7 Months

Dear Kellen,

Seven months. Seven months? Seven?! How the hell did that happen?!

You have grown so much in these past seven months (seven?!), and it seems to me that all of those new skills are converging to make you a superbaby, one that can roll around an entire room and is beginning to communicate.

Your babbling has skyrocketed to a whole new level. Once you got those teeth - OHMYGOD THIS MONTH YOU GOT TEETH, THOSE TEETH, THOSE LITTLE PEARLS OF PAIN IN YOUR MOUTH THAT MAKE YOU SQUIRMY AND SAD- you started making  "thhh" and "fffff" noises. I keep trying to coax you into turning a "thhhh" into "Thhhank you mama, for putting up with me while I fussed and whined and cried through getting THOSE LITTLE PEARLS OF PAIN!" We're working still on it.

The "thhh" and "ffff" are accompanied by "mamama" (guess who jumps up and down enthusiastically every time you make that noise?) and "dadadadaaaa" and "babbaba" and a million other sounds that mark the beginning of you learning to speak. I know it will be awhile until you fully realize that these sounds have meanings, that making certain sounds will get you things besides just attention. But sometimes I listen to you babble and I can just imagine what it will be like to have an actual conversation with you. What is going on in that giant head of yours? I can't wait to find out.

By the way, I know it's not your fault that you have to get teeth. And unfortunately, once the whole set rips its way into your mouth, you get to lose them all in a few years and have a new set rip its way through your gums! Yay! Don't worry, that's the only part of growing up that isn't super fun. Ha.

You are attempting to crawl. It is obvious that you know what you want to do ("MUST. GET. SQUISHY TURTLE."), but you have absolutely no idea how to do it yet. OK, that's not totally true. You can get on your elbows and knees, but only if your face is smashed into the floor. I find it hilarious, you find it immensely frustrating. I can't say I blame you. Don't worry Kelly, you will figure it out soon. I just know that one day soon you will lift that big dome off the ground and crawl to your precious squishy turtle, I will squeal with delight and pride, and then I will think to myself "Oh  $&*#."

Below is a short video of a couple of hikes we did while in Eastern Washington and Oregon. We went to watch your uncle David graduate from college and then to visit your uncle Drew in Portland, and while we planned to camp a few nights the weather did not cooperate. Instead we decided to take you out to nature for some day hikes. Little man, you loooove nature. Sitting high on your dad's back in the carrier, you have a grand view of the wonderful sights nature has to offer. Every so often I would sneak a look at you, sometimes finding you smiling or giggling while reaching your hand out to touch a stray branch. Other times you were just looking, eyes wide with wonder. Whenever you caught me peeking at you, your face would break into a huge grin that told me you were happy, and then you would return to smiling at the trees. A friend recently remarked that taking a child on a day hike can be as epic as a 10 day backpack, and I couldn't agree more. I have found myself paying more attention to the world because of the special consideration that you give each and every detail. This is a truly special gift you have given me.

Your first six months came and went in a whirlwind. A blob to a tiny smile to a bat at a toy to a coo to a roll...and now to the beginnings of a little boy. Your father and I look at you now and we can see tiny glimpses of the little kid that you are going to become. You are our little miracle and we love you so much. So so much.

Love,
Mama

6 months

To my Kelly Belly,

6 months old. Your father and I can't believe it. How did we get here so fast?! When you were first born, every day felt like an eternity. 6 weeks sounded old. Yet here we are, halfway to celebrating your first year. This has been a big month for you! We had to stop swaddling you because you kept Houdini-ing out of the wrap we would put you in to sleep. We would find you tangled up and looking at us like "C'mon guys, I'm not a 2 month old anymore". Every so often you wake us up because you have rolled onto your belly and get stuck, and lord knows it would be ridiculous to sleep on your stomach! Oh, no, why just sleep on your stomach when you have parents who will come flip you over? You have mastered going from your back to your stomach, which is very exciting indeed. This means you can reach any toy within a foot radius and that you can change your perspective in seconds. Somewhere along the line though, you have forgotten how to flip over to your back. How does that happen? You spent most of your 3rd month happily rolling from your stomach to your back, and now that you can go the other way that knowledge seems to have up and vanished out of your baby brain. Where did it go? Is it coming back? It would reaaaally help your parents sleep if you could dig deep and remember how to do it.

On the whole though, you are a great sleeper. You have gotten into a fairly routine nap schedule that begins with a one or two hour nap right around 9 am. This is the perfect time for me to wash my face, make some coffee, and sit on my ass and read a magazine do some housework. You generally have another nap around 1pm, and then one in the early evening. You're in bed between 7:45 - 8:00, leaving your father and I some nice QT.  6 nights out of 7, you sleep straight through until 7:30 or so, allowing us to get in at least 8 hours of sleep ourselves. Oh Kellen, we are aware of how lucky we are. Some of your baby friends are still waking every few hours, and we can't believe we're among the lucky few who get a baby that sleeps through the night so early. It appears that you love sleep as much as your parents.

You are silly fun to play with, and have graduated from being a bitty one that needs to be shown toys to a big baby that loves to interact and figure things out. Smiles, coos and babbles (your favorite sound being "ma-ma", of course) wash over us as you lay on your play mat or sit in your bouncer. We have such fun teasing you and trying to make you giggle, and when we are rewarded with your parrot-like sqwak of a laugh, it's all we can do not to burst with happiness. Our favorite game? Startling you. You LOVE to be startled. We're not talking a gentle "Boo! Teeheehee!" either. You love when I full out lunge at you yelling "BOO! HAHAHAHA!", causing your whole body to jump, your eyes to fly wide open, and a huge giggle to escape from your mouth. I absolutely HATE when that level of startledness (not a word, I know) happens to me, it's part of the reason I don't watch scary movies, but you must be a much braver human than I because you absolutely delight in this game. I am convinced you will be ten years old, watching terribly scary movies with your Uncle Geoff and Aunt Shalie, all of you giggling together at startling moments that no normal human being would find entertaining.

Each week you and I meet up with a group of 9 or so women and their babies, women who have become my friends in my quest to be a good mother to you. All of their children are within a month of your age and are a complete joy to be around. I was watching you when we were with them the other day, and it became apparent to me how much of an observer you are. While most of the little ones were rolling around, banging toys and smiling at each other, you laid quietly, clutching a little toy cup, tiny smile on your face, eyes bouncing around the room. Every once in a while you would pick up a new toy or change your position to look at a different part of the play mat, but for the most part you just watched intently, learning all sorts of things I could never begin to guess. In this way you seem so much like your father, happy to sit back and see what unfolds in front of you (while looking handsome and debonair, of course).

I always tear up at the end of these letters, trying to think of a way to close them while expressing to you how important you are to me and how much joy you bring me. I could repeat myself a thousand times over, and probably will throughout your life, all with the hope that you will always, always know how much I love you.

BOO!


Love, Mama