steps

Waylon walks - about four to five feet at a time. Not steps, feet. There are lots of steps. And he is so proud of himself. We are so proud of him. We have a little party every time and we all clap and cheer. He has got to be the cutest little walker I've ever seen.

And he stayed in the church nursery on Sunday like a champ. Took the blanket. Pep-talked on the way there. No big deal.

My man.

trying to remember: eleven months

a fun visit with some of our favorite girls

already a Dave fan (Ramsey, that is)

exploring Lolly's tupperware cabinet

Oh man, Waylon is almost ONE. Gasp.

You know how when someone is gone and you start to lose pieces of them a little at a time until one day, something calls them to mind and you try your hardest, but you can't find enough pieces to create a whole person, a whole memory?? It's like that with my Mimi most of the time. I keep things that were hers, that meant something to her, around my house on purpose, just to make me think about her often enough that I have enough memory-pieces to survive on. Well, it's like that with Waylon...only he's still here. It's just that he's changing so fast that I can't seem to remember him the way he was. It feels like he's always been crawling, always been babbling fluently, always been pulling up and walking along the furniture, always been the way he is. This, my friends, is why I blog. For this exact reason, one should make a record, a readable record of goings-on to pull up, savor and recall. Remember.

I really think a memory is such an amazing, complicated, absurd thing. It's as though you have to work out your brain. I know I know. They say you really do - crosswords and whatnot. It's just that you don't really think about having to work to remember a person, someone so close to you that you know every freckle and cowlick and which fingernails grow the fastest. I must take more pictures. And write more blogs, or notes, or post-its or something.

I can barely recall what it felt like to hold Waylon's tiny new body 11 months ago. I can't tell you what an eight-pound Waylon felt like. I forgot. I bet it was the best feeling in the world...until the next time I held him. I still think about how chick-fuzzy his little head was and how wrinkly and baggy his skin was and how searching and wise his big eyes were...have always been. I have a good grip on those things cause I think about them all the time. They are some of my favorites.

One of Waylon's sonograms is framed right next to our computer in our living room - I can still remember exactly what it felt like for him to move in my belly. So is one of my all-time favorite pictures of him on his very first day, looking straight through the camera lens - big, knowing, wrinkly eyes. I haven't once considered changing those pictures out. I keep them around for the same reason I keep Mimi's bronze giraffe right here.

All that to say, Waylon is 11 months old now. Almost a whole year has gone by and my head is spinning. I can't say that my nostalgia has completely let me down - I have enough pieces to put together a baby Waylon. It's just that this has all happened so quickly. He's eleven months old, and he...

crawl-runs laps around the house
follows me everywhere

kisses on demand

comes to get me when he's got a poop diaper

pulls up on and walks along everything

is unquestioningly too big for size three diapers

is running out of clothes that fit right (come on fall consignment sales!)

has had two haircuts (I just did the second one myself this morning and am highly impressed.)

will go find Daddy if prompted

is still not interested in tv shows he should probably be interested in. This is ok with us.

whines

has ridden a three-wheeler with his Pop (just this past weekend!)

does not sleep late enough with me and Joey in the same room

naps better than he ever has before

has 10 teeth (still cutting his first molars. Those have been tough.)

still nurses four times a day and eats three big-kid meals

responds appropriately to the words dog, ball, Lolly, Mama, Daddy, Waylon, hey, no, come here

is amazingly cooperative with this whole boundaries thing

listens very well

says 'yes' at just the right time

loves loves books

has tried to eat fireplace gravel twice

loves a bath

tolerates teeth-brushing

thinks Daddy's golf swing is hillarious

gets more fun by the minute

His personality is magnetic. I really am astonished at how mature he seems sometimes and how happy he is almost always. He plays so well by himself for long periods of time, all the while acknowledging the 'boundaries' Joey and I have set in place for him. He is so smart and curious and interactive and observant. And sometimes sensitive. And always entertaining.

He is my favorite person.