Mastilda

My dear niece Josie gave M one of her most apropos and oft used nicknames: Mastilda.

(Here's where Spanish-teacher-Tara puts her arm around the shoulder of everyone.)

Más means more in Spanish.

And if you've seen Matilda, she's a whole lotta love.


And therein, the brilliance.

Today, I'm giving you more of my nine month-old girl. 'Cause when a mama is far from family, I'm pretty constantly thinking of how she is growing and wanting to provide front row seats for our people despite the distance.

Bathtub Matilda - 9 months from Tara Lewis on Vimeo.

Due to her massing, M needed to move on up, trading in the mini crib of her youth...



for the crib of her elders.

Douglas! Look! Room for the both of us!

These photos were the first time she had ever sat in her bed. Because I set her there. These days, as in the past two weeks, her goings-to-sleep are hampered by her ability to protest herself into sitting. Where she's kind of stuck, because she's mad and doesn't want to lay down quietly. Before this new nap time hiccup, she discovered another way to clearly protest pending sleep - throwing her pacifier. Strong enough to pull the abused plastic tether from her clothes, she plucks it from her lips and defiantly thrusts it over my shoulder, or over the crib rail, to the hardwood, where with the tether, it makes a contemptuous clatter. Sometimes I find it funny. That's typically when it's daylight. At o'dark thirty when I'm fumbling around on the floor with one hand and have a pissed baby in the other? No, I've never wanted to throw her.

Two developments from this week:

1. She thinks standing is awesome. Floor space in our 900 square foot, three level row house you could say is limited, so I kind of retired the Exersaucer early, obliging Matilda to work on her sitting skills. Which, like a pellet-bottomed, kitschy mantle-decorating doll, are well, well honed. But some quality floor time with Mom and Pops has her seeing the world from new heights.

2. She plays catch with me. I have three daughters. (I don't know if I've ever typed that out before. Whoa. Still realizing that I am a mother of three. Again, not sure how many times I've made that statement either! I'm really quite self-aware.) I attempt to drive home that mama loves to play catch. Hit, roll, toss, or pass objects back and forth. I 'spose because I have two brothers, this is how you hang out together! You play catch! It's fun! It's relational! You get to chat and see each others' smiling faces! However, this is far, far from the first thing my children are gaming to do any given day. At ten o'clock this morning, our first day of summer with no where to be, we were out on the lawn. Tossing the old pigskin? No. Polishing nails. Pink. I think it was Tutti Fruitti. It's a good one. Now I'm not saying that if I asked they would totally deny me, it's just not a commonly coveted activity. (And honestly, I wouldn't have traded that Quality Time with Nomes for anything!) However, when Matilda Dean is pursuing our, yes, pink prismatic ball and then, when I sit down opposite her, she picks it up with her little hands and purposefully releases it in my direction? Love it! And then when I roll it back to her she does it again? This is a good time.

So though this nickname should perhaps fade as MD's waistline decreases and her awareness increases, I have a feeling that as time continues to flash by, my desire for Mastilda posts could be prolific.

Buuut until that time, I leave you with my hands down, favorite shot to-date of my dear babe's plush.