My sweet girl. Somehow there has been just enough evolution this month – a tolerance of babysitters, a desire to push off and crawl and climb – that I’m beginning to fear we’re nearing the end of our snuggling days. At least, the fervent snuggling days. The days of you grabbing my hair by the roots with both hands, burrowing your face into my cheek, taking a deep sigh and transforming from flailing and wild to calm, breathing my breath. You needed me so intensely and purely. And now, you’re just a little bit autonomous. Just a little, but there’s no going back.
I guess it comes from the moving. You are getting around these days, alternating between a true crawl and your classic inchworm, which you do so quickly you end up just throwing your chest onto the floor, like doing the butterfly, but on land. I can’t believe it doesn’t hurt your ribs. You chase me down if I leave the room, and do your best to follow J while she runs circles through the house.
You are so good at pulling yourself into standing, it’s kind of a problem. You like to sneak up behind me while I’m washing dishes, grabbing my jeans at the calves to pull yourself up, which leaves me unable to step or turn around to pick you up without knocking you back onto your butt first. You don’t seems to mind, though. You’ve had a taste of freedom, and it’s good.
Speaking of which, you’re a phenomenal eater. So far the only flavor I’ve found that you’re not into is dandelions. Seriously, you joyfully suck lemons dry, chomp on arugula salad, and partake in curry, asparagus, seaweed snack… you name it. We’re still nursing but I’m sure my supply has plummeted. It’s meant I’m feeling a little more human these days; my hormones are leveling out and, dare I say it, I think I’ve stopped losing my hair. And my patience. But it’s definitely contributing to this feeling that we’re becoming a little more separate every day. I’m finding it more upsetting than I thought I would.
You sleep like a champ. When you’ve had your fill of milk, you push me away, arch your back, and stretch your arms above your head, then relax in that exact position and go limp as I set you in your crib. If you’re not literally asleep as your head hits the pillow (ok, not pillow, mattress, but pillow sounds better), you just suck on your lower lip for a few minutes, sometimes make a few little cries, and then drift off. You usually only wake up once or twice, and we do the routine again, easy peasy.
You’re beginning to enjoy slapstick humor. The other day your dad was holding you, and he said you were pinching his neck, pinching all over until you hit a nerve and he yelped. You laughed and laughed and started all over, looking for the nerve this time.
In the last week, at least three people have commented on how you’re beginning to look like your child self. Maybe it’s your hair filling in, or a certain alertness in your demeanor, I’m not really sure, but we’ve definitely hit that point where it feels like I’m catching glimmers of you as a big kid.