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6 Months. July 30, 2009

Posted by Julie Momster in For My Daughter.
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For the record, I SWEAR to you that this was written within 2 days of her “birthday”. The internet-picture-loading-fiasco is entirely to blame for the late publishing date. Pinkie Promise.

Beautiful Girl.

Beautiful Girl.

Where has the time gone, Little Miss? It seems like just yesterday you were so small I could lift you with my little finger (although I rarely did). Back when you were more easy to please, just give you boob and a snuggle, and you were my happy clam.

Sassy Face.

Sassy Face.

Now you’re getting to be such a big girl, with such a wonderful personality, all full of sass and cuteness and adorable baby cheeks NOM NOM NOM. You know what you want, and are very decisive about it. Occasionally Mama or Daddy can distract you with a squeaky toy or your music box, but if that’s not what you’re wanting, you will let us know instantly with your piercing pterodactyl screams, and we pretty much have to bow to your every little whim.

You tell him, baby Girl!

You tell him, baby Girl!

Have I never mentioned this scream? It’s not so much you screaming at us, as it is screeching at the top of your lungs in varying high-as-hell pitches. This is very effective when you feel your daddy is paying too much attention to his video games, and not enough to you. It’s hilarious to hear you figuring out the power in your voice, all the little inflections you’re realizing you can make. From little grumbles, to yelps, to screeches, and now consonant sounds! Oh, the little “bub-bub-bub-bub’s” that you do are so enchanting. And it’s great to watch you do it, because you’re always so surprised at the noises you are making.

Rockin' Out.

Rockin' Out.

You also learned how to blow raspberries, and now you’re favorite sound to make is the “pbbbthththth” when you purse your little rosebud lips together and blow. Every time you make this noise though, it starts out accidentally. This is instantly followed with a look from you that says, “Oh yeaaahhhh! I forgot about this one!”, which then turns into an hour long raspberry-blowing party, and Woo! Isn’t this fun?! 

With Great-Grandma Gouki, and Great-Grandma Shirley

With Great-Grandma Gouki, and Great-Grandma Shirley

You’re still my little center of attention. If you’re ever left alone (this includes micro-second intervals), you’ll begin to bawl, howling about how “The world is so cruel, and unfair, and why would you LEEEAAAVE MEEE!!! You don’t looooooove meeeee!”– at which point, I realize exactly how much you are like your father in that respect. But the moment I pop my head around the corner and call to you, you light up with one of your bright and perfect smiles. You’re never satisfied with the attention given to you. Ever. Luckily for your Daddy and me, you don’t really care who’s giving you lovin’s, as long as they’re doing it, and consistently as well – no diversions are allowed. The Asian is one of your favorites, even though she still hilariously refers to you as simply “the Baby”. Whenever she calls you that, you light up like a Christmas tree in July.

"You like me! You really, really like me!"

"You like me! You really, really like me!"

Your babysitter, Vicki, is also high on your list of favorites. Her, and her little boys, you hopeless flirt! Mason is especially enamored by you, and I’ve never seen you do anything except eat up the attention with a big ole’ spoon. It’s so sweet to come by to pick you up every day, and see you comfortably snuggled in with her and Mason on the couch. We got very lucky with her, not least because you adore her. That’s what we call a “bonus”, Little Miss Squeak.

This baby book also sqeaks, although not as loud as you.

This baby book also sqeaks, although not as loud as you.

You’re getting more mobile every day. You haven’t yet figured out how to crawl, but you’ve learned that if you just roll over enough times, you can get anywhere you want. I can look away for 5 seconds, look back, and you’ll have maneuvered your way from one end of the room to the other so that you can paw at the oh-so-soft suede of Mama’s book-nerd chair. 

My two favorite people.

My two favorite people.

This is why we removed our coffee table this past weekend, and replaced it with a huge area rug for you to play on. Although we do have to remove everything else from the floor aside from your toys – ever since Sunday when you scared the be-jeesus out of Mama by figuring out how to wrap your head tightly up in a blanket in 10 seconds flat. Never. Again. Not like you’ll ever stop scaring the crap out of me, but I digress.

Planning her course of destruction.

Planning her course of destruction.

 You love to sit up like a “big girl” to play with your toys, and are getting increasingly frustrated when we try to lay you down. Almost instantly after I place you on your back, you have already flipped over onto your tummy, and are on search of things to shove in your mouth. Your favorite toys are any and all toys that make noise. Your little music box is the house favorite – several different tunes so Mama and Daddy don’t go crazy, and the option to add or remove other instruments from the arrangement! Woo! I think your father would go insane if it looped incessantly with the same tune and no variation – and nobody wants that. Guaranteed. He whines louder than you do when he’s mad.

Baby and Music Box Of Love

Baby and Music Box Of Love

My Avienda, I fall in love with you a little more every day – I get a little more frustrated, a little more patient. I’m getting to know your quirks, your likes, your dislikes. For example, our A/C hasn’t been working right, so when the temperature in our apartment crept up to 92 degrees this weekend, I took you in for a nice cool bath. Nice, except for the screaming. But the second you realized, “Wait, it’s nice and cool in here, and I’m not sweating through my diaper, and I can play in the WATER!!”, you were perfectly content. And Mama’s fears of your roasting, even in all your pudgy baby nakedness, where squelched for the day.

Not so bad, huh?

Not so bad, huh?

I absolutely adore you, and I don’t even mind being one of “those Moms”. The one that spends their time following you around with a camera to record your every move, because I’m afraid to miss something, even just one of your smiles. The one that steals you away all the time, just for sweet hugs and a plethora of kisses. The one that is so besotted with her child, that I’m pretty sure I make other people a little nauseous.

Come on, though. Look at that little face!! NOM NOM NOM NOM

Come on, though. Look at that little face!! NOM NOM NOM NOM

I don’t care. I love you more than my own breath, and I look forward to every milestone following this.

avi42

Love, Mama

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