So it turns out I’m really bad at these baby updates (though I feel strongly about writing them, I think it is a testament to the fact that this blog is mostly an outlet for my developmental process rather than hers). But since she’s not even two and certain memories are already hazy, I wanted to go back and finish this post I started months and months ago.
20 pounds, 7 ounces (she was 18 pounds, 5 ounces at 9 months)
27.75 inches (she was 26.25 inches at 9 months)
From 9 months to 12 months, she stayed in the 40th percentile for weight but she inched her way up to the 13th percentile for height (from the 11th). Way to go, baby!
It’s kind of crazy to think that we ever talked about her cankles. She’s thinned out so much, I can barely remember the glory of her fat-roll days. Gone are the height and weight-related nicknames (Shrimp, Rudy McCankles, etc.). Now Neal most often calls her Scabies and Monkey Bones, while I usually call her Sneaky Trickerson or Sweetness, depending on (surprise!) whether she’s being sneaky or sweet.
At 12 months, it was all about walking. Neal mentioned it in his guest post, that on her first birthday she strung together 8 steps to reach him — and really, she never looked back. She had a few weeks of drunk walking, but by 14 months, she was full on sprinting. And I haven’t caught up since . . .
Her verbal repertoire was also growing, though she still relied on her expressive mannerisms, gestures, and facial expressions for a lot of her communication. I did manage to keep this partial list of the words/sounds she was consistently making at the one-year mark (usage notes or pronunciation in parentheses):
- dog barking
- annoying laughs (not that they were actually annoying to us, but we were trying to get her to mimic annoying sounds a la “the most annoying sound in the world” from Dumb and Dumber — she was pretty good too)
- douche (she used this one A LOT for a host of things, including her parents and Jesus — should I admit that?)
- dog (pronounced: “do”)
- kitty (screamed)
- strawberries (pronounced: “baba”)
- apple (pronounced: “ba pa”)
- no (she got MUCH better at this one over the next several months; now it is definitely one of her greatest hits, but mostly like this now: “NO, NO, NO!”)
- keys (pronounced: “e”)
- teeth (pronounced: “tee”)
- baby (this sounded the most like the actual word)
- glasses (minus the gl — oops!)
- more (pronounced: “mom”)
- Grandpa (pronounced: “bah pa”)
- cheese (pronounced: “hee”)
- cup (pronounced: “up”)
- MINE! (it was always exclaimed)
Two anecdotes from that time period that I never posted but actually recorded:
We’re all about dental hygiene around here, so we started with the teeth brushing as soon as Addison had teeth. She got into quite a routine with it — a freaking weird routine. When Neal says, “Ready to brush your teeth?” Addison says, “Ah,” turns to the mirror, and licks her reflection. It’s the only time she does that. Ever.
By the time Addison was in that 14-month-old, running-everywhere mode, church was getting to be quite a headache. Sometimes if I got to Relief Society late, the only seats left were in the very front, which meant my failure to keep up with her was on full display. She would be in people’s purses (she’s all about the touch-screen phones; I’m pretty sure more than one sister was horrified to see her iPhone/iPad in Addison’s hot, little hands), other kids’ boxes of Teddy Grahams, and running up the aisles before I knew what hit me. But this one particular day really took the cake. We were sitting at the front when Addison bolted away, up the aisle, and straight out of the room. But when I followed her path out, she was nowhere to be seen. I quickly looked down all three nearby hallways and couldn’t find her. Thinking she must still be in the Relief Society room, I walked back in and looked around. Still no sight of her. I asked a friend sitting by the door where she went and she said she went into the hallway, but when I went back out, I still couldn’t see her.
At this point, I was getting worried. There was an outside door nearby; surely she was not strong enough to get it open on her own, but maybe someone walked in at the wrong moment. When I started walking toward the door, I finally caught a glimpse of her — sitting completely still in a corner with her arms at her sides, as if she was a statue. When our eyes met, she started laughing like she was the funniest person that ever lived. The whole experience was shocking for me on so many levels: How could she run so fast? How could she find such a great hiding spot so quickly? How could she hold so perfectly still for at least two or three minutes when in most of our daily life, she couldn’t do it for three seconds??? There’s a reason she earned the name Sneaky Trickerson so early in life!
And for sticking with me through all that, even though it’s hopelessly late, you get some pictures. Can you believe I didn’t manage to take a single picture on her actual first birthday? (If that’s not coming up in therapy in 20 years, I don’t know what is . . .)
But I did capture some shots of her day-after-birthday lollipop, courtesy of Grandpa and Grandma Horton. Since we were pretty strict about sweets, my sweet-toothed Grandpa waited a long time for this moment!
A few days after Addison’s birthday, my friend Kirsten came to stay while Neal went on a business trip and we made Kirst’s favorite dessert — lemon jello cheesecake. We pretended that we made the cheesecake for Addison’s birthday and got the obligatory messy-baby photos:
I took a bunch of video in between these shots that somewhat explains the transition to messiness below (spoiler alert: she was assisted by her mom). But the videos are too long to upload in a reasonable amount of time, and shot sideways with no hope of turning them (I’m an amateur), and in the background I’m talking to/berating Neal about wasting time on his business trip (you can’t hear Neal’s responses, but at one point I say, “What do mean by ‘doing nothing’?”), so no video here.
Addison wasn’t that in to the dessert — she maybe took two licks — but that meant more for us. Cute pictures/video + more dessert for the grown-ups = success!
And if you’re still with me, you get my second video posting ever. Some of her early walking, taken the day after her birthday:
That’s it for one-year-old Addison.