James turned seven months old a few weeks ago and he is making life crazy, in so many ways. I know that technically, he’s been closer to his first birthday than his Birth Day since December 2nd, but saying that I have seven-month old somehow makes that more real. How is it possible for the past seven months to have passed this quickly? He started crawling shortly after his half birthday, and hasn’t slowed down since. Full speed ahead is basically all he knows so our days are a little crazy. He’s moves incredibly quickly for a baby. I’ll look away for a second or two and when I turn around he’ll be trying to stand up at the screen door. He definitely keeps things from getting too boring around here. He’s pulling himself up on everything he possibly can, and on a few things that he shouldn’t be, so I’m constantly rushing over to keep him from falling head first onto the floor. I know, I know, kids are resilient, but if I can prevent a few head bangs when I see them coming, I’m happy to. And not only is he standing up on everything, he’s trying to stand alone. He’s obviously still very wobbly, but he keeps trying. And falling. And trying again. I hope he always has such confidence that, with enough practice, he can do anything he sets his mind to. I’m torn between wanting him to walk sooner rather than later, and hoping that he holds off for a while because I don’t want to have to chase down a running baby who doesn’t understand most of the words that I say to him! He is still incredibly smiley and I love the way his face lights up when I smile at him. He’s got four teeth now, and another one is close to coming in. They are coming in fast and furious and they are making our nights a little rough. We did some sleep training and it seemed to work and he got to the point where he could put himself back to sleep in the middle of the night, but now we’re back to doing whatever I can to get him to sleep. He wakes up tugging at his ears and instead of looking like a drunk sailor about to pass out, I can tell that he needs me. And maybe some tylenol.
His eyes are still blue, bluer than Stella’s. Wes always wanted blue-eyed children and before we had kids I used to ask him where he thought he was going to get these blue-eyed children because my family is brown brown brown. The only person who has blue eyes is my paternal grandmother, but my mom’s genes dominated so I didn’t think I’d have any blue gene to pass on. Now that we have two blue-eyed kids, which everyone compliments, I like to point out that I’m the reason they both have blue eyes. He gets into everything that can possibly be gotten into. I put out a box of baby toys and he heads straight for a pair of shoes. I hand him a piano to bang on and he pulls my hair. He’s exploring everything and doesn’t care if you want him to have something, he wants something else. He is strong-willed already.
He likes to eat whatever you’re eating. This apple in my hand? No thanks, I need that apple in Stella’s hand. I remember giving advice to friends with younger kids about eating back when Stella was just over a year old, or when James was just a few months old, but now that we’re in the food stage, it’s like I’ve never been here before. How much does he need to eat? What should I avoid? How big should the bites be? It’s all new again and I can’t wait until we’re done with this stage of things and onto eating without worrying what will upset his stomach or cause an allergic reaction or possibly make him choke.
He looks very much like Wes, but smiles more and already eats more vegetables than his dad (that was Wes’ joke). I could probably count on my fingers how many times I’ve slept through the night since he was born, but this kid’s demeanor when he’s awake makes it almost worth it. If he snuggled half as much as Stella did, it would be totally worth it. Love you, kiddo.