Baby girl turned one yesterday.
That was seriously the fastest, and longest, year of my life. I’m not going to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. Not in any way. Having four kids was way harder than I thought it would be, and I blame that almost entirely on the fourth child, who is constantly on the go, throws epic tantrums over diaper changes, gets into everything, picks on her brothers, and of course can’t do anything for herself! I basically haven’t left the house in the last year, it feels like.
But this baby also has the sweetest, darkest eyes; the biggest gap-toothy-est smile; a great sense of adventure (and mischief); an intense love of being chased (and chasing); and the best little belly laugh around. She’s a girl who knows what she wants, and no one’s going to say that’s a bad thing.
She’s pretty smart, too. She tries to put on her own socks and shoes (Ben just barely learned this skill, and he’s almost 5). She loves hair accessories. Anything that can go on her head, should.
If she needs to get somewhere, she’s gonna get there. She’s been crawling for so long and she’s so fast at it, I don’t think she realizes that she should try to walk. She tries to climb now, and she has no qualms about getting off of couches or beds on her own.
She loves her brothers so much. If you ask her where they are, she is looking for them right away. When she sees them, her little face just lights right up. They chase her around, she chases them around. They all wrestle together, and she is not intimidated by them at all. Oliver is often crying because “Ivy’s ‘macking me!” or “Ivy pushed me!” She’s not going to let those big brothers hold her back or get in her way.
Also, strange but true, she loves gagging herself. She does it a lot, and has even made herself throw up a few times. She seems to think it’s really funny. Hopefully this will be a very short-lived phase. I don’t need a bulimic toddler on my hands.
She’s still so small. Still wearing that onesie that I’ve been taking her monthly picture in since she was only 2 or 3 months old. (That thing’s pretty stretchy, though, to be fair.) I sat her on the scale yesterday and she came in at around 17 1/2 pounds. I think that’s about 3-4 pounds smaller than all of her brothers were when they turned one. Clothes last forever with her. Too long, really. I’m tired of some of them already!
She sleeps pretty good, finally. Usually through the night, but sometimes she is up a lot earlier than I want to be. 6:30am is so much more acceptable than 6:00am, in my opinion. She still loves her baths, and now crawls her little hiney to the bathtub as fast as she can as soon as she even hears the word bath. It’s pretty darn cute.
She loves her “gigi” too. She started referring to it as her “deedee”, which is pretty darn sweet, as well as one of the few words she says. Others include: dada, mama (sometimes!), and dis (i’m pretty sure she’s saying “this?”). She’s just started pointing and really reaching for us when she see us, too. She’s a champ at standing, and can crouch right down and stand right back up on her own, but has never taken even a small step. She prefers to just fling herself at you instead of actually try to walk.
So, that’s our little one year old. We sure do love her, and I’m sure one day we’ll laugh about how changing her diaper can practically ruin her entire day, and I’m sure we’ll look back on the days when we had a baby in the house and miss it, even if we’re currently wishing we could sometimes rush them by.
Happy 12 months Ivy. You’re sweet.