglasses

Grandparent names are hard

Long before Ava was born, I gave my parents grandparent-names on behalf of their grand-puppies. (I know, I'm THAT dog owner.) Because Arrested Development was a minor obsession of mine, I decided that my mom would be Gangy and my dad would be Pop-Pop. Done and done.

Then, I got pregnant. I still thought it would be hilarious if they kept those names, but my mom, Fran, had other ideas.

Back when Fran was, oh, 45, she attended Grandparents Day at a neighborhood school because her BFF's son didn't have a local grandma. He called her "Gran-Fran" and she had a ball. (Terrifying side note: She wasn't too much younger than the real grandparents. Yay, The South!)

Ever since then, she's envisioned being Gran-Fran. And who am I to demand otherwise, especially when the name I picked alludes to a rich, drunk narcissist with an attitude problem (aka, my spirit animal)?

So, she became Gran-Fran. My dad stuck with Pop-Pop because neither he nor I is creative enough to come up with something more meaningful. And there we have it: Gran-Fran and Pop-Pop.

I guess it's up to Ava if those really stick.