Once there were verbal toddlers and preschoolers in my house, I realized that babies are amazing. AMAZING. Yes, they are absolutely a lot of hard, practical, sleepless work, but it's just so different from the emotional toll of parenting the other very small, irrational, violent, mini-dictators that I live with.
Just look at that face!
That face will NEVER throw a bowl of frosted mini wheats on the floor because it's the PURPLE bowl and she wanted the ORANGE bowl. That face will NEVER tell me that all the other kids at preschool have light-up shoes and that she is going to be sad every day until I buy her hideous light up shoes. That face will never scream for the ENTIRE time she is in time-out, not because she is sad, not because she is hurt, but because HOW DARE YOU.
She will be perfect forever! I need to believe this! I will have her cryogenically frozen in time as a baby! She is light and joy and snuggles and cupcakes!
Rosie is now seven months old. Seven WHOLE months old. That's big in baby land. And, truth time, she is currently 95% light and joy and snuggles and cupcakes.
She's doing some awesome things, like laughing more and recognizing people and saying "bababababa" and starting to sit on her own. And, for the record, babbling and sitting up are two of my FAVORITE baby milestones. The babbling, simply because it's so freaking cute. The sitting because it makes babies so HAPPY to be able to sit on a blanket with toys. Way happier than laying on the blanket, that's for sure. Plus, once they're sitting up, it's only a matter of time before I can put swings and bouncy seats and other baby-holding devices back in the attic and win back some precious floor space.
But, despite all these lovely developments, at 7 months I am beginning to suspect that Esther Rose does have her own mini-dictator brewing inside her. I can tell. Every once in a while, it peeks through. She's most likely to show her sassy side in the dark of night.
Le sigh. Yes, that is an adorable baby girl. She is not asleep. She is not in her crib. We do not know why. (WHYYYYYYYYY?)
First she had a cold. Poor baby.
Then she cut a tooth. Poor sweetheart.
Then the #$%*&@ time change. Poor honeypumpkin.
Then... just... I don't know. I just don't know. She's up a lot. She wants to eat a lot. Sometimes she goes right back down, other times she's fussy. One night this week she slept for 11 hours straight and I wept with joy, and then the next night, she woke up four times to nurse. I just don't know. Poor mommy. Poor, poor mommy.
So, of course, I'm doing the classic Mommy brainstorm. Maybe it's another tooth! Maybe it's a growth spurt! Maybe she needs her third nap back! Maybe she should drop the third nap! Earlier bedtime! Later bedtime! Maybe if we all stand on our heads and sing Happy Birthday backwards in a round while praying the rosary with our toes!
Or, maybe she's just a baby. A (mostly) sweet 7 month old baby who prefers to be laying across a parent whenever possible. I'm no sleep expert or anything, but I think I may have just cracked the code on this one.
And then, food! Rosie is David's child for sure, becuase for the most part, she's unimpressed with food. As a food-lover, this is unfathomable to me. Oh, sure she acted interested at first. But once the novelty wore off, she settled into a habit of eating maybe 4-5 bites of whatever I offer, and then gnawing on the spoon, spitting out the food, and carefully massaging it into her ear hole.
Like Maggie, she much prefers to have little bits of things to put in her OWN mouth, thank you very much. But her pincer grip, while impressive for her age, is still not quiiiiiite accurate enough to get that many calories into her mouth at any given time.
She does LOVE the little mesh pouch thing, so I fill that with all sorts of goodies and let her go to town on it. I like to believe that counts as eating.
But her favorite part of solid foods thus far? Far and away the best thing her mother has provided her with?
Puffs. Nutrient-void, sugar-added, stupidly-overpriced Gerber puffs. She loves them. THAT'S how you can tell she has my genes, too. Us carb-lovers gotta stick together, Rosebud.
Other than mysterious sleep patterns and refusing 99% of calories that do not come directly from her mother, Rosie also has decided that it's high time for a bit of separation anxiety. If she notices that I am not in the same room as her, she is unhappy with me. If she notices that someone other than me is holding her, she is unhappy with me. I tried to explain to her that yes, we are best friends, duh, but sometimes even besties need some space.
She fundamentally disagrees. (refer back to: preferring to sleep on top of me, eat only from me, be held by only me. Besties!)
However, despite her budding tiny-dictator traits, I'm confident that we will continue to love her forever and ever, as is the habit of parents everywhere. So far, we still love her brother and sister and they have totally perfected their dictatorialness.
You do have to respect their ingenuity, yes?
Plus, I gotta say, Henry and Maggie both slept through the night last night, which is more than I can say for SOME people around here...