Anders at 10 months.

This boy is 10 months old today (okay, he was ten months old when I began writing this last week. Now he’s like ten and a half months old and it was like only three seconds ago?). I have nothing new to say about this, about how time whiplash is very real, nor will I ever get an answer to the constantly nagging question of how are we already here. I’ve said it all a million times and in a million different ways but still it’s there demanding an answer knowing full well that an answer will never come. Instead, I’m trying new things. To just let it be. It is what it is. To acknowledge that swiftly moving time is simply a mother’s cross to bear, harder for some than others (I’m one of those. It is very, very hard for me.). But acknowledging its sadness means you must also acknowledge its blessing. They travel hand-in-hand. I love these days and so I don’t want these days to end. On and on it goes.

Instead of all of that which I said I wouldn’t say but said anyway, let’s talk about Anders, shall we? He is a beautiful, bouncing baby boy (who’s mother apparently has a thing for alliteration) and we’re totally in love with him. He wakes up in the morning and moves about the bed, literally unable to stay still, throwing himself on my chest, falling down, sitting up again, finding his voice and holding one note for an impressive length of time. Sometimes he does so with one hand out as if he’s imploring you… to get up with him? To get him a cup of coffee? A croissant? We’re not sure but it’s awfully cute. He has two teeth on the bottom, with a third just peeking through, and one tooth on top with a second (though not the other big front tooth; rather, the one next to it) making its way. He wants to eat food, all food, but nursing is still his favorite and he almost never turns it down. His hair nearly glitters, it’s so shiny and blonde, and his blue eyes are especially cute when he first wakes up, blinking, slightly sleep-swollen, and almost Cabbage-Patch-like. He has gotten so much attention in Italy, from men and women alike, that now if we’re anywhere and people aren’t immediately looking upon him, he stares at them waiting as if to say, “Here I am! Hellooooo!?” He’s starting to stand a little bit, and is especially annoyed if I’m on the bed and he’s on the ground. He’ll lift himself up, exerting every ounce of effort he can muster to do so, and looks up at you begging to be lifted the rest of the way. Sometimes he finds himself in a position that he’s not sure about and he’ll freeze, holding himself in place, crying to be rescued. We rescue him immediately. He doesn’t stay still for a minute and Steve and I liken it to wrestling a baby alligator. If he’s awake, he is moving, grabbing, on the go.  In Italy we were so busy, and our apartments weren’t always the most baby-friendly to a new crawler (a lot of hard tile or ceramic floors!), so now that we’ve arrived in Switzerland, he is in his glory, crawling everywhere, touching things, standing up, sitting down. Parker just set up a train track only to discover Anders quickly crawling towards it. “No, Anders, no!” I explained to Parker that this is his new reality (!!).  In bed at night, I cuddle up next to him when he’s already sleeping soundly, getting my face really close to his. I look at him for a minute or two, basically in awe at how perfect he is and how much I love him, that he came out of my belly. Having babies feels like the closest thing to a miracle that I’ll ever take part in.

Happy ten months, Anders. I completely adore you.