I'm the oldest of three, with more than ten years between me and the youngest. I babysat quite a bit in my youth. Apparently, the diaper changing of those years has disappeared into some really dusty and never-visited corner of my mind. Today, after almost three days of urine-only diapers (I was getting ready to call in the prune-carrying cavalry), MrMan presented me with two diapers containing the results of an increase in solid food consumption. Oh, lordy!
My path is clear: exclusively breastfeed the boy until he's toilet trained and can wipe his own butt.
Dear MrMan,
Six months old! Half a year under your diaper tabs! It's strange to think back to and look at the pictures of you five months ago - such a different little person you were then. (Yet, strangely, the same personality was already established.) It's even hard to think back to you at five months old - you've been growing in leaps and bounds.
This month, a big thing has been your uprightness. All of a sudden you were sitting, unabetted. It's great for you. And me. You get to experience a whole new perspective. I get a little more flexibility in handling you. Another big thing this month was eating something other than my milk. You've now tried rice cereal (yum), asparagus (yum), spinach (yum), pear (yum), watermelon (yum), sweet potato (yum, if eaten off my finger), green beans (okay), and squash (okay). Also, strangely enough, fresh thyme, from Maman Jan's garden. She gave it to you for visual entertainment, but you were happy to gum it. Water's also been a hit, especially if in an open cup. The sippy cup is still a work in progress.
You've discovered your penis. Like many males, you like to check to make sure it's still there. Bathtime... check. Diaper change... check. Just after diaper change... let me just open up these tabs here, do one more check. You love bathtime. If you had your druthers, you'd transform into the world's largest prune (or dried plum, as they're often called these days) on a daily basis. You like to kick the water and explore every position possible. Your new trick is to strategically slide down until your face is just above the water. Then you casually turn your head and slurp the bathwater. This would have freaked me out five months ago (ack, the germs!), but I'm growing, too.
Your favorite song is "Hickory Dickory, Bumble Bee (won't you say your name for me? MrMan, MrMan, that's your name). It's one of the new songs we've learned since joining a playgroup. (In case you're wondering, I judge your favorite song by the magnitude of the smile it brings to your face and how effectively it calms you when you're fussing.) I wasn't sure how much the playgroup would benefit you, considering how young you are in relation to the other kids. But you seem to like it - watching the big kids, playing with things different from what we have at home, learning new songs. I'm glad we have a new set of people to socialize with a few hours a week, and that neither of us are on the path to strange-recluse-living-off-the-grid.
When you turned five months old, you got two major things - your superhero-red umbroller and an exersaucer. The former allows us to spend more time together, as I'm more inclined to pull out eleven pounds of stroller than 20+ pounds of it. The latter allows us to spend more time doing our own things - you busily gnaw on your toys and scoot yourself around the circle, while I do other stuff, sometimes, amazingly, in another room.
You seem to like men with beards, giving them smiles and leaning into their arms. Maman Jan suggested that maybe it's because they remind you of Daddy. I know some people would say that's crazy, since it's now been almost half of your life since you've seen him. But I think there's a truth to what she says. You also seem to get more excited about his voice on the phone than those of other people, and you cried when I showed you a picture of him and then put it away. I've now put a picture of the two of you in a vinyl bag, so you can slobber on it to your heart's content.
At the beginning of this month, I recieved an update from a baby website, saying that, among other things, you would start making raspberries with your mouth. Now the drool is airborne. Right on cue, the next morning, your raspberrying began. This month, you've also started rolling over and slithering, for lack of a better word. You particularly like to slither from our arms to the floor. One thing you've done that was met with both excitement (yay, you're growing!) and panic (oh my gosh, you're going to pull a bookcase down on yourself because I'm lame and haven't done any childproofing) was your pulling yourself up from a sitting to a standing position. Mother's Day morning (thanks for the beautiful flowers, by the way), I sat you in your cosleeper and was preparing a card for Maman Jan, and glanced over and found that you were standing up. A sure sign that life as you've known it, and life as I've known it, is about to end.
You still like being outside and have gotten even more effective at communicating your desire to go there: you "giddyup" us - nudging us with your knees while making a yelping sound. You like rubbing noses with me. My Crocs and painted toenails make you drool. Then again, what doesn't? But you look like you'd like to get your mouth on them. Maybe it's because now you can, and do, suck your toes. Or because I'm always kissing your toes, making you smile, and you'd like to return the favor. I am your favorite person these days, after all.
You've become increasingly focused on others, responding to us more. Before, when we would play peek-a-boo, you would laugh only when it was your face getting covered and exposed. But now, you also think it's funny when it's my face. You playfully try to dodge my hand when it's coming in for a tickle, and are able to anticipate what's going to happen (my hand will get closer, it will tickle you, you will laugh), so the laugh often starts before the acual tickling. The cool thing is that it used to be that the anticipation would start after a few rounds of tickling, but now your memory of the game lasts a couple of days so your giggle starts on the first round of my hand coming in to tickle you.
MrMan, I am in awe of you, and the bounty of being your mother. Particularly recently, I marvel at the swiftness with which you're developing - physically, mentally, emotionally. If I could go back five months and tell myself about the latent qualities within you that have manifested themselves over this time, I wouldn't believe myself. And I can't even begin to imagine the boy you are when you read this. So, for now, I focus on the you of now and how special you are.
Love,
Mommy
In the daytime, our neighborhood is full of activity - carpenters, masons, electricians, levelers, stump grinders, debris collectors ... working to make houses, and the neighborhood, livable again. With each house that is again occupied, our neighborhood can more strongly say, "Take that, green space!"
But at night, it becomes apparent that, despite the bustle of the daytime, the work is far from done, the houses are not yet occupied. Many houses, many blocks, are still dark at night.
Tonight, driving home, I noticed a couple more houses with lights on inside. Each one is a lttle victory. Living here these days can be overwhelming: everything - many houses, many blocks, most neighborhoods, the whole city - needs so much work. But if I focused on that, it would be too hard to get out of bed in the morning. So I choose to focus on the additional houses with lights on, as each one indicates a move in the right direction.
One of the best things about MrMan's new-found sitting skills? The minimal effort I have to make to help him get a burp out. If he complains of a stuck burp, I sit him up and groggily pat his back while I rest in the horizontal position just a little longer. A win-win situation.