Dear Charlie-boo,
Today you are six months old. It is hard to believe that it’s been that long since I laid down on an operating table, more scared than I’d ever been in my life after being told that preeclampsia and gestational diabetes were necessitating a 39-week c-section. You came out screaming and peeing. I liked your attitude from the very first breath you took.
Since then, I’ve been consistently amazed at how you are the perfect combination of me and your daddy. You have his olive skin tone, nicely shaped nose, and easy-going nature. And from me you got those blue eyes, blonde (we think) hair, and a generous helping of spunk. When you are hungry, look out, but at most other times you are just happy to check out every single thing around you and have a babble conversation with whoever happens to be there.
(Okay so maybe you are even more like your mother than I’d originally thought.)
I don’t want to be the mother who tells everyone how brilliant her baby is, so I’ll just say that you are right on target but that I’m still incredibly impressed by everything you do. You roll over like a pro. Feeding yourself a bottle is old hat by now. It seems like you instantly went from eating one serving of rice cereal to eating half a dozen types of homemade baby purees three times a day. You grab and manipulate objects instead of just raking them towards you, including the spoon with which I feed you. You can quit doing the spoon thing any time, though. It’s sort of messy.
Daddy and I are animal lovers. We’ve rescued three cats and a dog, and we care for feral colonies on our city block. You’ve recently started to take notice of our indoor pets and, to our delight, you love interacting with them and they don’t seem to mind that your idea of petting is to grab a hunk of fur and pull. Our dog, Brooklyn, has always charged himself with protecting us. However, his insistence on sleeping at the foot of your co-sleeper and staying as close to your stroller as possible when we take family walks indicates to us that he wishes to protect you most of all. We don’t blame him at all for wanting to keep you safe.
I can tell there is language in that little noggin of yours and it is just dying to come out. Your babblings have become increasingly more purposeful. These days, it feels as if you are trying to pronounce something but can’t quite figure out how to make your mouth cooperate. When I sing you songs or read a book, you study my face with such intensity! And even though I’ve gotten some crazy stares, I continue to have one sided conversations with you wherever we go and whenever I find something interesting to describe to you.
I’m betting you don’t know this, but I’m especially grateful that you’ve made it so easy for me to go back to work. You settled in to daycare with no problems and your developmental explosion over the last three months has shown me that it was the right choice for you. You love interacting with your “bro crew” of three other infant boys and you genuinely adore the group of women who expertly oversee the classroom. We continue to pass some wonderful daycare germs among the three of us, but I seem to be the one whose stuffy nose and cough are lingering. You, on the other hand, smile through all the snot, hacking fits, and buckets of drool.
You smile through most things, actually. And that’s one thing that I hope will never change about you. I hope that you will keep flashing that half-adorable-half-mischevious grin, even when circumstances aren’t ideal. I’m so proud of the little person you are becoming and feel honored that I get to be the mommy who watches you develop. Keep up the good work, kiddo.
Happy half-birthday, my sweetest pea.
Love,
Mommy
Join 21,459 fellow moms
1,891 readers
13,760 followers
5,808 fans