Blog a la Cart

Month 6.

My Whaley cute girl,

How on Earth are you a half year old? Six whole months? 26 weeks? 182 days? I am struggling to wrap my head around this fact. And yet everything about you screams of a person who has been in the world such a lengthy period of time.

The way that you’re on the brink of sitting up without any assistance. Although, admittedly, you collapse with great fanfare when your bobbley baby head throws off your center of gravity. I have a feeling that in 30 days time, however, you’ll have mastered control of this disproportionate appendage.

And then there’s the way that you cry out when I leave the room or Daddy releases you from his arms and it’s clear that you understand that you are suddenly without us and want to make us return. It’s a cry of such awareness that of course you have six months under your belt!

Or the way that you flap your arms dramatically by your side like an angry baby bird (did I just call you an Angry Bird? I did indeed) and then claw and clutch my shirt or my skin or my hair, or really anything within your reach, while nursing. And may I take this opportunity to state that you have quite the mighty grip for someone of only 16 lbs. I have bright red marks on my skin from your baby hands. I don’t remember this being quite as extreme an issue when your big sister was a nursling, and yet I find myself constantly fending off your mighty paws and long, lovely fingers in the name of irritation-free skin. Apparently, you have a thing for Wolverine. I admit that you are not alone in your love of Hugh Jackman. In fact, Mommy will share the story of her and Momar’s run in with that beautiful man later in your life. But could we try not to emulate his X-Men character quite so accurately? Thank you.

This month we put solid food on hold as between traveling to New Orleans and then a marathon series of colds and thus mucus and thus epic baby vomit (not just spit up) coming through the house, we shelved the cereal and are going to try to reintroduce solids now that your mighty smoker’s cough is subsiding. I feel like you have had a faucet for a nose ever since you arrived and I’m sorry that that is the price you pay for having a preschool attending sibling. I keep trying to remember that this will give you a mighty immune system for when you begin school, but when I’m siphoning a bulb’s worth of boogers from your nose to the harmonies of your screams and wails of misery, it can be tough to keep the bigger picture in sight. But we’ll both be grateful. One day.

You’re still a fitful sleeper, although since I’ve chosen to go totally and completely caffeine free, the restlessness has improved. Unfortunately, I don’t know which form of sluggishness is worse – that of a caffeinated mama awoken every 2 hours by her fitful babe, or that of a sleep-deprived mama going through caffeine withdrawals. Because while your sleeping has improved, you still wake at least once in the middle of the night and require a lengthy nurse and some comforting before you go back to sleep. I do hope that with improved health and some solid foods this 1am nurse will disappear, but until then, I’ll be channeling the characters from The Walking Dead. Yeah, the zombies. Your big sister keeps making comments on how “crimpy” (i.e. greasy and uncombed) my hair is, but you don’t seem to notice. As long as the boob produces milk, you’ll love me most in the whole wide universe, even if I’m mimicking the undead.

And that is what I want to talk about most. I am, undoubtedly, your most favorite person in the world. And I’m not going to for a second pretend that I am not loving and soaking in every moment of that. It has become glaringly apparent just how much you adore me. And I realize that I have a certain leaky appendage (okay, two) that account for this adoration, but I’ll take it. I now walk into a room and you literally quake with delight. Your entire face explodes in a gum-filled grin and you make your excited “nurse noise” (a term we coined with your sister because she made a similar “ah ah ah” sound when she wanted to nurse) but you do it to just express your joy at seeing me. You could have a full belly of milk, and I might depart the room for 5 minutes and return to find you squirming and thrusting and shoving and nurse noising yourself toward my person. You lunge out of your babysitter’s arms or roll dramatically on the floor toward me whenever I enter, and it never ceases to make me feel like a total rock star. “Crimpy” hair, caffeine-withdrawals, puffy eyes, and all.

And while I certainly receive the brunt of your affections and attention, you continue to hold the title for the most smiley baby I have ever encountered. Strangers comment constantly on the ease with which they elicit smiles from your drooly lips. You daddy mentioned the other day that he almost takes for granted your constant stream of grins and giggles and utter expressions of happiness. He always finds himself horribly disappointed when the mere passing of eyes does not cause the room to expand from the girth of your smile. It’s so rare that you NOT smile, that we’re always taken aback when it happens, when we actually have to put in some work for the grins.

The other day, you lay on your changing table, bare bummies in the breeze (as is a frequent state of affairs for all the Cart women) and I stood over you, giggling and cooing and kissing and restraining myself from gobbling you whole by the light of the afternoon sun. You in turn sighed and laughed. You locked eyes. You grabbed my hands.  You put out into the world only goodness and sweetness and that amazing baby innocence that cripples me with much needed perspective and peace. Your daddy emerged in the middle of our giggle fest and said, “I feel so lucky to have just witnessed that.”

I want you to know that that is how you make me feel all the time.

Happy 6 months, baby girl.

143 Mama

Currently Gawking

Ursa needs to be a part of this series. She’s arguably part seal.

IMAGES: Courtesy of Little Friends

Currently Playing

This. I wish more Republicans, nay, I wish more PEOPLE, could hear this, believe this, and speak this.

Toilet Paper Roll Heart Stamp // made with love

As promised, here is another tutorial that Sunny and I tackled together last weekend. This was such a fun activity for her, and really easy to manage as the parental supervisor.

We created a heart stamp using a toilet paper roll and a piece of Scotch tape. Don’t you love a DIY when it is honestly that basic? I sure do!

I poured some of Sunny’s washable paint onto a piece of wax paper and let her get to stamping. We stamped some sheets of paper and then some old grocery bags to make wrapping paper for James’ Valentine’s Day present.

I’m grooming Sunny to be the ultimate crafter, can’t you tell?

A sweet, lovely DIY that gives such a nice effect.

Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart