Happy eight months, little mama. You’re in the second percentile for weight! Believe it or not, this is an improvement. You’re crawling now, so your daddy and I need to step up our babyproofing efforts (i.e., no more whiskey on the bottom shelf). You go from tummy to sitting or standing with ease. You love to cruise around the perimeter of your play yard while hollering for someone to rescue you. George is still very protective, but he keeps his distance given your penchant for hair pulling. You almost always look surprised. I think it’s your eyebrows. Though you drool and […]
Happy seven months, little mama. You weigh twelve pounds, fifteen ounces, give or take a poop. You finally doubled your birth weight during your sixth month. You’ve sprouted rolls on your wrists, dimples on your knuckles and an amazing double chin. Your daddy and I rarely call you by your given name. It’s a terrible habit, and I’m afraid you’ll grow up thinking that your name is “baby” or “mama” or worse, “tummy tiiime!” You love your feet so much that you sucked the skin off the side of your big toe. Now that you’re standing (supported) and sitting (unsupported), you […]
Happy five months, little mama. This post is six days late, but the photo was only five days late! So there’s that. This month was a doozy. You stopped gaining weight toward the end of April and got a G-tube on May 6. The results have been mixed, but you now weigh 11 pounds and change. Your cheeks are chubbier and your thighs are chunkier. I always thanked my lucky stars for how little you spit up, but I’ve since realized that you simply weren’t eating enough. Now you spit up at the drop of a hat. I much prefer […]
Happy four months, little mama. You hit ten pounds this month! You love to blow raspberries and suck on your fingers. You are frequently mistaken for a boy due to your lack of hair. You love my sweet lullabies, especially “Who Let the Farts Out,” sung to the tune of “Who Let the Dogs Out” by the Baha Men.