6 Months

Dear Addison,

Today you’re 6 months old! That seems so huge to me. A whole half of a year with the cutest, sweetest baby around.  This month has been a little scary just because of how much you’re changing. You can almost crawl. Seriously, not even 6 months old yet, and you can get around a room like a pro. It involves a combination of rolling over and lots of getting on your hands and knees and scooting, but you can cover some ground. Your favorite destination is basically anywhere Ringo is. And I don’t know if it’s out of love, curiosity, or his primal kitty need to pounce and kill, but that damn cat will sit juuuuust out of arm’s reach from you wherever you are. In the mornings, you sit on the bed in your Bumbo and play with your spoons (both wooden and plastic measuring), and Ringo is right there. I think he is intentionally egging you on, daring you to venture too close to his kitty lair, trying to show you that he still has some form of control here in the house that he used to rule. That used to be HIS wooden spoon, you know, and the woman snuggling you at night used to be HIS bedfellow.

So far, he just runs away when you get too close, which is definitely better than the alternative. And I know you just want to love him. Desperately. You want to pet his downy kitty fur and play with his soft ears and you will stare him down, almost willing him to come closer. You guys will stare at each other, you with big, bright, curious eyes, and Ringo with big, wide, terrified eyes, both of you sensing that soon, you’ll be able to crawl and chase that cat you so desperately want to love. Just one of the many reasons I am not super excited about your quick development in this area of mobility.

Ringo is the tip of the babyproofing iceberg in this tiny little mess we call home. We may wind up selling everything we own because I don’t know what else to do when you start crawling. There’s no place to put things so they’ll be out of the way, no “junk room”, no extra closet. We don’t have enough room to contain the things we have now, which is why there’s crap all over the place, so how are we going to hide all of it from you when you start crawling? And it’s not like we’re hanging on to unnecessary things. We’ve culled our belongings more times than I can count since we moved into this house. But I think we’re going to have to take a vow of austerity and live without any decorative objects of any kind. Or maybe we’ll just suspend everything from the ceiling and turn our house into a giant baby mobile. Rock Band drum set over the sofa, your dad’s CD cases taped to the ceiling, and candles magically floating a la Hogwarts. That can happen in real life, right?

You’ve started eating real food: rice cereal, cantaloupe and banana so far. As evidenced by your voluptuous thighs, you are a fan of all foods you meet. You are so fun to feed, watching globs of baby cereal streaming down your face while you smack your little gums. Or when you grunt with impatience between bites of banana. Of course, introducing new foods to you means introducing new kinds of poop to your diaper. Your dad and I can both assure you, that’s not as much fun.  And that’s all I have to say about that.

Your personality is so much different this month. You’re still as happy as always, constant smiles, full of laughs, but there’s something deeper behind your eyes, like you’re understanding and processing more information. I can see you becoming more mature, less of a baby, and it’s amazing to watch. I mean, don’t get me wrong: totally makes me want to slit my wrists a little to see my little baby growing up, but I love watching the cool little person you’re becoming.

Part of that cool little person you’re becoming will take naps in your crib. Can  I hear a “Hallelujah!”? I think this is entirely your Abuelita’s doing, because when you’re at her house, that’s kind of the only option, which is good for you. You will nap for HOURS at their house in Sarah’s crib, and Marisol actually put you two in there together last week. Heartbreakingly cute pictures followed. Thanks to your crib experience, I can now put you down in your crib here at home when you nap during the day. Our record so far was 2.5 hours Friday evening. And what did I do in my 2.5 hours of freedom? Something productive? Of course not! I ate dinner like a normal person, one without a baby attached to her. Then I watched some of my shows that had piled up on the DVR while worrying you weren’t breathing and getting up about every 20 minutes to watch your chest rise and fall.  (I’m hoping that you didn’t get my tendencies toward completely obsessive anxiety when you received my part of your genetic cocktail, by the way.)

It’s pretty astounding to look back 6 months and think about how many changes have happened. We’ve seen two new little baby girls born this month, and it makes us nostalgic for when you were only a newborn, so helpless and small. It also makes us realize how far we’ve all come since then. One of the coolest things is looking at you and knowing that you know who I am, that you get excited when I walk into a room. It feels like now you’re not just dependent on your dad and me, but you actually like us. It’s the best feeling around.




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