Christmas: The Sequel

It has come to my attention that so far for the months of November and December, I’ve published exactly one post on this blog. And that’s not fair. You, my lovely readers, have invested so much of your time in watching me grow, and how have I repaid you? By ignoring you.

Well, that just won’t do. So today, to make amends, I’ll be publishing a recap of all of my holiday exploits. And on top of that, as a token of appreciation for all of your support over the past 14 months of my life (or all 14 months of my life, as it were), I’m going to make a pledge to you right now: I pledge that I will never again go an entire month without updating this blog. You have my word on this.*

* Unless it’s a slow month. Or I’m feeling particularly lazy. Or there’s a “Freaks and Geeks” marathon on TV.

Anyway, on to Christmas. As you might have remembered, our house was quite the winter wonderland (at least, compared to Mom and Dad's meager standards) for Christmas last year. Mom and Dad put up a tree, stockings, garlands, and all sorts of other decorations to celebrate my first Christmas. So you’d assume that, since I’m so much more aware of my surroundings this time around, they’d try to outdo themselves this year. Uh, not so much. Turns out, since I’m now completely mobile – and incredibly grabby – they elected not to put up a tree or anything this year. I guess they figured it wasn’t worth it to put up decorations that I would just break and/or chew on. They were, of course, 100 percent right.

But that’s not to say we didn’t get into the holiday spirit this year. We just took it on the road. Just like last year, Dad took me down to Alki Beach on Dec. 8 to see the Christmas Ships come sailing by. The following Friday night, we went to the Woodland Park Zoo to check out their Wildlights exhibit:

And on Dec. 18, we went with Mom’s family to Warm Beach for their “Lights of Christmas” light display. We froze our butts off, but it was totally worth it.

For Christmas itself, we were again on the road, spending Dec. 22-24 with Dad’s family in Kennewick, and Christmas Day and the day after with Mom’s family in Redmond. (Mom and Dad have worked out a nice system where we spend Christmas Day with one family one year, and then the other family the next year.) We had a wonderful time, although it was nice to spend the night in our own beds after several nights in guest beds/cribs. That said, foreign cribs can be fun: Here’s a video from Kennewick of Grandpa coming up with a new way to tire me out before bedtime:

There were plenty of other memorable moments from Christmas 2012. Here are some photos from our celebrations.

First, from Kennewick:

I'm quickly learning that it wouldn't be Christmas if Dad doesn't pick out some new pairs of Christmas pajamas for me.

Another Rose family holiday tradition: Lots and lots of eating. This I can get behind.

To answer your question -- yes, opening presents while wearing a pink tutu is just as fun as it looks.

I got into the gift-giving action by giving Grammy and Grandpa a book of all my blog posts from my first year. It's safe to say that it was a hit.

Now, on to Christmas Day in Redmond...

It's Christmas morning, and I'm in a state of wondrous shock at the sight of those presents. In case you were wondering, that's the second pair of Christmas pajamas that Dad bought me this year. He has a problem.

Judging by my expression, I'm apparently unimpressed by the notion of getting fruit for Christmas. You don't win friends with salad.

Looking tough on the Plasma Car that Ya-Ya and Grumps gave me.

I was even nice enough to give my cousin Brooklyn a lift.

Mom and Dad gave my cousin Jackson this astronaut helmet. By the end of the day, I think everybody had tried it on at least once...

...including Brooklyn...

...Ya-Ya...

...Auntie Sarah...

...and Uncle Ben.

Mom and Dad gave me this glockenspiel. I guess they figured, since I bang on enough objects around the house, they may as well cultivate some sort of musical ability.

Uncle Ben teaches me a few notes.

Dad got this awesome poncho, which will be perfect to wear during those late-season WSU blowout losses.

It's even big enough for both him and Mom!

I'm working on writing the Great American Novel entirely on a Magna Doodle.

Everybody pig pile on Mom!

Merry Christmas to all!

So yes, there's definitely something to be said for spending your Christmas on the road. And speaking of being on the road, we never went anywhere throughout December without Dad blaring Christmas music in the car. Thank goodness Christmas is over, because I’m not sure I could’ve taken one more verse of “Feliz Navidad.”

Happy Holidays, everybody! I'll see you in the New Year.

The Walking Redhead

Yes, the rumors are true. I’ve taken the next step (literally and figuratively) on the evolutionary chart. A few weeks ago, I started walking for the first time, and I’m now pretty darn close to perfecting it.

Here’s a quick behind-the-scenes look at my development from quadruped into full-fledged biped.

It started, or course, with me learning to crawl, when I suddenly realized how much more fun life is when you can go anywhere and get your hands into everything:

Next thing you know, I was learning to stand by propping myself up against a wall, chair or other surface:

From there, it progressed with me being able to take baby steps (ah, so that’s where that phrase comes from), as long as somebody was holding me upright:

In early November, I started taking my first steps, although it was never more than a couple at a time, and it usually ended with me falling face-first into something painful.

But now? Well, see for yourself:

If the only thing missing in your life is video of a 13-month-old girl stumbling around like a drunken zombie with no pants on, using a toilet paper roll as a megaphone, then falling and taking a bite out of said toilet paper roll, then, well, you’re welcome.

Based on the final few steps in that video, it’s obvious that I haven’t quite mastered it, but I’m well on my way.

So that’s it, right? I’ve rolled over, I’ve moved to solid foods, I’ve crawled, I’ve transitioned completely from formula to milk, and God knows what other developmental check-offs there are. And now I’m walking upright. There’s nothing left for me to accomplish, right? What’s that? Now I have to start talking? Cripes, you people are so demanding.

Happy Halloween!

Why yes, I do come from a family of nerds. Why do you ask?

Mom and Dad went back and forth a lot in figuring out what to dress me as for Halloween. Dad wanted me to be Jabba the Hutt. Mom wanted me to be Princess Leia in the gold bikini. Turns out neither was feasible (or particularly flattering), so they ended up compromising. I think it was the right decision. Besides, it allowed Mom and me to dress up in complementary costumes.

Tale of the tape: 1 year

As I told you on my birthday, I had my one-year checkup this week. Having gone through this every three months since birth (and actually more often than that, considering I had checkups even more regularly during my first few months), it's become old hat to me. So much so that I now know exactly what will happen before we even get to Dr. Lindsay's office.

Step one: Our nurse Lucy comes in to measure my head and my height, and then she weighs me.
Step two: Dr. Lindsay comes in to look me over, tell me how awesome I am, and listen to my parents' inane questions.
Step three: Lucy comes back in and I get a vaccine or have blood drawn.

Oh, step three. How I hate you. Sometimes it's shots, sometimes it's blood, but either way, sharp metal things are being jabbed into my lovely, pudgy thighs. This time, it was three (three!) vaccines: Hib, MMR and a flu shot. While I'm here, I might as well mention step four: I cry uncontrollably for several minutes and then fall asleep for close to two hours.

Lather, rinse, repeat every 90 days.

Prospective parents and/or babies, this is what you have to look forward to. Anyway, on to the stats.

Birth weight: 7 pounds, 7.6 ounces.

6-month weight: 17 pounds, 6 ounces.

9-month weight: 20 pounds, 3 ounces.
1-year weight: 22 pounds, 8 ounces.

Birth length: 20.25 inches.

6-month height: 26.5 inches.

9-month height: 28.5 inches.
1-year height: 29.5 inches.

Birth head circumference: Not available.

6-month head circumference: 43.5 centimeters.

9-month head circumference: 45.1 centimeters.
1-year head circumference: 46.4 centimeters.

So for those of you keeping score at home (and honestly, why wouldn't you be?), my weight has more than tripled since birth, and I'm nearly 50 percent taller. No wonder I'm having trouble fitting into my old chair.

Happy birthday to me!

Well, friends, the day has come. My first birthday. That's right – it was one year ago today that I joined the real world. It's been a pretty fantastic year for me and, I would assume, my parents. [Editor's note: It has.]

Now, I know I've spent the past year boring you with far too many details from my life (If you're a nice person, this is where you say, "Don't be silly, Eliza, it hasn't been boring at all!"), so today, to celebrate my first birthday, I thought I'd go easy on the text and just concentrate on the visuals.

So here's a trip down memory lane, showing my progress from the day I was born up to today. Enjoy!

20 minutes old

1 day

1 month

2 months

3 months

4 months

5 months

6 months

7 months

8 months

9 months

10 months

11 months

1 year!

Quite a transformation, huh? I go in for my one-year checkup later this week, and I'll report back on just how drastic this transformation has been. In the meantime, feel free to eat some cake in my honor today. Or any day, for that matter. Cake is really good.

15 more years, and I'll be driving a real one!

Bite me

In terms of genetics, I’ve received a lot from my dad. On top of our many shared personality quirks, I also have his blue eyes, his cleft chin, and the same long toes that make us both look like poster children for the theory that humans evolved from apes.

These are all things that I’ve known about – and have come to terms with – for some time now. But a few months ago, I found out that Dad passed another genetic trait to me: the Rose teeth. Turns out, certain members of the Rose family have – and I say this as gently as possible – freakishly large front teeth (Mom calls them Chiclet Teeth).

Dad has them. His brother Jason has them. Their dad (my Grandpa) has them. And now I have them.

Now, it’s not a big deal. In fact, these teeth will probably prove pretty advantageous at some point – I pity the poor corn cob that dares get in the way of my mouth once it’s fully armed and operational. But when you’re just a few months old and those giant hunks of enamel start erupting from your gums, it’s not fun.

Unfortunately for Mom and Dad, I’ve passed that misery on to them, crying like…well, a baby every time a new one started to sprout. Essentially, I’d be in pain for a couple of days as each tooth tried to push through. That meant a few rough nights where I’d wake up and need to be soothed with a cold binky or some other refrigerated chew toy. (Luckily, once they fully break the surface, the pain is much more manageable.) 

Because of those handfuls of sleep-deprived nights, Dad is fond of saying that, considering how awful teething is for parents to deal with, he can’t imagine how tough it is on the kids. He’s exactly right.

As of now, less than a week shy of my first birthday, I’ve got six teeth (four up top, two on the bottom) that have come through completely. But as we speak, there are two more coming through up top, and two more coming through on the bottom. Which means I’m pretty miserable. And, as a special bonus, teething also causes uncontrollable drooling, so not only am I in pain, but I constantly look like I’ve been walking in a monsoon.

So thanks for causing me so much pain, Dad. And you wonder why I bite you every chance I get.