Oh six months. It had been looming and getting larger every day, now it's here. Six months, you and I were on okay terms last Thursday, the actual day of Dani's half, until Mila started messing with my mom's iphone and replayed an old, old video from the last days in our California apartment. Dani is just a few weeks old in it, still all squinty and wrinkly and snuggly--and that's when I had to look six months square in the eye. No, she's not a newborn anymore, and she's got delicious fold after delicious fold in her thighs and arms to prove it.
I'm so in love with this girl. She's still so easy, despite teething and the occasional fussy bouts. She already doesn't have to nurse to sleep (say whaaaaat) but will do this verbalizing ahhhAHHHHAAAAAHHHH thing until she finally jerks her head to the right and it's lights out. I can decipher her cries now and her hungry cry is the same as Mila's was---a frantic huffing as she impatiently waits for me to pull it together and feed her already, doggoneit. She still poops and farts like a trucker (although for the record I have no idea how a trucker poops and farts---sorry, stereotypes), she always with a smile on her face...and one more tidbit, loves loves LOVES her papa. He is #1 in her eyes. Steve and I joke that she's planning on self-weaning very soon in order to be with him 24/7. Sometimes at night I'll stay up late (okay usually) and when her and I hit the hay she takes a long, soulful glance at his side of the bed to make sure he's still there. As if she can't hear him snoring! But I digress.
She has recently started to scoot a couple feet here and there. Not quite army crawling, more like a disjointed push-and-pull thing of all four extremities, but still. Slow down little girl. I hold her on my hip, she settles right into that soft fleshy part on my tummy that I haven't exactly lost since giving birth six months ago (oops). And we go about our day. We sit at the table together while Mila chatters it up during breakfast in the morning and I inhale my cup of coffee. We hang out on our new stripey blanket, or our patchwork quilt, I hover her above me doing Giant Baby (I'm a giiiiiiiaaaaant, flyyyyyying, hooooooovering, drooooooooling baby said in a booming voice. Big smiles every time.)
She's sitting for short periods of time. Again, stop it.
A few of her favorite things at the moment: the squish toy, or chewbeads, or a cold spoon...anything that can be put in her mouth, really. Guitar playing from Steve. My boobs. Standing and being "walked"--that always makes her so proud and delighted. I love to clear the dinner table and dance with her at the same time. Her nighttime song is Shenandoah (Mila's was Edelweiss). Oh, and she's also pretty wild about her sister. I'll never forget the moment a few weeks ago when Mila was spinning around in her pajamas and Dani started laughing. Chortling. Isn't that a funny word? But that's how I would describe it, a deep chortle-cackle that comes from someplace low in her belly. This girl's gonna be a good one, I can tell.
At night she sleeps in her swing for a good four to five hours before I bring her to bed. This is huge. Thank you Dani! I know I need to wean the swing soon, it's always worked and you know what they say about things that aren't broke. But she's coming up on its weight limit and the swing's been promised to another baby on the way anyway, so in the next few weeks we'll work on getting her to start off the night in her crib. When she needs to nurse at night I'll just bring her into bed. I don't need her to sleep through the night just yet--we've got a good thing going with her nursing as I'm 98% sleeping.
Hear that, universe? Don't rush me. She's still my baby.