Friday, January 15, 2010

Dear Mac: Six Months Old

Doodles, we just had the worst fight of your young life and it's my fault. I've taught you to fall asleep on the boob and now that's the only way you know how . But tonight you've already woken up four times and it isn't even 10 PM yet. After rocking you, Trevor always comes back down drenched in sweat because you won't go down for him unless he does deep knee squats (done to CrossFit form, 'natch). And me, my boobs hurt and my voice gets all scratchy from humming and I get a little bit dizzy from the constant back-and-forth. But the worst part of it is that you just aren't getting enough good quality rest. I know you aren't.

So for some reason tonight was the night. The last time you woke up, I went up but I refused to pick you up. I hummed our song and rocked in the rocking chair beside your crib, just within arm's length so I could stroke your hair head. Overall it was quite the precious maternal scene, only you didn't appreciate it. 40 straight minutes of rage. Eventually you fell asleep, but holy cow, I almost gave up so many times. The thing is, by six months I know you pretty well and I could tell you weren't scared or traumatized, you were just mad. Pure, stubborn rage. I have the scratch marks on my arms to prove it (oh, and a bleeding gash I just noticed. Nice. Now I don't feel so bad).

You are six months old. Half a year. I love you at six months. You're so interested in everything. You're not crawling yet so you get bored easily and I have to change up the scene a lot to keep you content. Expensive toys will be wasted on you, I can already tell. You'd rather get over to that bookshelf or the stereo....

- You're experimenting more with solid food, though reluctantly. Today you put on a show for the family at brunch. I gave you bits of different food from the table and you provided a review with your face. For some reason squash got the best reaction, with all the gagging and drooling (you'd just inhaled bits of breakfast sausage no problem, so it wasn't the texture).

- You snore. I just thought you should know.

- I would describe what you did to our bed last night (I had the diaper right there!) but I want to keep my readership.

- You like to go outside. You like to watch other kids playing, especially your cousin.

- You have the best conversations with your dad. You save all of your new 'words' for him. I understand; your dad is pretty entertaining.

- You had your first long road trip to Kamsack at Christmas and then Winnipeg for New Year's. You only screamed part of the way. You also slept better in both places. I wanna know why, but you're not giving up any clues. All I can think is that all of the extra people wore you out? I was eating more sugar, so maybe it was just crashes?

- Your dad and I have often said how we just want to eat parts of your chubby little body. Devour them. This would be disturbing if we weren't your parents, who are so understandably enraptured with every generous crease and fold of you. And there's a lot to love. As a friend recently said to you, "those wrists are trying to eat those hands!"

- My favourite, absolute favourite moment, is when I hear you wake up from a really good, long nap. You often nap in our bed. I slowly peek around the door and you're already looking for me, already grinning. You totally know the game. I pounce on the bed, you kick and thrash your way out from under the covers, every visible inch of you beaming, from your eyes to your dimples to your big, huge smile. And we sit and cuddle and and chat for a bit, then we get up and you have to examine the light switch very seriously. Then we talk to Charlie and you touch her ears. Then we look out the window on the landing to see if birds are using the feeder yet (they aren't). And then we head downstairs for the next big adventure, which will likely involve either your snowsuit or your birthday suit. One you love, the other you hate. Two guesses which.

- You love when I read to you at the end of the day. You don't look at the pictures, you look at me and laugh and laugh. You especially love Robert Munsch because of the funny voices. But this is the book that I use as your goodnight book. It's beautiful, just like you.

Oh my love, my little Doodles, my bright-eyed little handful. What a ride.
XOXOXOXOX

Love,
Mommy

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1 comments:

Blogger notquiteawake ~ 1:11 PM

I love these posts.  


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