six months

dear claire,

happy half birthday. last year at this time i had just found out i was pregnant. i stood in the bathroom staring at a white stick with 2 bright blue lines staring back up at me. you took my breath away then and you continue to take my breath away now. it's amazing to think that just one year ago this week your heart had just began to start working. i remember the ultrasound tech pointing out to me the "beginning flickers of a heart beat" on the screen. you were smaller than a half of a pea, and yesterday you ate peas for lunch.

this month you've mastered the fine art of rolling over. its the most annoying milestone you've met thus far. i mean, ok... thumbs up and everything but practicing your new found talent at 1am... and 3am... and 6am... seems a little excessive. remember the good ole days when you used to sleep through the night? now every few hours you roll over, FLAIL AROUND AIMLESSLY, stick your arm and leg through the slats in the crib and wedge them in there until you can't move and then scream for help. you know what might help you? velcro.

horray for the mall! last week you made it through a 3-hour trip to the mall without completely losing it. you whimpered once when you dropped your pacifier and once when some crazy asian lady tried to squeeze you. other than that you were a perfect lady. im convinced that your sudden change in heart is a direct result of the fact that i purchased the babygap store in its entirety. you know whats good for you, don't you? clothing. pacifiers. diversity.

you really are getting a kick out of singing in the last few weeks. especially "the isty bitsy spider". that is your FAVORITE SONG. guess why? because its the only children's song i know. sorry. but to my credit, i can also do the hand motions that go along with it. you especially enjoy the part where the sun "dries up all the rain". my arms are over my head recreating the shape of the sun, and i lean from side to side to signify the "drying" of the rain. i don't even know. i think i may have made that part up, but it totally makes sense. this song makes you VERY happy. i try not to do it TOO often though, because i'm afraid that one day we'll be out in a public place and you'll start crying for me to do the song. then i'll sing it, and you'll cry harder because i'm not doing the hand motions. then i'll be forced to look stupid in public so that my screaming child doesn't turn blue from refusing to breathe. but i have a feeling i will get over this. much like i have gotten over my resistance to own "brightly colored things". i used to live in a very monotone world until you came along. now the living room looks like gay pride parade exploded. you are wearing on me. its only a matter of time before im sporting a disney jump suit and pink glitter shoelaces, running around clapping my hands and insisting that people to do things to show they are happy and they know it.

this month we gave you solids for the first time. WHY they call it "solids"... i do not know. it is quite un-solid if you ask me. following dr.'s orders we started with organic rice cereal. yu-um. you didn't love it. you were slightly confused, a bit disgusted, and completely intrigued by the cat for some reason. hello this is like the most important day of your life so far - eating something that doesn't smell like feet, and you are hypnotized by the stupid fat cat who sleeps in your bumbo. oh, the best part about the entire experience... just as i was about to sneak another spoon full of mush into your mouth - you turned your head and i jabbed you in the eye. and we caught it on video. some day when you stumble across the footage i will take you out to lunch as an apology. maybe i'll let you shovel something "solid" in my eye too.

so here we are... a half a year down. you are exiting "phase newborn" right before my very eyes. you totally kicked butt. major. you've quadrupled your weight. and you've quadrupled the size of my heart. thank god you did... otherwise i don't know where i'd keep all the love.

love you for another 140 half years baby,

-your mama