Nah, I’m not talking about that of the breast variety. Lord knows I’ve sufficiently documented by adventures with that kind of bovine-inspired machinery.
I’m referring to Sunny learning to pump on a big girl swing, and little sister Courtland’s ingenious interpretation of this activity. It’s endless entertainment around Cartwheel Farm. Plus, you’ll get to hear my rendition of the “Kicky Kaks” song. Pretty inspired material, I know.
ourtland The Crawler,
Yes. It’s official. I get to alliterate to the heavens.
You are crawling. In fact, your movements are so pronounced and deliberate you remind me of a crawling baby robot. I half expect you to morph into one of those battery-charged Gogo my Walkin’ Pups that were all the rage in the early 90s. Each arm raise and knee pull are mechanical in nature. You’re this zombie crawler. Plodding steadily forward. Slow. Deliberate. Seeking out electrical wires. Fire place tools. Tiny, plastic PlayMobile guys. Your primary colored, choke-proof toys are merely a road block to your quest for all of the shiny hazards hiding in every nook of the house.
Between that and the house purchase, it’s been a momentous month. Which very well explains why this letter is nearly a week late in its composition. Between trying to move to Vermont and deterring you from jamming colored pencils down your throat, I’ve got my hands full. But with every passing day, you change more and more, so I’ve forced myself to sit down and write for fear that I’ll have forgotten these past four weeks if I let another moment go by. Just yesterday you pulled up. As in, to standing. As in, say WHAT?!? And while that’s technically a part of Month 9, I can’t help but mention it as both your father and I were rendered speechless and stunned. Do you know what a giant pain in the butt it is to lower your damn crib mattress?
You are coming into your own personality. Your face is changing into that of a baby girl, and not just my gender neutral infant. Your gums have sprouted two pearly whites. You “doh doh doh” and “ma ma ma” and “blah blah blah” as though you could rival the von Trapps and make Julie Andrews proud. You have a deep, guttural growl that you share with some regularity. Auntie Kimmy compared it to Simba’s attempts at roaring in The Lion King. An appropriate metaphor for this new linguistic adventure. While you may sound like a lion cub, you behave like your father’s favorite mammal. You’ve taken to violently wiggling your torso back and forth and back and forth while supported in a standing position. Sunny used to do a bit of wiggling side to side, but never with such drama and never like that of a dolphin. Perhaps it is that you are part Mermaid. After all, you so enjoyed your time floating in Ghillie and Ranger’s pool. And when you aren’t playing transformer baby, you rest from crawling slung on one side, arm resting on your hip like a cherubic Venus de Milo or Ariel perched atop her rock. Regardless of what creature or persona you are channeling, your daddy and I are delighting in experiencing all of these little quirks and developments that are so specific to you, my Aquatic Robot of the Sahara.
And best of all, you still think that I’m the most awesome person on Planet Earth. You’ve reached the point where you now collapse into hysterics as soon as I enter a room to ensure that I come and scoop you into my arms. And while I may be creating a spoiled little monster by buckling to these cries, you’re the sweetest, snuggliest, most endearing little monster I know. Once in my embrace, I feel your body relax and melt into my shoulders like a wet bag of sand.
We fit. Like a puzzle piece. Mother and child. And I don’t care how cliche that sounds, it is the truth. It’s as though my shoulder was made to house the nestle of your head. As though the fold of my neck was intended to absorb every coo and babble. As though our left cheeks were built to connect and freeze moments in time with every hug and embrace. Because despite all the chaos and life-altering changes of the past four weeks, you have the unmatched power to stop time in its tracks and tether me to the Earth with the kind of perspective and quiet I crave more than ever. Every time the puzzle pieces snap into place, I’m put back together. Made whole by the needs of my child.
Happy 8 months, Courtland. Thank you for being the piece that I didn’t even know was missing.
143 Mama
{Marley Play Set in Soft Pink: Redfish Kids; Socks: Trumpette}
This baby can now sit up unassisted. She knows how to activate those core muscle like a Pilates star. You should see her boat pose.
I wish I could make similar claims, but alas, postpartum recovery the second time around is proving more of a challenge than after the first. And I’ll never dare touch a jump rope. Ever again. No amount of kegeling can remedy that situation.
ANYWAY!
Now that Kaki can sit up – nay, go from lying down to sitting up ON HER OWN – we were able to snap pictures of her rocking the Marley Play Set from Redfish Kids. Equally as sweet and adorable as the dress Sunny wore a few weeks back.
And I cannot get enough of the puffy pants. Such fun!
My lord she is pale, JAMES.
I’m waiting for her to throw up that right leg in Jane Fonda like style.
Howdy, crawler!
Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart
Clothing: Courtesy of Redfish Kids
I’ve been working on this sweater for weeks. I loved the pattern the moment that I laid eyes on it. Something about the fan detail through the center… swoon.
I knit the sweater using a variation of the yarn I used for Sunny’s sweater jacket. Of course, I ran out of that particular color at the very end of the pattern. And rather than order up another skein, I used the leftovers from the jacket. So now the sweater has a band of purplish coloring happening across the top. Let’s pretend that was intentional, shall we?
As told by the model herself, I made the sweater in a size 2, knowing that Courtland would get more use out of it. While the sleeves are a tad long and the neck a bit wide, it’s not nearly as ginormous as a 2-year old article of clothing should be on a 7 month old body.
I’m very pleased to have finished this project before the complete onset of spring. I’m feeling ready to tuck away my needles for the season and turn my energies to a much grander endeavor. Details forthcoming…
But for the next two weeks, I’ve got to focus my evenings on preparing for the baby shower. If you follow me on Instagram, then you’ve already seen some festive decor cropping up around these parts.
You can find details about the sweater and the link to the pattern in my Ravelry projects here.
Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart
even months. How is that even possible, Courtland?
And yet, here you are, on the brink of crawling. Rolling, and flopping, and dragging your little body from one end of the room to the other. Contentedly playing and cooing and chewing on a sea of toys coating the carpet. You’ve become so comfortable being alone and unattended. I’m not sure how this happened, given how particular you were for the first half year of your life, but something shifted this month. We can plop you on the floor and you’ll joyously entertain yourself. Moving from one toy to the next, wildly squawking and causing quite the ruckus. Hanna looms over you, licking your face and watching your every move if Daddy or I leave the room to fold laundry or grab a snack for your sister. She’s your Nana Dog, and finds you as delicious as you find our spread of wooden mixing spoons that so entice you during dinner time.
And on that note, meals are now a proper family affair. You sit in the highchair like quite the big girl, drooling and teething and banging on kitchen utensils. Sunny sits at her table which we’ve pulled next to the dining room table. And there we are. A family of four. Eating. Talking about our days. While we don’t yet understand your contributions, they are always enthusiastic and expressed with much fanfare.
And here is where I take a moment to acknowledge that Daddy and I make very loud babies. You and Sunny, while different is so very many ways, share the same high pitched, abrasive screech and Scuttle-like squawk. I wrote about it here and here and here and this is by far Auntie Kimmy’s favorite video documenting this voice with your sister. You are no exception. After being around your new friend Alison, I was struck by how different you sounded from her and thus how notably similar your pitch and tenor is to your sister’s. I’ll take this as a sign that you all have inherited my abrasively loud voice. It’s genetic! The Voice That Roared has been passed on! LUCKY DADDY!
Now that you’ve surpassed the mid-year marker, you are generally more at ease and easy going. You’re content to babble and stomp in your Pack n’Play whether it’s before you’re ready for sleep at bedtime, or when you first awake in the morning. While you still wake at least once per night to nurse, you are always willing to be carted back to your bed and put to sleep for a few more precious hours. In fact, once this week you slept for over 12 hours straight. While my boobs could have crushed stone they were so engorged by this change of schedule, Daddy and I delighted in the potential for a life of uninterrupted sleep. We can tell you’re going to get there, and that is reassuring. I won’t have these big bags under my eyes forever! HURRAY!
I’ve noticed that this month you are far more cautious of strangers. While you once smiled wildly and unabashedly at every passing face, you now eye new people with reservation and caution. You make them work for those smiles – which are still as wide and bright as ever when finally offered. The smiles are so wide in fact that they cause your face to mold into a perfect little square – your cheeks scrunched up so high that your chin tucks up and under and your face takes the form of that right angled geometry.
Unfortunately, with this new stranger danger mindset, you are very unwilling to let new people hold you, and even protest when handed over to your beloved babysitter. Of course, as soon as Daddy or I leave the room, you are happy and delightful. You just want your voice heard. These days you are far more apt to voice your opinion about who lays hands on you than ever before.
And I suppose that’s all a part of growing up. While you are easier and more fun in some ways, you’ve become more challenging in others. And that’s just as it should be. Momar explained that as your children grow, it gets better and better. More and more complicated and complex, of course. But the rewards become much greater, thus the complexities worth the struggle.
And so I will revel in this time where I am still your most favorite face in The Universe. I will enjoy that my touch, my hands, my embrace is enough to melt away the tears and make everything right in your little world. And I hope that, while it will not always be so easy, I will always be that source of comfort. That I will always be your safe harbor. Because if I could, my daughter, I would ensure that your face were always in the shape of that delightful little square.
Happy 7 Months, baby.
143 Mama
I love this kid. Crazy much. She is a riot. And I owe her a birthday letter. STAT.
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James and I got a kick out of watching this video from January of 2010 last night.
And now look at what Kaki can do!
I don’t know what’s more shocking about these two videos. A. The profound difference in video quality in just two years time or B. The size difference of the two kids. Sunny is three weeks older than Courtland in her video. And yet Kaki looks notably bigger.
James, watch out, your daughters are going to out height you!
Alright! Enough whining and woe-is-meing! The covered in lies posts shall cease and desist. For now, at least.
I realize that what I’m going through is manageable. Overwhelming that so many of these things are happening in tandem. But again, manageable.
I needed a couple of days to wallow in my own self pity before I could sufficiently pull my head out of my ass and focus on the fact that it wasn’t diarrhea doing the forcing. Ayo! to my own personal wellness.
And now, I will take a bit of advice from my yoga baby, and get zen and centered. Ain’t nothing a little Child’s Pose can’t ameliorate.
Also? This face is way better than Prozac. And nearly crawling.
I realize that some of these are blurry – but they were too priceless not to share in full!
Photos: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart
That’s her “I-just-unloaded-lunch-all-over-Mama’s-bed” face.
She was feeling left out, so had to partake in the reverse peristalsis theatrics we’ve had going around this abode.
Also, this explosion was a quick way to end the Weekly Growth Series photo shoot. Sunny was very displeased with the resulting spit-up saturated hair.
Kaki found it hilarious.
Photo: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart
When I’m not cleaning up diarrhea and vomit and trying to figure out what is causing these explosions (Not liver disease! Not diabetes! Kidney infection? Leukemia? (I shouldn’t even write that word. It’s too terrifying. I need to stay the hell away from Google Rx and await the doctor’s call about the info in Sunny’s stool and urine sample. All we do know right now is that her white blood cell count is high and she’s been sick for going on four weeks. Weeee!) This situation has taught me and James the wonders of helping a toddler pee in a cup, poop in a hat, stomach a blood draw, and swallow adult prescription pills. It’s a barrel of health and wellness chez Cart! (Enough parentheticals! Even I’ve lost my train of thought so I can only imagine how this post is going for you. (Not well)))…
As I was saying, when I’m not playing Nurse Nancy, I’m marveling at our second born who can sit up unassisted for minutes at a time and can make her way across a room through a series of rolls and yoga poses and army crawls. We have a full blown baby in our midst. And it’s outrageously fun and adorable.
Behold! Because video of puke and feces isn’t nearly as endearing!
P.S. Now James is hanging close to the bathroom and I’m incapacitated by a period-induced migraine. Curses! *fist shaking to the sky*
After 16 months without, I’m less-than-pleased with Flow’s timing.
Happy weekend to us!