It's Been Five Months

Oh, my darling girl.

This past Saturday, you turned five months old.

While every second with you has been a gift, I have to say, this past month may have been the most forming for you and I as mother and daughter.

You're coming into your own. You are funny, smart, and, well, sassy.

It's not that you cry so much as you yell.

I often leave you for two seconds, happily playing on a blanket on the floor, and return to find you bellowing at a toy you can't reach or the dog who won't come close enough for you to grab him.

In fact, we've had so few tears as of late that when you do cry, I almost panic. You are, in general, a supremely happy baby.

And a drool-y baby, my dear. A very drool-y baby.

You "talk" to me almost the entire time you're awake, which is pretty much all day. Your nap schedule has remained easy and natural, so even when you wake up from napping, I find you talking, not crying.

In fact, all your "talking" has gotten me in some rather hot water this month. You've chatted your way through church, a yoga class, and several rather important phone calls. I'm pretty sure you don't understand the idea of "quiet time."

Heck, even the middle of the night is not sacred. Even when you wake up sometimes, you start talking to me then, too. If I don't respond, you literally screech and giggle - "Yah! Yah! Yah!" - until I turn and look at you. It would be hysterical, if it wasn't at 2 a.m.

Luckily, those nights are beginning to fade. Over the last week or so, I've noticed your old, better sleep habits returning. We've tweaked our co-sleeping a bit, and I have to say, it's been worth it.

Developmentally, you are all over the map. You're ahead in so many areas - you can get up on your hands and knees very briefly; you mimic us; you can sit up for small periods of time; you can tri-pod for even longer, and you can identify the cause-and-effect features of toys such as rattles and squeakers - but you're not so keen on other things, like rolling over.

The pediatrician didn't seem worried and said you were quite strong. So, as usual, I figure you just like to keep us guessing as you march to the beat of your own drum.

Speaking of marching to your own beat, you're currently in a class all your own - a weight class, that is.

You weighed 18 pounds, 6 ounces at 4.5 months old. As usual, we were the spectacle at the doctor's that Friday, as other pediatricians and nurses came to look at you. Your height has slowed down - you are only average length-wise. But your head - it's all those big brains you've got, my sweet girl - and your body are large and in charge.

That's not an optical illusion. That baby is actually that big.

We actually got to see the midwife who delivered you just last week, and she was shocked that you are almost three times the size you were when you were born. But she still exclaimed, "Oh, she's just beautiful!"

And of course, your daddy and I agree.

We love every roll on you. You are still exclusively breast-fed and, obviously, loving it. Oddly enough, the only other thing you've ingested is the condensation coming off a cold glass of water. It is, quite honestly, your new favorite pastime - drinking glasses, that is. If we're holding you, you track that mason jar of water to and from our mouths obsessively, staring and reaching out your hands. If I'm not careful, you'll lean forward and plant your little mouth right on it, sucking that cool glass surface till kingdom come.

You've also learned to stick out your tongue, blow spit bubbles, and grab onto anything - hair, earrings, facial features. All are fair game when it comes to your little hands.

You've even learned how to give kisses.
While you used to humor me and occasionally suck on a pacifier in the car - your least favorite place in the world - you now outright refuse it. So we gave up and just got rid of them. It has made little to no difference, believe it or not. You are just as happy, or, sometimes, unhappy, in the car-seat as you were before. I dare say you're tolerating the car about 90-percent of the time these days. If you'd told me that four months ago, I'd never have believed it. But it appears we've won you over, and I'm so thankful.

You have, however, found your thumb. You'll chew on it here or there during the day, but now, at night, I'll hear you start to rouse, rooting around, and then you'll get your thumb in your mouth and a few sucks later, you're back out. At a P*mpered Chef party last week, I had you in a sling on my hip, and I was talking away to someone so intently that when I looked down, I was surprised to find you passed out on my shoulder with your thumb in your mouth. So, yes, it appears I may have a thumb-sucker on my hands. I've done some research on it, and because it's such a natural reflex, I'm totally OK with it. Your grandmother is especially thrilled; she thinks a baby sucking her thumb is "super-cute", as she says.

You are wearing 6-9 and 9-month clothing. Thanks to the cloth diaper, you can even manage some 12-month pants. I'm forever sorting through your outfits, and I feel like I've become the mom always giving something away at every play-date we're at. ("Anyone need this Christmas sleeper? It's already too small for Ella, and it's not yet Thanksgiving!")

Some other major milestones this month? Your first Halloween, where you wore a pumpkin sleeper and nursed your way through the holiday. Your first fever, which was hands down my worst mommy-experience to date. And your first nine-hour stretch of sleep at night. (Oddly enough, you hit this amazing milestone in the month you decided to regress majorly in the sleep department. Go figure.)

Just the photo of my sick baby breaks my heart.

You and I ran two 5Ks this month, the last of which was this weekend, where you were none to thrilled with the get-up you had on, all because it was also the morning you experienced your first freeze.

"Mom! Seriously? Pink and fuzzy? Again? Gah! I'm way to cool for this kind of get-up!"

If you had your way, you'd be naked or scantily clad at all times. You like the freedom it allows you to grab your toes and roll about, free as a bird.

I believe this is is what they call "Happy Baby." In yoga and in life.

People laugh at how close we are. While you "allow" other people to hold you, you've taken to getting a bit panicky if anyone other than your father takes you from me. Your eyes worriedly follow me everywhere, and if I walk away for too long, your bottom lip pokes out and quivers. Needless to say, I just don't walk away from you almost ever.

Still, you interact with me in a different way. You pat my shoulder while I'm carrying you, pat my face and breast while I'm nursing you, and sometimes, in your sleep, reach over and pat my belly before snuggling into me.

On the hard days, I tell myself it's your way of saying, "You're a good mama, Mama." But even though it's largely a reflex, I'm sure, I find it endearing.

Not to take too much away from your daddy, though.

When he walks in from work, your whole little self lights up. You bat your arms and grin and squeal and throw yourself toward him. I often hear you two yucking it up when he gives you a bath. (Baths are daddy's thing when he's home to do them.)

Like I said, she l-o-v-e-s her some daddy time.

I'm sure there's a million other things you're doing these days that I'm forgetting. Honestly, it's every other minute that I look around and find you moving a new way or making some sort of new noise. I swear, I'm going to blink, and you'll be 20.

But, even then, I hope I can remember you just like you've been this month. A happy, healthy, sweet-as-pie, but still spunky as all get-out, baby girl.
I love you, my little one. More and more every day.

Love,
Your mama