Month 5.
aki baby,
My adorable 5 month old. The 5 month old who sits up, eats solid foods, rolls over, and wears size 9-12 month clothing… so really, not a 5 month old at all.
SLOW DOWN, KID. I’m struggling to keep up. To store it away in my memory bank to recall the sense of awe and pride I have in watching you turn into a completely awesome and wondrous little person.
Admittedly, it may feel like such a challenge in part because your father and I are still stumbling around in a sleep-deprived haze, so it’s tough enough to keep up with the day-to-day, let alone the astounding rate with which you have hurdled over each developmental milestone. But my, sleep is such a very boring topic, isn’t it? Like discussing the weather or a diet. Topics that seep into everyday conversation but truly are of little interest to the receiving party. I’ll leave it at this. You have good days. You have bad days. Days where your Daddy and I get a taste of what life might be like functioning with a fully charged battery. And days when we light bags of oatmeal on fire.
Such is life with a baby.
As long as you keep offering those generous smiles of delight when you see my face, I’ll keep sopping up the spit up and wiping your bum. No matter the hour.
And let me just say that now that you are an adept consumer of solid food both the bum wiping and spit up sopping have gotten far more interesting. And colorful.
And yes, you are a wee bit young to have solids like apple sauce and cereal and butternut squash enter your baby digestive system, but it’s been clear from month 3 that food fascinated you. You sit in your Bumbo, atop the kitchen table, while the rest of us consume our daily meals, all the while smacking and drooling and mimicking our mouth movements. I mentioned this to your pediatrician and she said that there was no harm in offering some cereal anytime after month 4. If you didn’t like it or weren’t interested, you’d let us know.
And given your siren-like wails whenever we attempt to feed you from a bottle, we knew what we might be in for.
We prepared for the screaming the first time we shoved a spoonful of oatmeal in your mouth, and it never came. Instead you licked your lips and thrust your mouth at the spoon again and again, demanding that your Daddy keep up a very rigorous scooping pace to accommodate your love of this feeding routine. We just can’t seem to shovel fast enough. Your new babysitter (who, I might add, you have taken to like a champ, and who, in return, seems quite taken with you) also commented on the desperate joy you exhibit while eating. You coo and flap your arms and begin fussing the moment the spoon is removed from your mouth until the moment it reenters, refilled with the mushy gushy stuff you so adore.
As utilized very clearly while you eat, you are now quite vocal and skilled at expressing your desires through a series of squeaks and squawks and coos. In this regard, you are much like your sister. The sound of your screeches and blah blah blahs and spit-filled raspberries and oral experimentations remind me very much of Sunny at this age. I assumed that that was a standard part of this developmental stage, but a friend who came out to LA and helped with Addison around month 5, and who babysat you in late December while your Daddy and I attended a wedding, commented on how uniquely “Cart” those noises and sounds were.
I love that.
Even when it’s demanding my attention at 4 o’clock in the morning.
Mostly, I adore that this month you’ve taken to reaching out your baby hands to cradle my face. I suppose that at this stage,you reach out your hands to hold everything, and then dramatically shove whatever that “thing” is into your mouth because we’re fully embedded in the oral stage. But when it is my face that you are reaching for, I melt inside. You’ll hold both sides of my cheeks and look into my eyes and let loose the wildest and drooliest of smiles. It’s unabashed. And so genuine and pure in its delivery. Then, violently, you’ll bury your head into my neck and curl your legs and arms into your chest as though you are trying propel your little body inside of me. I love holding you in that moment. Your face pressed against the edge of my neck, your body tucked against my clavicle. Feeling your need for me.
Because, sweetheart, I promise, I need you so much more than you’ll ever need me.
Happy 5 months, baby.
143 Mama
