Letters to Fraser: TWELVE months!

Dear Fraser,

I'm so late in writing this post because I'm in denial. How was it one whole year ago when you joined our family? You barreled into the world, and you've been quite a firecracker since.

It took so many weeks before I actually wanted to put you down. I just wanted to hold you and savor every minute, knowing nothing would ever be like that again. I still sort of feel that way. We haven't been apart for more than eight hours, and even that is the longest, I think. I just love having you in my life. In our lives. You are our ray of sunshine in the morning (still the very early morning--you don't seem to want to sleep in...ever), and you're our comedy show every night around bath time.

You're still not walking yet, but your army crawl is a distant memory, and you can waddle around with your little cart. You like to hang out on the windowsill in the dining area, and of course get into every drawer, dog bowl, and stack of books or laundry sitting out.

I had a nice long letter written, and half of it disappeared, and well, that's the story of my life it seems.

Highlights from months 11-12 included:
- Your standing up and motoring around from electrical outlet to electrical outlet, always looking for some sort of mischief.
- Our trip to Sunriver with our good friends the McFarlings. You absolutely loved watching and "playing" with Monroe, who is 2.5.
- A quick hike on the Pacific Crest Trail on our way home from Bend.
- Your first trip to the zoo with your friend Reagan and expert zoo-goer, Audrey.
- Linfield football homecoming...go Cats!
- More playing in the dirt and feeding the chickens at Luscher Farm.
- Your first real sickness and ear infection (not a highlight, but I thought I'd note it here).
- A cousin playdate on your birthday and a birthday brunch with all of your family to celebrate the big 1.

Shortly after your birthday, we headed east to the Wallowa mountains and to mom's alma mater, WSU, for homecoming. You were a champ the whole way, a great road warrior, hiker, and trip companion.

Fraser Mary, you are our little babbling ball of joy. Thank you for the best year of our lives. Just as they say, it went by in a blink, and I am anxious to see how our lives continue to change for the better because of you.

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: Eleven months

Dear Fraser,

Here we are at 11 months, and I am feeling all the feels, as they say.

I remember this time last year so vividly. The anticipation of your arrival. The changing seasons. Saying goodbye to work and hello to the unknown.

I'm so emotional thinking back to each previous month, wondering how we got there, and now we are here, less than a month from your big first birthday.

You're just getting over every possible ailment, which seemed to come all at once. In the last week, you had a fever, your first cough and cold, and more teeth trying to emerge. You poor little bug. Most of the days you were still your jolly self, and of course I still took you to roll around in the dirt up at the farm and also to a gym class. You're such a little busy body, and you loved every minute of the play, but I should have known better.

You're not walking yet, but your army crawl has advanced to a "big girl crawl" as we call it, but you're a heck of a lot faster doing that army crawl. And why are you so attracted to electrical outlets and cords and pretty much everything that should be put away? Yesterday I caught you on the fireplace hearth just jingling around the fireplace tools. Totally safe, right?

You are a chatty little lady, and you're very opinionated. I think we might be out of the woods on your screaming phase (fingers crossed). Boy was that embarrassing...we'd just be meandering through a shop and you'd blurt out this high-pitched scream. No thank you, Fraser.

Highlights from this last month include (but are not limited to!):

• Not that you'll remember it, but--you got to see the solar eclipse (a once in a lifetime opportunity, my dear, and quite amazing!).
• You continued your Thursday night daddy-and-me urban hike ritual.
• We got your hair in your first ponytail, and we realized how much you look like your Auntie Whitney when she was a baby. 
• Mealtime became somewhat of a rollercoaster as the things you like turned to the things you threw off your high chair tray first. You still continue to wolf down scrambled eggs and a whole banana every morning (thank goodness!). 
• We went camping again at the coast (I probably won't forget this trip, as you tried out your new carseat and proceeded to have your first diarrhea accident forcing a side-of-the-road wipe down...but we recovered, and we had a great time with your friend Reagan and family).
• We tried to soak up every last minute of sunshine and summer...not that we won't be out in full force in the rain, but still. 
• You really, really loved Garden Babies at the farm in our area. 
• You continue to really, really love the musical lap time program at the library, though you are far from wanting to sit nicely in my lap anymore! :-/
• You gave up your pacifier after our Sunriver trip. 
• You grew out of your baby bathtub. 
• You might as well be packing up for college. 
• Oh, and another thing I won't forget is when I took you to my first moms group of the season, and you wouldn't stay in the childcare. An hour of crying, and they decided to call me back to comfort you. I'm sorry, baby. I think you were teething at the time. You're not usually such a clinger. 
• And on a terribly sad note, we lost your great-grandma, Ebie. I can't even begin to write about this right now, as Ebie was a one-of-a-kind lady, and she loved you dearly. You're a lucky baby that you got to meet three of your great-grandmas. I have no doubt Ebie will be your angel in heaven, along with great-grandma Mary (your middle namesake). And I'm not saying that you'll for sure play sports, but if you do, Ebie will be your biggest fan and know all of your stats up there in heaven. 

We're having a harvest themed first birthday for you...selfishly because I love pumpkins and fall decorations. And everyone keeps asking me what you're going to be for Halloween. I guess putting you in six different costumes when you were less than three weeks old somehow implies that I'm going to go big every year? It's still TBD at this point.

I love you so much, Fraser. SO so much. I still can't believe you're ours.

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: Ten months

Dear Fraser,

Yesterday I felt a crispness in the morning air--autumn is on the horizon. And just as summer always does, it crept it, then stepped on the gas, and zoomed right on by. We're in our last few weeks of summertime bliss. Seasons of change.

You're just two months away from turning one whole year old. How did we get here?

Now that you're on the move, every day is challenging. Some days I joke how much easier it would be to go off to work and have someone else follow you around, ensuring you don't stick your fingers in the non-baby-proofed electrical sockets, splash your hands in the dog's water bowl, and pick up every stale crumb off the hastily mopped kitchen floor. And let's not even talk about your obsession with cords!

But every day you amaze me, and I feel so fortunate I can be with you every morning, afternoon, and evening. I still can't believe you're my baby.

You continue to light up the room, the grocery store, the swimming pool, or just about anywhere I take you. I love that you smile almost always on command, and there have been only three times when the sight of someone unfamiliar has caused tears. Your dad continues to say just how social you are. I love it.

You've been quite the adventure baby. You've already been hiking several times, and being in the great outdoors continues to be our calming mechanism for you. We took you on your first camping trip in our "vacation home," as Dad likes to call it--a great big tent above his truck. You slept better in that thing than you do at home, which is quite incredible because you are a good sleeper. You're still just waking up earlier than I'd like.

You're eating most things we put in front of you, with banana, eggs, watermelon, and corn on the cob being your personal favorites. Let's talk about this corn for a minute. I had been cutting the kernels off the cob when I wondered what would happen if I gave you the whole cob. One hour and 15 minutes later, you were still as content as could be in your high chair, gnawing on that cob. I realized it was the best teether on the planet and have been using this time-sucking distraction device sparingly.

We've spent a lot of time with family this past month, which has been great for all of us. Uncle Joe, Auntie Sara, and your cousin Audrey welcomed sweet baby Claire last month. She's just one of the girls now, and I have a feeling watching you three little ladies grow up here in Portland will be very entertaining. Your cousins from California came up twice, with our big Benz family gathering taking place over Nana B's birthday weekend (more on that another time). And we found our your auntie Whitney is going to have a baby of her own next year--your first cousin on Dad's side!

I continue to think you probably like the same things most other babies your age do, but I now know your love of water might be a bit more excessive than the norm. You and I have been taking swim lessons together the last couple weeks, and you have no fear. You've been dunked in our lake here in town, Elk Lake, and the Deschutes River, proving the temperature holds no bearing on your enjoyment. One point of particular hilarity is how mellow you are in a floating device. Whether it's Phyllis the flamingo floatie or a raft built for two, the moment you're on your own just bobbing along in the water, you're 100% content.

Your smile and your look sure have changed over the last month, with the addition of your four teeth, especially those top two buck teeth with the big ol' gap in the middle. You're babbling a lot, saying "dee-dee" every time we see a dog on a walk, "nana" when it's banana time in the morning (and a bonus for both your grandmas who go by "Nana"), and "shut," when you close the closet door. Oh and of course you say "dada" even though I don't think you realize what you're saying.

I wish I could slow down time, but it's true that each new phase brings such excitement. You're definitely not my little baby anymore. We see these glimpses of who you are and what you'll become. Strangers continue to note how you're "never not moving," and your legs are just always flailing around. Neighbors continue to note how vocal you are--including the volume of your screams. Once you get a bit older we're going to have to work on that "indoor voice." And our family knows just how special you are, a real firecracker already. Never would I use the word "mellow" to describe you (unless you're in a floating device as noted above). Of course we're biased, but you have a big personality already, little lady.

Thanks for being a great sleeper and only waking up when something is really bothering you (ahem, teeth). And thanks for giving mom a break with really good naps from time to time (note: certainly not always). And a really big thank you for liking the stroller and not minding the car seat too much. I hear horror stories all the time, and since running and walking are my salvation, I really appreciate that you don't mind the rides. Thanks for enjoying the kitchen basting brush and spatula more than real toys, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped your fascination with touching the oven sometime soon.

This post must come to a close because it's 6:07, and you're awake. Hey, at least we're getting past the 5 o'clock hour, right?!

I love you very much, Fraser Mary. You are one of a kind.

Love,
Mom