She is eleven months old today. She pulls herself up to a standing position and lets go, holding herself up for almost a whole minute. She's working on getting up from a squatting position. She can hold her bottle with one hand. She says "Uh oh" anytime she drops or throws something. The other day I found her halfway up the staircase. Oh my word, I am doomed.
And still no teeth.

I don't know how many of you have tried the Blogger "Blog Search" function. In a rare fit of blog vanity, I typed the word "purple" into their little beta screen. Sheesh, you'd think that with fifty percent of my title being taken up with the word, I'd have made at least the top twenty hits. I'd say that at least half of the items returned dealt with LiveJournalers talking about their bitchen new hair color.
But since I'm not blog-vain, this doesn't bother me, right?

It's not just me, right? Gigi and I were at our weekly "swimming" class yesterday. Okay, it's not really "swimming" - it's more like 'getting baby used to the water' class. The instructor is this earnest young guy who seems genuinely good natured about spending his evenings in a county rec center pool surrounded by neurotic suburbanite moms and their squalling, waterlogged offspring. One of the tricks Earnest uses to get babies comfortable in the water is to have all the mommies sing happy familiar songs. He starts us off with a few rounds of "Row Row Row Your Boat" or "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" then asks each mom to pick a song in turn.
Today it was my turn and so help me God if I heard "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round" one more time I was going to puncture my eardrums with an icepick. So when Earnest asked me which song I wanted, I said, "How about some Elvis?" Thus I led my soaking sisters in a rousing chorus of "Wise men say/only fools rush in..." I'd like to think that the appalled ones were outnumbered by the relieved. Come on, even Mother Teresa would have packed it in after the 20th round of Variations on a Theme of 'When You're Happy and You Know It'.

Still no teeth. But believe me, it's not for lack of trying. With all the agony it was causing her the other night, you'd think that she's going to sprout five-inch fangs any moment now. But at least all this isn't affecting her energy level: she's still cruising and crawling and attempting stairs all over the place.
The effect it's having on my nerves is a totally different story. She's in a "Mommy is the best pacifier EVER!" stage, which means that in effect, I have a 17-pound band-aid attached to me wherever I go.

It seems that my last post had quite an effect. Gigi's uncle from the other coast e-mailed me the next day and wanted to come visit. Yep, my little girl is so cute, people will fly across the continent to spend a long weekend with her.
This is part of the reason why Daddy is getting a lifetime membership in the NRA for Christmas, by the way.

Put another dollar in the "Future Therapy Bills" kitty: Gigi has learned to climb up the step from the sunroom into the den, where she can crawl towards the kitchen (and thus out of our sight if we're watching TV). She thinks this is hilarious. Last night I didn't feel like chasing her down to ensure that she stayed out of the cat food. So how did I get her to come back?
"WAAAAH!" I shouted. "I can't see my baby! WAAAAAH! She's gone away! She doesn't exist anymore! WAAAAH! Where's the baby? WAAAAH!"
She crawled back and peered around the door. "OH YAY!" I shouted and clapped my hands. "She's back! She's back! YAAAAY BABY!" Gigi plunked her little tushie on the floor and giggled and clapped. Then she started crawling away again.
"WAH! My baby's gone! I can't see my baby! I can't see her! WAAAH!"
She giggled and headed back, to my cheering and clapping.
The irony was lost on her, I'm sure. But I was laughing my head off.

Happy Equinox to you, Happy Equinox to you, Happy Equinox Purple Scare Readers, Happy Equinox to you!

Not Quite What I Had in Mind: Last week I tried a new facial cleanser that promised "younger looking skin." It gave me pimples.

Happy Birthday from Gigi to Daddy and to Grandma. It just goes to show you what a load of bunkum astrology is: my husband and my mother have the same birthday. (Okay, a few decades apart, but still...)

Like many in her age group, Gigi is very fond of what we call The Gravity Game. She has a toy. She lets it fall to the floor. Nearest caregiver/entertainer picks up toy and gives it to Gigi. Gigi giggles, shakes toy, lets it fall to the floor. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. You get the idea.
Well, now she's added a twist to the game. Toy hits the ground; Gigi vocalizes, "uh-oh!"
Does that count as a first word?

Now don't y'all die of shock that I started posting again.
Break time is over, the blog is back. We just got back from a trip to the Pacific "Northwest" (you know, when you look at the continent as a whole...) where Gigi met her great-grandmother.
Major updates: I'm supposedly going back to work in January, but I don't know where yet. Oh, yeah, and I developed a bit of carpal tunnel or something like it, so I have to limit my computer time these days.
Gigi is knocking down milestones, which has me knocking back the gin and tonics. She's crawling, pulling herself up, experimenting with standing free, and cruising. She babbles in full sentences. Still no teeth - which is just as well, because she is still nursing part-time.
So those of you who had your money on the baby crawling before getting that first tooth, well done. We'll shift the goalposts a bit now: which will be first, walking or a tooth? I'm not in a big hurry for either one.

"I am very pleased."
This is always a good thing to hear from the pediatrician.
I took "Gigi" in for a weight check today, and she's gained 11 pounds since she was born. Not too shabby for ten months. She's also gained a few percentiles: our wee girl has been hovering between the third and fourth percentiles in weight since day one. Not catastrophic, but not something that puts my mind much at ease. So now she's in the eighth percentile for weight.
Her head circumference is in the 90th, by the way. I think we might start calling her Lollipop.