10 Months...

10 months. I keep repeating that to myself. Sometimes the phrase ends in a question mark, sometimes in an exclamation point, but most often it fades in a trail of dot-dot-dots as I try to total up the moments I've had with BB and make them add up to ten entire months.

I am just as astounded that I have been a mother for ten months as I am that BB has been out in the world for that amount of time. I still feel like such a rookie mom sometimes. Still unsure, wondering if all the other moms are looking at me and thinking I am too fill-in-the-blank, which makes me feel defensive. Just sometimes.

At 10 months old, BB is scaling entire rooms on foot, going on playdates, and turning into a climber (as evidenced by him sticking his foot in the baby gate holes and crawling across J to hoist himself onto the couch). He both developed and got over a fear of baths in a 2-week period. He is very nearly self-weaned, only nursing in the morning and maybe once throughout the day (which is mama-initiated, but this is all a long-overdue post in and of itself). He went on his first swing at the park, has two can't-miss-'em shiny white bottom teeth, and is more active than ever (in the church nursery all the babies sit in the middle of the floor and pass toys while BB traverses from one corner of the room to the other).

Here he is on a playdate with E:

And on his first ever swing at the park:

Note the death grip on the swing. As compared to E's more freewheeling approach:

I guess I found something he exercises some caution with!

Happy 10 Months.