Oh sweet girl,
You have developed quite a personality in your short time here so far. I think I spotted it a while ago, but it’s become so much more evident the older you’ve become. You’re eight months older and frustrated that you’re not three years old. That’s the nutshell version.
You started sitting when you were five months old and it was solely motivated because you wanted to be able to owl your neck every which way to watch Henry. You recently discovered that your legs can support you and so now, despite the fact that your arms aren’t quite strong enough to pull you all the way up, you want to stand. You’ll pull up to your knees then usually whine to get all the way on your feet. Once I put you on your feet, you can hold on and lean into something for a decent chunk of time, but you still take your tumbles, followed by lots of tears. Mostly frustrated tears, I suspect. If it were up to you, you’d be walking and running already. Your body isn’t quite there yet and your fear of missing out is very strong.
I love this age, where you’re sitting on your own, but not crawling yet (you’re so close though!). We still have a short window of time before the baby gates need to go up. But—but—part of me hopes you’ll start moving soon if only so that you aren’t so frustrated with your current limitations.
This past month you dropped your cozy, loose sleep sack (really, a wearable blanket). Henry wore his long past his first birthday, but our air conditioning went out at the beginning of August and it took several days before we could get a new unit put in. Since it was so hot, out of necessity, we just put you to bed in a onesie and you surprised us with how well you did. So as not to have to wean you from your sleep sack later on, when we got our air back, we decided just to stick to pajamas and you have rocked it without missing a beat. And really, is there anything cuter than little baby pajamas?
You’re jabbering more and more now and I’m noticing so many new consonants in your gibberish. It’s so fun to hear you talk, as if you actually think you’re part of the conversation. Henry loves to get in your face and talk right back to you and I sometimes wonder if you guys have some sort of communication line that I’m not part of.
You’re a cuddlier baby than I remember Henry being and my favorite moments are right before your naps when I start to rock you. Your favorite place to be is straddling me, your chubby legs against my sides and you rest your head on my chest. If your hear Henry, you pop up to look around for him, but then you gently lay your head back down and hum to yourself. I could hold you like that all day and never get tired of it.
No teeth yet, but you’re still drooling, occasionally fussy, and always, always putting things in your mouth to chew on. I keep thinking teeth will pop out soon, but I also sort of remember this with Henry and it was an ongoing thing for a long time (he didn’t pop his first tooth until after he was one).
We had a busy month and maybe it was because Henry starts preschool in just a couple of days or that I realized summer was almost over so we were trying to fit all of our final days of summer into one chunk of time. We had a picnic at the park. We went to the zoo. We turned in your first summer reading program at the library. (You got a book as a reward.) We took lots of walks. We roasted s’mores in the fire pit. We took trips to Lowes, Theisen’s, Target, the grocery store, all of which you love because you get to ride in the cart or, even better, drive the car cart if we are lucky enough to get one. (I say lucky, but really, lucky for you and Henry. Those things are beasts to push around.) We drank it up, every last drop of summer. And now we’re moving on to fall. The pumpkin patch. The apple orchard. Crunching leaves. Nature walks. Sweatshirts at the park. It’s all coming up, darling.
I’m treasuring this age, even as I know from experience the upcoming stages are even more fun. I feel more relaxed this time around, more willing to soak you in right here in the present and less looking for the next thing you’ll do. I look at you and my heart aches, physically aches inside of me, because I love you so much and I just feel so truly lucky to be the one you will call mama.
I will love you forever, darling girl.