associated in random thought

note to bananie.com readers

hello friends,

as you can tell, bananie.com's been a bit empty over the past yearish, save for the monthly letters, which, honestly, are cut/pasted from the blog i've been actually updating.

though i continue to be more and more public with this other blog, i still hesitate to link to it from here, if only to keep the "you're going to hell, so is your child, ps jesus loves you" trolls at bay for a little while longer. (i am so grateful for the ability to moderate comments, btw.)

if you are a friend or reader or readerfriend of mine, and would like the link to my active blog, please leave me a comment or send me an email. i will gladly provide the link.

as for the future of bananie? for now it remains a placeholder and testament of my becoming a more whole self over the past seven years. and that's the way it will remain for the timebeing. i will let you know if i come up with any brilliant plans for this space. suggestions are welcome.

x,
your bananie.

one year.

hello big girl jude,

you, my love, are a year old, and i am at a loss for words. the innocence mission--a lovely band much included on your labor mix--sings, where does the time go as a lilting lament, and that's how i feel. because i love being the mommy to a growing, giggly, silly, big biped, and yet my body is already learning to grieve your independence. you need me, but i am no longer your sustenance. in a little less than a year, our relationship transformed from my sustaining your very being, to you walking over to me and begging for a piece of cheese.

if that much can change in one tiny year, what are the rest of our lives going to look like?

you have taught me this year that nothing is static. our life is alive and full of constant movement and change. you are a new you every single day, and as a big boring grownup, i'd forgotten how much wonder there is in that reality. before you came, days and years bled together into a hazy sameness. now? every moment is clearly punctuated with your waking up to the world. i'm waking up again, too.

with you in the world, jude, i am learning to see it from a two-feet-tall perspective, and it sure is big and full of things. i understand your glee at finding yet another burr recently shed from your clemdog's tail. because, wow. what is a burr? and why is it prickly? and does it taste like cheese? (no.)

my beloved daughter, i am proud to know you. you are a kind soul, one who wraps her arms tightly around my neck, and hugs me with wordless i love yous. you kiss every favorite toy, right down to the tennis ball. you meow better than any cat i've ever met. you are the best decision i've ever made.

your auntie sarah wrote a song with the following lyrics about the birth of her little girl, and they ring so true of you:

i love you with bigger love than i knew i had, judith marguerite. happy birthday.

love,
mommy.

pee ess: you've come a long way, baby girl---

11 months.

dear jude,

oh sweet girl, guess what? you turned 11 months nearly two weeks ago. i confess that i haven't gotten anything done in a timely manner this month. all the video and photos i've taken? yeah, they're all still hanging out on memory cards. [note for when you are older, and you giggle at such obsolete technology: a memory card holds the digital files that, at some point, you then upload to your computer.]

the reason for such a long delay in your monthly letter is this: holy hell it's been a busy month. i've started a new position at work, one that keeps later hours than i'd like. later hours means i get to enjoy you in the mornings now, but it also means that i no longer get to give you your nightly bath, or put you to bed. you're handling the change much better than i am, honestly. i miss the constancy of our routine. onward toward creating new routines, though, right? you are teaching me all about adaptiveness.

we traveled to dallas this month. your grandma (ie, my mom) was visiting from pennsylvania, and we all spent a long weekend together at aunt e's house. this meant that you and your cousin carlos got to play again. he now spends much of his time hanging out on your play mat these days, and even offers the occasional sly smile. you adore him. when he whimpered or cooed or cried, you crawled up to him, patted him gently on the head or belly, and offered an enthusiastic kiss. incidentally, you now say *bwah* instead of *mwah* for your kissing sounds. i think you are combining "bye" with your kiss. efficiency, kid. i like it.

anyway, you also loved your grandma. she says that your giggle and your looks are just like me at about your age. let's compare, shall we?

you, kinda zoned:

me, kinda zoned:

yeah, you are definitely my kid.
...but i digress.

so. milestones this month? you now say "hi!" with a whole lot of feeling and nuance. there is the "hi" of happy greeting for your people and pets, and then there is a subtler "hi" given to books and other inanimate objects. OH! you have totally discovered books this month. brown bear and anything featuring elmo are your current favorites. you turn pages for your reader, and often times pay close attention to the words and rhythm of the story. (we read brown bear to the tune of the oompa loompa song.) without fail, you kiss your favorite pages.

another milestone this month was also kind of like the plague. you began to cut your top front teeth. it began with a fever. it escalated into roseola. and then, as the rash went away, you got a cold. the teeth are almost through now, and you're feeling better. your mother have survived. wow. that was rough.

on 9 may--the day before mother's day, thank you--you took three unassisted steps toward me. you repeated the motion several times. omg, i said, my kid can walk, and she's not even 11 months. and then, you stopped doing it altogether. you did this with rolling over too. remember? at 9 weeks, you rolled over. you repeated it enough so we knew it wasn't a fluke. and then you abruptly stopped, and didn't do it again for a few more months. i think this may say something about your personality, but i'm not sure what. does it mean that you are out to prove something to the world? "i CAN walk; i simply choose not to. or are you unimpressed with progress? "meh, walking is boring. i'm going back to my efficient, familiar mode of transport."

...only time will tell. i promise to pay attention to your answer.

love,
mommy
[we have decided that mama h is "mama" and i am "mommy", mostly because we were confusing ourselves.]

pee ess, here are some pics taken by tio al when we were in dallas:

(as your primary photographer, i so rarely show up in photos with you. it's nice to see us together, my love.)