"BA!"

Two of Maisy's favorite words are book and ball.  Whenever she sees one, she expresses herself with one-year-old enthusiasm: "Ba! BA BA BA!"

The giant red concrete balls outside the Target entrance are greeted with "Ba!"

She points at a book on her nursery table: "BA!"

The shining display of oranges at the grocery store earn a frantic "BA BA BA BA BA!!!"

One of my favorite "ba" experiences so far, though, happened Wednesday night.  We got home late from Awana, and Maisy was waaaay overtired.  Attempting to lay her down or even soothe her led to screaming, crying, writhing, and general exhaustion-induced tantrumming.

Rick and I tried the usual tricks - rocking (yeah, right!), reading a bedtime story (just led to sobbing "BAs" whenever we put a book down), checking the diaper, pacing the living room floor, singing, putting on music, just plain leave-the-room distraction - on and on for at least an hour.  

Finally, as I rocked her in the chair in her nursery, she spotted an orange plastic basketball that had rolled under her dresser.  She pointed.  "Ba!!!!!"

So, like any desperate parent, I picked up the toy ball, placed it in Maisy's chubby baby hands, wrapped her up in her blanket, and tucked her in.  When I left the room, Maisy was clutching the hard plastic ball to her chest like any other baby might hold a teddy bear.  

Then, sweet relief.  Maisy drifted off to sleep, to dream of basketballs, exercise balls, ball poppers, and bright displays of grocery store oranges.

"Ba!"

Happy First

I remember holding her for the first time, and how her tiny, perfect features erased all of the chaos and pain and fear of the hours before.  She was just right - pink and crying and beautiful.  My sweet baby.

The first night in that dim hospital room, Rick and I hardly slept.  Every hiccup, every sigh, every whimper was cause to shift and stare, stand and hold our precious girl.

My mom helped me with her first bath at home, a sponge bath on our kitchen table.  We assembled everything - towels, washcloths, baby wash, lotion, diaper, clothes.  I was so careful.  The temperature of the water was triple-checked, each tiny finger given individual attention, her head kept covered and warm as soon as it had been washed.

So many firsts have followed.  The first time we brought her to church.  The first night she slept in her crib.  Her first taste of solid food, first tooth, first walk to the park, first word, first pair of baby jeans, first dip in the lake, first babysitter, first ear infection, first snow, first Christmas, first birthday cake...

I think there must be something special about the first-year firsts.  A year ago this very night, we drove slowly home through dark snowy streets.  We slid her tiny arms into the sleeves of a big yellow blanket sleeper and laid her down to sleep in a bassinet that made her look so very small (and she was!).  First night in her first home.

And here we are: the first year is over.  Maisy is one.  Our little sweetheart is pointing at everything in sight, flipping madly through the pages of books, saying "dada" when she hears the garage door open, voicing her disapproval at being removed from the dog's water dish, bringing a spoon to the same lips that used to make the "kissy face" that we so loved.

I'm not sad, though.  How can I be sad when I think of all the firsts and seconds and thirds yet to come in Maisy's life?  She's growing.  Transforming.  Becoming more independent and vibrant with each passing day.  I'm blessed to be her mommy, to be given this precious baby-girl life with all its incredible, every day firsts.

Happy First, My Maisy.

Love,
Mommy