Monday, August 11, 2008
Letter to My Big Boy 6 Month Old at 6.5 Months, Because That's Just How Disorganized Life Is These Days
My Dear Little Funky Monkey,
You have now completed over half of your first year out of Mama's womb. You are all growed up. You're my big boy now, and Papa and I are even talking about leaving you with Tio and Tia for a few hours and going out on a real date...like with just grownups involved and the ability to eat an entire meal without interruption. We also talk about leaving and running away to Peru for an undisclosed amount of time, but that's only in the more challenging moments, and while the frequency of those moments is definitely increasing I'd say you're pretty safe...for now at least.
I think these new personality traits are asserting themselves (that's the nice way of saying you're cute but sometimes you can really be douchey- your Papa and I are totally going to make a onesie that says that too...and all the parents will smile knowingly and the childless people will think we are heartless assholes) mostly because you are not taking small steps of development, but rather giant leaps for all babykind. You are now so close to crawling that I think I peed my pants a little just for writing that statement just now. You can inchworm crawl pretty darn fast, especially if there's something you want to get to to put in your mouth or bang your head into, and you love to get up on your hands and knees and rock back and forth as if you're gearing up and gaining momentum to take off like a rocket. One of these days I know you will. That will also be the day I have my first of many heart attacks. Despite the desperate fear that churns in the pit of my stomach when I think of your impending mobility, I am insanely proud of you. You are doing some of the same things your friends who are 2 months older than you are doing, and while a little ways down the road I may not write that phrase with such glee, for now I am relishing how advanced and brilliant you are proving yourself to be.
An unfortunate byproduct of your new found skills is that you are now the squirmiest creature to have ever been discovered on this planet. Not only are you obsessed with crawling to the point that you practice it in your sleep (to the detriment of Mama's sleep, of course) and want only to be on the floor, even if that floor is covered in hazmat materials and shards of broken glass, but you are also obsessed with standing. You want us to help you stand at all times, stubbornly pushing up when we try to work on your sitting skills. The pediatrician even commented that perhaps you were standing too much and this was negatively affecting your ability to develop your sitting skills. And it probably is, but you are so bound and determined to stand at all times that I have now resigned myself to the notion that you will probably be the freaky kid at prom, all slumped over and unable to sit upright in a chair. You will, however, have mad standing skills, so that may just win the ladies (or the guys...we are open minded parents here) over nonetheless.
You are also eating solids like a champ, always eager to try whatever new foods Mama can make for you, and so far peas have been the only thing you haven't liked. But boy, the face you made with the peas and the accompanying shriek...you are anything but subtle, my son. I have to confess, though, that weird new taste that seems like apples with a certain ju ne sais quoi? That je ne sais quoi...yup, its the peas. Mama's learning to be tricky like that. Hey, we're on a super tight budget around here...I'm not wasting all those peas! So far you've had sweet potato (your fave, and Mama's too), bananas, applesauce, summer squash, butternut squash, carrots, pears, peas, and rice cereal. All made by Mama with organic fruits and veggies except for the pears and the rice cereal, but those were organic too. The next new foods that are all ready to be introduced are avocado and green beans. And this solid foods thing? Totally fun. I love watching you enjoy eating like a big boy (and you do love it- you cry when you see us eating with a spoon and you're not), experimenting with new tastes, and for the first time gaining weight at a good clip.
However, there is one issue we need to discuss, my sweet boy...the poop. Oh god help us all, THE POOP!! The poop is insane! I know what went into that baby food...I made it...but still, I have my suspicion that someone must have slipped something truly rank and vile in when I wasn't looking because what in heaven's name could possibly produce such a stink? And you, who has never been a copious pooper before (you usually were a twice a week pooper at best), have suddenly become the overachiever of poopers, supplying us with enough of the stinky stuff to fertilize the entire nation of Lichtenstein. Did you not get the memo that its supposed to be the other way around? Most babies poop profusely in early infancy and become more constipated with the introduction of solids. But you had to be an original, didn't you? Even as I type this, I hear you grunting away, and am paralyzed with anticipatory fear.
I never thought one could write so much (and talk so much) about poop. Is this really what I've become?
But you, my sweet monkey, what you have become is this extraordinary little person, with your own little personality asserting itself more and more each day. You have the most wondrous smile that can charm even the most stoic and cold people, and when you are happy your little feet and legs start kicking all over the place and you shriek this high pitched little shriek of joy. You love to fake cough, and crack up when I do it back to you, and peek-a-boo is one of your favorite new games. You are curious about everything and that insatiable curiosity combined with your increasing mobility spells certain trouble for us. You love to splash, having spent a weekend playing in the river with your Godmother and Aunt, Chanteuse. In fact you now try to make every surface splash, slapping the floor, your father and I, whatever you can reach. You have also become so very talkative (which is not adorable at 1am, just for the record), saying different combinations of ma, ba, da, ga, and la in this teeny voice that just cracks me up every time because it just doesn't seem to me like it fits with your bulldozer bruiser physicality. You are becoming a much more independent monkey- you're actually on the floor, playing so independently right now, and telling your little turtle Paddles (WB named him) something very important...its a joy to watch you exploring the world around you. And yet there's a teeny part of me that already misses my little baby, who is quickly being replaced by this fearless boy who is now conquering his world inch by inch. You are growing up so fast and furiously that I really treasure the moments that you want to be in my arms, nursing and being nurtured. I hope there's always that little side to you that always wants and needs to be mothered, despite your incredible achievements.
I love you, my sweet little funky, curious, brilliant, obstinate, sweet, and right now very stinky monkey. Let's go brave this diaper situation together.