Foster, today you are 7 months old. I cannot believe it. It seems like just yesterday we brought you home from the hospital. You are such a delightful little baby and nothing like what I imagined you'd be at 7 months. I'm not sure exactly what I thought you'd be like. I guess I just never expected you to be so happy.
This is actually the first update I've ever written to you, but since you're seven months old and since I'd like to do this each month, it seemed more appropriate to go ahead and call this Monthly Update: 7, rather than Monthly Update: 1. Seven is a good place to start, though. I've always liked that number.
Before I forget, I got this idea from Heather Armstrong of dooce.com fame. She writes a monthly newsletter to her daughter(s), and I've always thought it a great idea. I doubt that my writing will be as eloquent or funny as hers, but here goes...
Right now you are supposed to be napping, and in between fussing you break out with "ba-ba-ba-BA-BA-ba-ba-BAAA-BAAA-ba-ba..." So, I guess that's the highlight of this month, the ba-ba-ba-ing. You say it in the cutest voice I've ever heard. My favorite is when you pop off my breast and look at me with a slight grin, "ba-ba-ba-ba-ba..." Like we have an inside joke. In many ways you are still a newborn to me, but in others you are already a little boy. A little boy about to go off to kindergarten, and I'm not ready.
We started you on solids at 4 months, and you love them! You will eat anything and everything! I think you'd prefer to eat solids than nurse, unless of course it's 4 a.m., then you'd nurse for hours if I let you. I talked to the doctor about this and she said it's very common for babies your age to become more interested in solid food than breastmilk, much to your grandma's and my chagrin. Poor Grandma has to really work at getting you to take a bottle when you stay with her. Other than that, you're her little angel. A charmer, she calls you.
With me it's more that you're distracted than not wanting to nurse. You're all, What's that? That, over there? Oh yeah, that's a ceiling fan! There's one in every room. I love staring at that those things. And, and! I want to pull those chains. Please. Pleeaase? Can I pa-lease pull those chains?! Oh wait, what's that? That thing? That teeny, tiny thing that no one else would ever notice? Oh yeah, that's a pair of nail clippers. I must hold those nail clippers or I will lose my mind! Give me those nail clippers! If you don't give me those nail clippers, I will get them myself. Just watch me! And, the squirming begins. The arching of the back commences and the nursing is over.
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star is your favorite song. Whenever you start to fuss your daddy and I sing it. I sing melody and he sings harmony. You love it! You instantly smile that sweet smile of yours. Your whole face lights up when you smile. You have a twinkle in your eye just like your daddy.
This month you learned how to roll from one end of the room to the other, scoot on your belly and clap. When you clap you look like Paula Abdul on American Idol with your fingers spread wide and your palms slapping together. Every time you start to clap, your daddy and I say, "Yay!" and clap too. But, that concerns you and you stop clapping altogether.
You are almost sitting up independently, but not crawling yet. I'm in no rush for you to learn either skill, though. I want you to stay a baby forever. Last night you woke up at 3:30 a.m. to eat and after you nursed you let me hold you against my chest and rock you. You were awake, and you NEVER let me rock you while you're awake. If you're awake, it's go time! YOU MUST NEVER BE ROCKED OR READ TO DURING WAKING HOURS. That is the rule. But, last night you were content to be rocked. I wish it had not been so early in the morning, but because of the hour I felt like I should put you back to bed and go back to bed myself. I missed you instantly.
For the past couple of months you have taken a liking to our pets. Your favorite seems to be Pumpkin, the most elusive of the three. She doesn't really give you any attention, but whenever she crosses your path, you react as if you've just won the lottery! You shriek and smile and start to squirm for me to put you down near her. Minnie, however, is just okay. You get somewhat excited when she comes around, but your fascination quickly evaporates. It's just as well. I think the feeling is mutual. Then there's Lucky. He is the only pet that can crack you up with his antics. His antics are rare, though. He's somewhat reclusive these days, what with all the storms this summer. Your daddy and I try every day to get him going; snorting, snuffing, barking, running, jumping, etc...all in an effort to hear you laugh. The sound of your laugh is chicken soup for the soul.
Your daddy is the master of getting a laugh out of you. You almost never laugh at me. I try and try to tickle, shake, rattle and roll you, but nope, you save Mr. Giggles for your daddy. You literally light up when he comes home from work. It's as if you know, it's playtime! You and your daddy play so rough sometimes that his beard scratches up your little face. The redder and more irritated your face, the more fun you've had.
I was talking to my Nana, your great grandmother, on the phone last night, and told her that I think I spoil you by holding you too much. I explained that I even have to hold you while I vacuum because you're all of a sudden scared of it. I start to vacuum and you start to cry. It's a new cry. A scared cry, and it breaks my heart. I really don't mind holding you, though. I know that soon and very soon you are not going to want to be held, so I treasure every moment of having you on my hip, of holding you close and being able to kiss that sweet head of yours. That sweet head that I swear smells just like fresh baked cookies.
Foster, I will hold you whenever you need to be held and I will rock you as often as you want to be rocked. You are my precious ba-ba-baby-boy and I never knew how much I'd love you.