I hope you’ve been holding onto your diaper, since the whirlwind between month six and today has left us all with a sickening sense of vertigo. Christmas, my dear, was delightful. Oh, but then everything all went to hell. Your mother took care of you for an entire week straight, and did a marvelous job. In between the showering and dinner-fixing, she managed to get you hooked 100% on a solid food-eating regimen. Ever since, you’ve been a solid food-demanding machine. Thank goodness your mother is so good with the immersion blender, or you would have already eaten us out of house and home. Let’s talk about the number of baby-sized servings a $1.00 bag of carrots will make. Your likes: carrots, apples, sweet potatoes, pears, green beans, rice cereal, and oatmeal. Dislikes: peas, avocados, and bananas. This coming month, we embark on finding out more foods you like, and planning our summer garden beds in some coordination with your preferences.
You’ve been extremely patient, RR, with my comings and goings, up and down, back and forth, learning to drive the curves and straightaways of I-64 in my sleep. You, RR, are always on my mind. Yes, a little like Willie Nelson. But mostly, you and your mom are the reason I check, then double-check my blind spot. The reason I go the speed limit in the right lane. The reason both hands are on the wheel, and I limit the amount of driving with my knee. I always kiss you two goodbye, and I’m always so glad to see you both when I get home.
You learned to video chat this month, which was kind of awesome. Well, you didn’t say anything, but you did flail about uncontrollably when you could see me in the computer, waving and smiling.
Your using us more as a jungle gym lately, climbing around on us, hanging from various limbs. You also like to sit on your rump and rock back and forth when you get super excited. Or when there’s music on. You still very much like when I play the guitar for you and your mama and I sing your favorite songs. You’ve also taken to grabbing onto the head of the guitar when I play, as you can feel the varying vibrations when I strum. Last night, you held my guitar pick with your thumb and index finger when I handed it to you.
In your crib, when you’re not sleeping, or complaining about not being able to get to sleep, you’re kicking your legs like a crazywoman, and you can hear the THUMP THUMP THUMP’s from any room in the house. Just last night, however, you determined that you also do this in your sleep, so it’s not always an indication that you’re awake. Or upset. Or anything but… well, thumping.
You started swim lessons this past weekend, and for the next seven weeks, you’ll be floating on with nine other babies and their parents on Saturday mornings. RR, I’ll apologize in advance for the fact that you are a new generation, whose parents made poor shoulder tattoo choices when we were in college. The number of faded tattoo’s on the shoulders of swimsuit-wearing mommies and daddies was more than I was prepared for. One had a wolf, a few had foreign character/symbols. I, proudly, had the only band tattoo, however. Very hilarious.
You’re a delightful kid, RR. I’m proud that you are my daughter. I don’t even mind that, in lieu of giggling like a normal baby, you choose to suck in all of your breath and let out a high-pitched short squeal when you get really excited. I can’t wait for the weather to get warmer, to take you to the local farmer’s market, and take long walks with you, your mom, and the dog in the evenings when we get home from work. Until then, we’ll continue to enjoy each others company by the fireplace and over bowls of hot beef stew.