Dear Eliza, Ten Months Old

Today, you're crawling. Tomorrow, you'll be driving. I'm sure of it. You're embracing each new capability of independence to explore your little world. 

The crawl started with cute, little, disconnected scoots with a motivation to get closer to books. Now you chase after everything you see and want. You follow me, your Mom and Greta around the house. Your Mom makes sure that you're wearing pants to save your knees from the hardwood floors, but they're getting tough anyway. You're like a honey badger. Honey badger doesn't care about her knees. Honey badger crawls where she wants.

Honey badger is scared of the giant, green yoga ball though.

For some reason, you decided that you are fearful of the same yoga ball that your Mom bounced you on when you were a little baby. You've probably seen the ball about every day of your life, but suddenly you've decided the ball is the scariest thing ever created. Maybe you took a soft, rubbery bump on the head when we weren't looking and that scared you straight from yoga balls. 

I have to admit, I kind of love the "scary" game. You crawl quickly to me when you see the ball and hold on tight to my shirt to make sure you don't move toward it. You'll reach out to point at the ball and mumble some jibberish to tell me all about the ball and what's wrong with it. You'll get brave and touch the ball when I'm holding you, but not without a reaction to crawl quickly up my shoulders trying to reach a high point, like a cat up a telephone pole. 

If you are fearful of taking yoga classes as an adult, we'll all know the deep-seeded reason why. 

You're also trying to stand a lot more often. Maybe motivated to learn how to get away from the yoga ball more quickly? Just last week, I found you standing in your crib, bracing the jail bars. It took me by surprise. You looked so big! I am smiling as I type this. It's strange what strikes you as a parent as a "whoa" moment. That was one of them. You looked at me like, "Oh hey, Dad. Good morning. Want to go for a run?"

I am enjoying our little conversations. In addition to "mom" and "dada," you can also say "puppy" and "baby." Good job! Of course, you tend to repeat these words over and over, but I think I am getting your points. For example, when I find you in the morning standing in your crib and you repeat, "puppy" over and over, I know it means, "Dad, Greta is under my bed again. I think she had a bad dream so she came in at 2 a.m. to hide. I told her everything is OK." Such a smart girl. 

You also have a weird, night-vision superpower. When you get bored in the crib at night, we can see you in the monitor playing a game where you find your Wubbanub pacifiers in the dark, throw them in the air and find them again. You crawl around the crib playing this game for several minutes at a time. Oh, and your ability to throw is really impressive. You may follow your Mom's college softball athletic path. I'll start calling recruiters. That throwing arm plus your smarts are a recruiter's dream.

The past month had its share of adventure. We took you to Cougar Mountain Zoo. Strangely enough, we haven't gone to nearby Point Defiance yet. Much like the yoga ball, you were scared of the animal statues decorating the park, but not the real animals themselves. The zoo was really impressive. We got to see cougars and tigers, and you were close enough to the llamas to have them lick you. 

We spent some more time at the Chaffee beach house, and I put you on a paddleboard for the first time. We had to stay close to the shore because we didn't have a proper life jacket for you, but you stayed in place and didn't get too brave. It's funny to think that you must perceive the YMCA pool to be huge, so a little corner of Puget Sound must feel like the entire ocean. 

You got to see a lot of family this past month. Your Nonno is always good about stopping by the house to play with you. Your Grandma Vicki is always asking to come over after work. We saw your Aunt Nina and cousin Harrison a couple of times, too. The first time was an ill-fated camping attempt in Bellingham. We couldn't get a camp spot, but made the most out of it hiking up to Fragrance Lake and spending time at Larrabee State Park and Lake Padden -- all my old college haunts! I never thought back then that I'd come back to those places with a daughter in a backpack. Twenty-something me gave thirty-something me a high five followed by a concerned, double-take at the sight of future hairline recession. 

You saw Aunt Nina and Harrison again back at our house. I had a work trip at Summer Outdoor Retailer in Salt Lake City for half a week and your Uncle Jeff went to Oklahoma to see his brother play soccer, so your Mom and Aunt Nina hung out. Aunt Nina also came down to Tacoma to get a new tattoo on her thigh. Aunt Nina has many tattoos and learned the hard way to find a good artist and stick to him or her. If you decide to be like your Dad and get a tattoo one day, just make sure to be smart about the placement and use a good artist. Please. If you decide to be like your Mom and leave ink off your body, all the better. Let's talk about it when the time comes.

People tend to get nervous about tattoos because of their permanence. But what's really permanent? The tattoos on my body will be gone long before this digital letter, which will likely outlive you and me. It's easy to think cosmetically about a bad haircut, body shape or skin blemishes being burdens of the day, but then forget to recycle or put more carbon emissions in the world on a commute and realize those are the real problems at hand. My failures to address those are what burden you in the big picture, not the shade of green ink on my shoulder that I wish came out darker. 

The only things that have permanence are what we create and build. Make time to create great things and don't waste your time on work that doesn't make you or a bigger community happier. That will be your legacy and mark on this place. Imagine my joy that one of my legacies is you. 

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, Nine Months Old

Dear Eliza, 

You've now spent almost as much time out in the world as you did baking in your Mom's tummy. I think you agree it's a lot more fun out here. 

This past month, you have turned into a slap-happy, wild child. You're communicating a lot more with your hands and verbally. You consistently sign "more" when you want to eat more, "milk" (aka Mom) and "all done." You still haven't signed "please," so you're still more demanding than polite. You sign "more" so much, you also have begun to say it: "Mmmmmmooooaaaa.... mmmmoooaaa mmmooommmaaa." Somewhere in there you're saying, "More, Mama."

You are eating pretty much everything we are these days. Your bottom two front teeth are there, but let's be honest, they're useless. You do fine gumming most things. Your top two front teeth are starting to break through now. They'll be more useful. Like a good set of knives, you'll notice the difference. 

You're nearly crawling. You started crawling backwards. Your Mom says that's normal, but I think it's weird. You don't learn how to drive a car in reverse. Anyway, you're on your hands and knees scooting around to whatever toy is nearby, or Greta. You're hellbent to touch Greta's paws. Sometimes she lets you. You also reach for Greta's frisbee, knowing that's the key to her attention. When you grab it, you waive it around your head triumphantly and "throw it," which is a little further than a drop. I am super impressed by your eye-hand coordination. You can sometimes catch a ball in the air from a short distance. It took your Aunt Nina an additional 10 years to accomplish that feat. 

If you're not on a crawling mission, you prefer to sit-up and have excellent posture. I wonder when kids start to slouch. I slouch all the time, but you have this perfect upright position. It's inspiring. When I slouch I have a beer-gut, but when I have good posture I look like I may work out once a week (about right). Thanks for the reminder.

Our morning and nighttime routines have changed recently. When you wake up in the morning, I find you sitting up in the crib, looking at me like, "Dad! Let's get this day started!" and "Change me. I peed like an adult overnight." At night, you've been less interested in taking a bottle with me on the couch. You drink a little but then start to flick the bottle nipple and laugh. You have a great sense of humor. Nipple flicking is funny. You'd rather take the bottle when you're in your crib later in the night. Mom says that's a bad habit, but I think it's nice to kneel by your crib and talk to you about the day. Sometimes you still flick the nipple at the end of the bottle for good measure. 

You've also started to wave at people, which is totally adorable. You wave at strangers in the store who wave back. You are doing your job being a cute baby who waves. Keep it up. When you're older, the adult version of this is smiling. The more you smile at people, the more you'll reflect the light in the world. 

Like any baby, any month, you get a lot more toys. You're a big fan of anything that lights up and plays music. You're obsessed with your maracas, xylophone and drums. You're in the rhythm section. We also finally opened up the VW-inspired play tent van that your Aunt Courtney bought you several months ago. Your Mom has always wanted a VW Vanagon and I think she's a little jealous you got a van before she did. 

Speaking of tents, we went camping as a family!!! Camping is an American tradition, so we introduced you to camping for the Fourth of July. (We would have gone weeks early but weekend weather wasn't working in our favor.) We camped out on the lawn of the Chaffee beach house. The backyard-camping approach made it an easy trip because we could pack light. Your old man was smart enough to pick a place where we could bail if things went wrong.

Well, they did. You were totally fine, but I didn't think through Greta freaking out all night over the fireworks. She shed a year's worth of hair inside the tent, and I spent the morning with a lint roller pulling it all up off the floor, cots, clothes and anything else in plain sight. 

In the bigger world that you don't see yet, there's a lot of sadness. I believe that you'll look back at the "20-teen years" and identify it as a time when gun violence, police brutality and racist and homophobic-inspired acts of violence peaked. It's not unlike how I remember the LA riots of 1992. There's a tension in our country. There was a major shooting at a gay club in Orlando a few weeks ago, and consistent, almost daily, killings of young black men by police officers -- and a retaliatory sniper attack on Dallas police officers, taking five lives. There's a movement called, "Black Lives Matter," that is drawing attention to how black people are being targeted by authorities. 

All of this translates to us living in a lot of privilege. We aren't targeted and abused by authorities because of what we look like. Our corner of the Pacific Northwest is very progressive and largely tolerant. Though we're not often affected, we have an opportunity to contribute to the solution -- by acting our values. The best thing I can think of doing is raising you to be a loving, open-minded little girl. You will have friends who are black, white, Indian, Latino, gay, straight... and the list goes on.

The more you open your world to people who are different than you, the faster you'll build wisdom, compassion, understanding and live in the present. If that's not rewarding, I don't know what is. 

With love, Dad

Dear Eliza, Eight Months Old

You are playing at my feet as I type this letter.

You're working on the baby version of a Rubik's Cube, sliding shapes up and down elastic bands. Your Mom says you're really smart the way you use the toy, but I figured it out REALLY quickly all by myself. Just saying.

We left our last letter off in Maui. It seems like so long ago! We had a wonderful time. We ate so much Hawaiian shaved ice. You ate the virgin version, which has no syrup -- so basically just ice. It still came in a fancy cone. You weren't quite as happy on the flight back home compared to your angel-like demeanor on the way to Maui. I totally get it. The end of a vacation can be a total downer, but that doesn't mean you should cry about it or make your old man pace the plane aisles with you. 

We spent plenty of time on Washington's rocky beaches when we got back home. With the weather improving, we've been walking Owen's Beach at Point Defiance on the weekends and during low tides. Greta flies around us off leash while we take in the views and smell the sea. This will be a common summer scenario.

We also took to the mountains a couple weeks ago in a memorable Dad Fail. I've been eager to go for a bigger hike with the entire family and found a hike outside Mt. Rainier National Park around Mount Beljica. According to the WTA, the mountain's name is attributed to two families who climbed to the summit in 1897. "The proud fathers of the Mesler and LaWall families pulled the first initial of each of their combined children and created the name: Burgon, Elizabeth, Lucy, Jessie, Isabel, Clara, and Alex." Sounds like the making of a great family hike, right? 

Wrong. I knew I made a bad mistake about four miles into the drive on forest service roads... because we had another four miles of bumpy driving ahead to reach the trailhead. You'll look this hike up later and roll your eyes. 

Shortly after we got on the trail, we encountered many downed trees and had to pass you in the backpack over and under them. We also crossed iced-over avalanche debris. I improvised with some broken tree branches as ice axes so we wouldn't slide 50 feet if I slipped. Your Mom wasn't happy about that part. The hike started too high in elevation, so we hit the snowline at Lake Catherine and lost the trail. We still had fun in the snow and took some pictures.

Greta ran around playfully in the snowfield during our photoshoot. She miscalculated where the snowbank stopped and accidentally fell into the thawing lake. That was a problem. Greta was OK, but it gave us a scare and was a final signal that we should head back across the avalanche debris, over and under downed trees, and to our car at the trailhead to drive the bumpy forest service road back home. 

On the home front, you're eating a lot more at the dining table and join the conversation with new noises to express your delight when you try new foods. While we started you on vegetables like we're supposed to, you've taken more to berries and carbs. No surprise there. That's the good stuff in life! Your Mom continues to teach you sign language to help you communicate. You're combining "eat," "please" and "more" all at once, so naturally you're signing "Eat more, please." You sign frantically when we serve pasta. Such a smart, quarter-Italian girl.  

While you're not too picky about foods, you've gotten to be more sensitive about who's around. You always produced alligator tears when you see Uncle Sergio. I think you're confused about someone who looks like me, but shorter, louder and smells more like ice cream cones. You're fairly comfortable around your Aunt Nina. Maybe that's a girl thing or she just smells like another baby. 

You tend to get more comfortable with people after you've had a chance to mad-dog them for at least 10 minutes. Once you feel you've won a staring contest, you turn into your more giggly self. You might be an alpha. 

You're not crawling yet, but you grab at every thing in sight. You get most excited when Greta is in reach. When you see her you squeal so loud you could make orca pods change course. We're trying to teach you "gentle touch" to pet Greta instead of grab a handful of her fur, but she's been patient with you. She knows her role in teaching you, and that the payoff is years of frisbee play ahead. In fact, she's started to offer you the frisbee when we play. You gladly wave it around like a victory flag. 

The only thing troubling you lately are your new teeth. You've got two middle bottom teeth that popped up this month like toasted bread. Your middle top teeth are starting to show as well. You're doing your best cutting those teeth in, grinding your gums together. You don't complain much during the day, but the incoming teeth have affected your sleep. It's nearing midnight and I hear you waking up now. (It's now a few hours later than when I first started writing. I took a break to Netflix binge with your Mom.) 

That's the hard part about growing up. Sometimes it hurts a little to get to that next stage. I can't always help you with the pain or the process, but I'll always be there to comfort you. Most of the time, that's all you need. 

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, Seven Months Old

Aloha from Maui!

Sorry for the delay on this letter. Wrapping up work and getting all of us out the door for vacation was quite the rush. Now we're settled in a condo with the Chaffees in Kihei and enjoying a slice of paradise. 

Yesterday we got you in the pool in an infant float and you loved it. Normally we have to hold you in the pool, but that float lets you be independent and splash and kick at will. It was nice for me and Mom to be hands-free, too. We also spent a little time on the beach, and I think you were most entertained by the swaying palm trees. 

You're getting used to the heat and humidity but having a bit of a hard time napping and sleeping at night. The time change doesn't help. It's OK. Sleeping in new places can be hard sometimes. There's no bed quite like your own.

You've had another great month overall. You're starting to communicate a little more. Mom taught you how to clap your hands together and is helping you modify that motion to say "more please' in sign language. Mom is very tricky. 

You spent a lot of time with your Mom in Indiana for an entire week! Your Mom was nervous about flying alone with you, but coincidentally our second-cousin Rob was on the flight and in your same row to help! It was a little miracle.  

Mom said, "Eliza LOVED spending time with family." I know your Grammie and Popa enjoyed spoiling you. I was on the road for work at 5 Point Film Festival in Colorado and visiting tech companies in San Francisco during that time. I had a lot of fun, too, but it was tough being away from you for that long. And when we all got back to Tacoma I was surprised how much your personality and behavior had changed! Seeing you day-to-day, the changes feel really gradual, but a week away felt like a year in your development. Fortunately that won't happen too often.

We celebrated your Mom, Grandma Vicki and Aunt Nina for Mother's Day last weekend. It was a low-key event at our house, and we spent more time with your cousin Harrison. We got Mom a SodaStream because she drinks SO MUCH seltzer water. This was a very smart and environmentally-conscious gift from your old man. The SodaStream wasn't the most sentimental Mother's Day gift, but you'll find that your old man tends to be practical like that.

One of my favorite activities this past month was walking around with you in our Osprey Poco child carrier backpack. You get to see the world from altitude, and it's a comfy workout for me. We've gone on some dad-daughter walks around the neighborhood together. I get to talk to you one-on-one and talk to you about what's on my mind and explain a little more of the world that you see. You're a captive audience. We'll get to do a lot more of those activities this summer. I'm looking forward to that. 

I'm going to keep this letter short because we have a lot of playing to do around Maui. 

Love, Dad

Dear Eliza, Six Months Old

Dear Eliza, 

Holy smokes! You're half a year old already!

You are a big talker, just like your Dad. Your language right now consists of high-pitch squeals, fake coughing, fart noises with your lips (and butt cheeks occasionally), and "mmm" sounds -- signaling that "mom" might be your first word. I'm not getting any "d" sounds yet, despite consistent efforts, so it looks like your Mom is going to take the first-word bragging rights.

Your core strength is starting to show. Behind that milk gut you have some abdominal muscles and a strong back. You're sitting up a lot more and have good balance.

You still like to stand assisted, and we're closing in on that trick where you stand on my hand and balance in the air. It's going to be the ultimate party trick. Because you're sitting up so well, you're also doing a great job sitting in high chairs at restaurants. We've been able to go out to eat as a family about once a week and you have yet to throw a fit, knock on wood. Your Mom and I really appreciate your good behavior and allowing us to function in the outside world. 

We have been sitting at the dining table as a family for evening meals as well. That's important to me and your Mom. You showed an interest right away in what we had on our plates -- making chewing motions from your high chair -- and that indicated it was time to get you on some serious solids. So far you've tried carrot sticks, green beans, bananas, broccoli and cucumber, and today you ate a little ground pork! My daughter is no vegetarian. We're not supposed to laugh or react, but it's really funny to watch you eat. You can't get a grip on bananas and they fly out of your pinchers. You love green beans and try to stuff them in your mouth. You've brought a new form of entertainment to the table.

Eating solid foods is going to get easier because you're breaking in teeth! Yes, we see a little first tooth breaking through and think we'll really see it in the next few days. You've been a little whiny about the associated discomfort, but hang in there. You've got a mouthful of teeth ahead. If you think this is bad, wait until your wisdom teeth get pulled. I'll help you with that episode in about 20 years, too.

In addition to your development, we've had an adventurous past month. Most importantly, you have a new cousin! Harrison Henry Ballew on March 21, and we had a chance to meet him a few days later on our way to a cabin weekend in Mt. Baker. His little size reminded us of how big you are now. I'm not sure how you two will get along. What's going to happen in the near term is that we're going to put you together for photos against your will (see below). Then when you get to school age, you'll likely be in the same grade and get along fine. Then when you become teenagers you'll have some distance because you'll have different tastes and generally think each other is weird. Aunt Nina and I will still make you talk to each other at family events like Christmas and such. Then you won't talk much in your early 20s because you'll be busy carving your own paths in the world. By your late 20s you'll have become your own persons and find value in your relationship as cousins and appreciate what you have in common in your generation. You'll spend time talking about how strange your parents have become, which will increasingly become true. You'll always have that to make conversation about. 

That was a bit of a tangent. So anyway, we met Harrison (please avoid variations of "hairy' names for your Aunt Nina and Uncle Jeff) and had another visit on the backside of an amazing trip to Mt. Baker. We rented a cabin for my birthday (Now age 33; it's my Jesus year -- Jesus did a lot of amazing things at age 33, no joke. The pressure is on.) and invited your Uncle Scott, Mike, Jaclyn and the Gepharts to join us. The guys skied one day and you and the ladies came up to Mt. Baker to play in the snow. These weekends continue to encourage your Mom and me to consider buying a cabin for the family. I'll be curious if by the time you can read and comprehend this letter we have one. Maybe you're reading this at the cabin... weird. 

With the days getting longer and warmer, you're spending more time outside, and you love it! You have my sunburn-prone complexion, so take extra care to make sure you've got a rashguard suit and hat to protect you, or some sort of shade. 

We'll have more outside adventures soon because we got a new backpack for you (and me). It's called the Osprey Poco and it's going to replace the stroller in a lot of ways. You get to see more of the world from my height. That's going to be our main ride on hikes, outings and vacations to come. We went out to watch the Daffodil Parade in downtown Tacoma this weekend, and you loved being perched high like that to watch the floats, high school bands and Daffodil princesses. Looking across the spectrum of participants, I'd like to see you as one of those talented percussionists in the school band, but you can be a princess if you want. I just think the waving would get boring after the first block.

You also hit the water this past month: We took you swimming for the first time at the Sumner YMCA (because it has the best pool and facilities). You absolutely love the water and pretend the crawl stroke and kick when we float you on your tummy. We've dunked you a few times, but it makes me a little nervous. We're supposed to blow in your face to make you gasp before we quickly dunk you, but every time we blow in your face you smile and therefore take in a little gulp of water when you go under. You somehow blow the water out of your nostrils, which is funny to watch. I watched a video on YouTube the other day about these six-month-olds who learn how to float in a pool on their backs in case they fall in. We don't have a house with a pool where that's so important, but we're going to start proper swim lessons in the next month. Knowing how to swim is really important. We live around a lot of water, and the better you can swim the more you'll get to enjoy it.  

With all of these activities, I have to say I still enjoy our quiet times at home the most. All the boring stuff is somehow the easiest type of fun. Even when I change your diaper, you've been more entertaining and engaged. You grab your feet and clap them to amuse yourself. I pretend to bite your collar and tummy like a monster, and you giggle really hard and grab at my glasses and face because you're ticklish.

Before you go to bed, I give you a bottle and sometimes we binge watch "Broad City," which is a show about two young women in New York City. The show is super brash and raunchy, but I think it's brilliant and laugh out loud. Sometimes my belly laugh scares you and you cry, but most of the time you deal with it. I wouldn't call the characters in the show role models, but they represent a sort of feminism that is complex, independent and unapologetic -- all through smart humor. I wouldn't mind if you became of woman with a full house of those traits. And if you're none of those things, I'll love you anyway. 

Thanks for a great first 6 months. I'll never forget them.

Love, Dad