Aaaaaargh! Sophie is teething, and she keeps nipping me when she nurses now. Hurts like hell. I have tried all the tricks to get her to stop, but so far nothing is working. I hope this phase passes because it's making me fear nursing, something that used to be my favorite part of the day. She knows what she's doing, too, because she smiles every time. Apparently she thinks my yelp of pain is part of a fun game.

Since the day of Jamie's graduation party, all I've wanted was one of those cheap, small, hard-plastic wade pools. I asked Ron to pick one up for the party, but he came home with an enormous blow-up thing which was not easy or small or anything resembling what I desired. We already have a normal, full-size pool, so I just wanted something easy to fill and empty, that was small enough to sit on the back patio, and was sturdy enough to last the summer. In short, I just wanted a simple wade pool. Anyway, skip ahead a few weeks -- we are back from the White Mountains and it's a hot day and everyone is tired and cranky so I decide maybe today would be a good day to get that little wade pool I had been wanting. The problem is, it won't fit in my tiny car. So I call my nephew and ask him to pick one up for me -- I describe it exactly as I did above, and he obliges, dropping off a large, rolled up, flimsy plastic thing that is still not what I desired. It was a kind of him to help, but I remained unsatisfied. So I make the best of it.

Here is what he bought me.

And here is what it looks like when a woman holding a baby tries to assemble it on a scorching hot day.

Nailed it!

At least Sophie loved it. She splashed and crawled around to her heart's content and in general had a blast. Observing her great enjoyment made all the day's frustrations fade away.

Looks like I have a little water baby!

And now, after all that activity, I have a little sleepy baby. Goodnight, sweetheart. Can't wait to see what mischief we can get into tomorrow.

Sophie is nine months old. I am smitten with that kid. Just when I think it's impossible to love her any more, I do. I continue to be amazed by her development. I missed all of this with Jamie and most of it with Carina because I came into the picture when J was about 4 and C was six months, and we didn't get full and complete custody until Jamie was 10 and Carina was 6.

Every day with Sophie is a new adventure. But, paradoxically, it's also like groundhog day. Our schedule is pretty routine as far as her naps, feedings, and bedtime. The stuff in between varies a bit, but mostly we have a pretty regular schedule. It can feel like the same day, over and over again, until suddenly she does something I find amazing and we celebrate a new stage of development and everything is new and exciting again.

Last night she started turning pages for me when I was reading to her. It was difficult to contain my excitement, but I am trying not to over praise so that she doesn't come to depend on it to feel good about what she does as she grows older. Yesterday she also showed me how she can get off the bed the right way (feet first). And we are pretty sure at least some of her "mamas" are purposeful. She seems to know that is me. And this is the sort of thing that makes my heart skip a beat. We swoon with each new development, get butterflies with every giggle, all while eagerly anticipating each next step. I love every bit of it.

But there are hard parts too. When she developed a fever and then a terrible rash last week I was consumed with worry. Again I had to welcome that feeling in and get accustomed to its company because this is a lifetime thing and you never stop fearing for your child's safety and praying for your child to always find health, happiness and love.

And so it is.

Sophie has a fever. She threw up what looked to me like gallons last night. I haven't slept since 3a.m. The odd thing is, Sophie doesn't seem to be aware that she is sick. She is playing and babbling and fighting nap time like always. She even stood up for the first time without holding on to anything! I think this means her immune system is working as it should and her bug is not too serious.

We are going to Bisbee tonight for the Relay For Life (providing Sophie remains in good spirits). Sophie and I will park it at my mom's, where hopefully we will both be fawned over and spoiled. The rest of the family will enjoy the Relay while running our photo booth fundraiser. Below is a photo preview of the fun that will be had!

Sophie is beating the shit out of this funny little rattle ball right now. It's cracking me up. Her favorite activities these days are banging things together, picking up things she ought not, trying to shove said things in her mouth, and screeching like a banshee. I love all of it.

But today I'm exhausted. Sophie doesn't think that should mean she can't wriggle, crawl and in general create shenanigans though, so here is hoping for an early bedtime.

Oh hi. Yesterday I turned 8 months old. I'm learning to eat solids. My favorites are carrots and sweet potatoes. Lucy is a dog, I think. She's funny. I like to feel her fur and whiskers and eyeball. I can make so many noises! You should hear them. Mom says I'm going to be walking soon. I can crawl really fast and I stand up at every chance I get. Also, I can walk when I hold on to stuff. So she's probably right. My favorite toys are some stacking cups and pretty much anything within arm's reach that looks fun. I still find grass to be weird but I love water!
Okay, see you later. Bye bye!

Sophie had a rough night last night. I suspect it was something I ate. She woke crying several times, that sad, terrible cry that makes you pop wide awake. She rarely does this anymore, so I'm fairly certain it had something to do with that huge piece of nasty cake I ate. Today's gonna be rough though.

I can't believe that tomorrow she will be eight months. I swear she will be walking soon. She seems determined. I was walking at nine months, and I understand these things are genetic, so she might very well be walking within the month. I'm going to be a busy mother, I think.

I adore her every noise. Her monster growls. Her screeches. Her high pitched squeals. Her voice experimentation and modulations. Love it all. And although I understand this drives most parents batty, I'm even looking forward to the ”why” stage!

I can't believe how she grows. She now pulls herself up on anything and everything, clearly proud of herself. She crawls quickly and stands confidently and her laugh has been known to melt an entire household in mere seconds. She is becoming aware that she can *do* things and watching her do these things can keep me mesmerized for hours. Sometimes I look at her and just can't believe my eyes. She is my daughter. Holy crap.

When she was a newborn (or, as I like to say, when she was little) people would say she looked like me, or like Ron. I would sometimes gaze down at her and be amazed to see my tiny self, the one from pictures, gazing back. Every now and then she would give me a certain expression and I would startle at how it resembled my dad. All of this was fun, amazing, insanely beautiful, but it is changing now. These days, although it is clear she is my daughter, I must say that when I see her I do not see a mini-me or a half-Jamie or a small Ron. I see a Sophie. She is definitely herself, and I definitely love her with every molecule of my being.

She is also a miracle.

I can't say that I dreamed of having a baby since I was very little because that would be a lie. I wasn't that sort of child. I could not have cared less about future weddings or future families. I had something like universal vision and thought mostly of big picture stuff. I devoured books. I wanted to make poor people less poor and sick people well. I raged against military recruiters in rural schools. I hated Disney.

Don't get me wrong, I had important relationships and was far from a hermit, but I was not exactly mainstream either. My point is, I hadn't given much thought to marriage or children, except to say that I was pretty sure if I decided to enter the antiquated ritual of marriage I would keep my own name.

Ah, young ideals.

Anyway, then I settled down, fell in love, got married, all that wonderful stuff. My husband came with two beautiful daughters who I adopted as my own without hesitation. And we decided to have a child of our own. So we tried. And tried. And tried. Almost a decade later, I gave up. A hundred negative pregnancy tests later, I gave up. Tests, tears, hope and then much despair later, I gave up. And after I gave up, began to close that chapter and look to the next, I became pregnant.

Which proves that even when one loses hope, miracles can still happen. It's true. I watch one every morning as I sit sipping my coffee with a satisfied, grateful grin on my face and absolute wonderment that it could all be real.

Sophie is just over seven months now. If it's possible for the time to have gone simultaneously slow and fast, then it did. Seems like only yesterday or maybe years ago that she was a little larval human, basically immobile, jerky, wailing. Now she pulls herself up on anything and everything while roaring in one of her favorite baby dialects. Her two bottom front teeth are beginning to come in, but so far this doesn't seem to bother her much. She seems much more troubled by the fact that she can't yet return to a sitting or crawling position from standing. This *really* pisses her off.

I am still overwhelmed by the amount of information concerning child-rearing that exists out there for anyone even halfway interested in learning. I'm sure parents even a generation ago where not as swamped with contradictory evidence about what is best for babies and children in general. I'm not sure what is worse, following the advice of Dr. Spock, or hearing the advice of thirty such doctors, all who claim to have the answer. I still mostly follow my gut, and pick and choose out of the wealth of information that which makes the most sense to me.

Although there is a school of thought that preaches against it, we still co-sleep, and so far it is working well for us. Most days we are all as well rested as one with an infant can be. I have been exclusively breastfeeding, although now we are beginning to introduce solids (mostly sweet potatoes, carrots and other orange veggies). We sometimes use cloth diapers, sometimes disposable, depending on what activities the week holds. Disposable has been winning lately. We are doing vaccinations, even though I wonder about the sheer number of them these days. Despite that concern, the fact that she doesn't have to fear polio is pretty convincing to me about their effectiveness. I find both Waldorf and Montessori education techniques appealing, although there are some fairly big differences when it comes to reading and mathematics. I'm also considering homeschooling, but I don't know if we will be able to afford for me to be out of work for eighteen years. I have not completely ruled out public school, but it is low on the list right now. All I know is whatever educational approach I choose, I need to stick with it for the long haul in order for it to be effective and for Sophie to avoid the stress of extreme culture shock.

Anyway, I document this mostly for Sophie's benefit, so she'll have some idea of what it was like for her family in her early years -- the joys and struggles we faced. These are the choices I struggle with now. I'm sure it was different for my parents and I'm sure it will be different for her. But it's the progression of things these days, in the US, in 2012. For me. (I suppose there are many parents who don't struggle with these particular concerns. Maybe it's just my questioning, need-to-know nature.)

Whatever. She grows healthy and strong and I'm the happiest I've ever been, I believe. Our house overflows with love. Even with texting, eye-rolling teenagers! I call that a good start.

Sophie loves to make noises. From her mouth, testing her voice, and in any other way she is able. She loves to scrape her fingernails on different surfaces to see the sound it makes, and she shakes every object she picks up to see if it makes noise. She loves banging things together, and is quite pleased with herself when she gets a strong sound going from something.

She remains fascinated by Lucy, who is very patient with her. Lucy is truly a remarkable dog. She allows Sophie to explore her fur, ears, nose and paws and doesn't move except to lick Sophie's forehead or sniff her face. Eliana is also patient but seems to enjoy taunting Sophie with her flicking tail. Sophie is really peeved by Eliana's tail, and most times if she sees Eliana's tail flicking anywhere near her, she yells at it and puts up a rather noisy fuss until I move her or the cat. It's adorable, really.

Sophie woke up at 4am crying (I suspect she was a smidge gassy and uncomfortable) so we are both going to be tired today. Hopefully we can squeeze in a longer than usual nap. I'm still finishing up Festival stuff but, God willing, I should be done, completely done, by the end of the week. After that, Sophie and I are going to take a week's vacation down to Bisbee to visit my mom and some friends. Bobbi and Maggie will be there, and I'm extremely excited for Sophie and Maggie to meet. Plus, I can't wait to snuggle that Maggie! I've seen so many photos of her, I feel I know her. (Bobbi is one of my best friends from High School, and she had her baby exactly two months before I had Sophie. We have really re-bonded over babies and birthing, and I am very grateful to have them both in my life.)

Here's hoping a long nap is in my not-distant future!