Sunday, 13 September 2009
Deuxieme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise
You have survived another month with your father and me. You are smiling more and you even grace us with the occasional laugh. Though I wouldn't call you a smiley baby. You seem to put thought into your smiles and have a refined palate for what you find humorous - not one to give a goofy grin just to please those around you, we need to earn those perfectly upturned little lips. How tres French of you.
Speaking of perfect lips, you have quickly mastered the pout, and I swear these past few days you have been pouting with purpose, aware of the effect your little down turned mouth has. Here's a little tip kid, that pout is going to work a hell of a lot better on your father than me. In fact your father is physically unable to turn his lips downwards, so its no surprise that you inherited this from me. I am a master pouter. Use this pout wisely my child, for it is a powerful tool when used correctly. In fact, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for my pout.
Your repertoire of noises has trebled over the past few weeks. Little girl sighs, squeals, coos. You have also developed a new cry. While the first cries you made were instinctual and based on your needs for survival, this new cry has you actively using your vocal chords to express a want. You will cry because you need to be fed or need to be changed, but now you can also cry because you want to sleep with me and not alone or because you want to see what's going on in a different room. I was hoping for another month before this level of manipulation took place, but I'm glad to see that you're learning to let the world know what you want, not just what you need.
Your father has started repeating the noises you make and you guys are able to hold a conversation together. He apologizes if he's saying anything offensive since we were never given a French-Baby dictionary, but you seem to enjoy your little chats with him so I don't think he's saying anything too controversial.
Sometimes I forget that you are a baby. You seem so wise and so aware that I am sure that you will have more to teach me than I you. I have known for a long time that I wanted to be a mother. Since I was probably 12 or younger I would imagine what my children would be like, their dark hair and blue eyes. I would have make-believe conversations with them. Imagining how they would make me laugh, how I would tell them off when they were naughty, the games we would play. The kids in my mind were smart and funny and with an acute awareness of the world around them.
Eloise, in the two months that you have been living with me you have proved to be so much better than I ever could have imagined. I can never thank you enough for not only making me a mother, but making me your mother and I only hope that by the end of it all I will have lived up to your dreams too.
Eloise has moved up in the rankings since her first month