We celebrated Mommy’s first Mother’s Day this Sunday (well, Friday technically in Chile) and you behaved like a young lady. You woke up at 5:45 to celebrate, right? It’s like you knew. That was fun. Next year, since you might be walking, I think I’ll ask for breakfast in bed.
I think my favorite part of the day was when I was walking back from the bakery with you and your grandma and great grandma and an elderly gentleman stopped, bowed slightly, tilted his hat and wished me a Happy Mother’s Day. Chivalry is not dead!
And now you are six months old. SIX WHOLE MONTHS. I feel like I’m typing SIX WHOLE YEARS instead of months because so much has been crammed into a half a year. You are growing up. My baby. My Squeaker who doesn’t squeak so much anymore. And so much is changing! You are finally growing some hair (I’m sorry, you got my fine hair that is allergic to growing), your teeth are starting to poke through, and you are experimenting with sounds, “bababa” and “mamama” are your favorites, oh, and whatever that sound is that you make when you do the spit bubbles. Daddy and I are placing bets as to what your first word will be. My bet is on “mama” (but will it be mama or mamá?). Who knows, you could be a rebel like Mommy was and say “hot” and “duck”. It made for an interesting first Christmas when Mommy toddled around screaming, “HOT DUCK! HOT DUCK!”
You’re probably interested to know that we’re trying fruits again. That means a daily battle as Mommy boils the apple and then puts it in the blender to, excuse my language, blend the sh*t out of it. Literally. Mommy is worried you might be constipated again. Oh the joys of motherhood.
Really, Mommy could write a book about The Things You Don’t Expect About Motherhood But Really Really Should. You are quite the exacting teacher and it’s pass-fail. How am I doing?
I’ve been trying to step up my game.We’ve been trying to get out lately so you can socialize with other babies. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s totally so Mommy can talk to other adults during the day and not go completely cuckoo and start interacting with inanimate objects (Why, hello, Babysitting Cow, I’m doing well. How are you?). I’m not quite sure what you get out of it since all you do is stare at each other suspiciously.
And just now as I was typing this and you were sucking on Jiggly Hippo supported by my legs, I realized that you were supporting yourself ALL BY YOURSELF. First time. Sitting on your own. Boom! You like to keep things interesting, don’t you?
Don’t stop being you.