This weekend my littlest little became all of that twisty curvy number of eight. Eight months that is. And though we’ve been in the throes of teething, those top two pearly whites are taking their sweet time breaking through, every one of his many smiles, every laugh, every time he babbles what I pretend to be mama, though it sounds much more like bababababa, it’s all so immensely worth it.
And it’s to this precious one that I write today, and this time with few words, because my emotions run blood deep, and my words aren’t quite enough….
How has it been only eight months when you have so fully made me who I am today? You’ve brought out the best in me, in my mamahood. You’re shaping our family into something of my dreams and each and every one of us are more in love with you than you know.
And I can never get over it. This loving having babies thing… this loving having YOU thing. I’ll never be able to shake the feeling of adoration toward babyhood, and I’ve been falling harder and harder for you each day as I watch you grow. I watch the intensity in your eyes as you soak up your sister dancing her way across the floor, and then your legs start a kickin’ as you mimic those rockin’ moves. I smile when your mouth parts it’s way open as you observe us eating our “big people” food and the little moans of satisfaction as you slurp down yours.
And even though it seems like just a moment ago I had you swaddled up tight, you’re becoming quite the little mover and shaker… crawling through the mazes of furniture and hallways, pulling up on just about everything. Every time I set you down you lurch onto all fours and crawl your way in a mad dash to the stairs, climbing up faster than any time we’ve clocked before.
And yet, with all of this development, you’re still my baby, all twenty pounds of you as you settle into pure contentment in the crook of my arm. And I cherish it. Every last drop of it. I drink in your breathy inhales and exhales as your perfect pout puckers up, still rooting around mama’s neck, smelling my skin and wanting more. I treasure the way your tiny fingers wrap around mine and the way your hands gently pat-pat-pat my skin asking, waiting. And then, The Latch, that moment in time when relief washes over you and you sink into a deep hammock of satisfaction. I savor my time with you, in the magic of babyhood and the wonder of toddler beauty.
The month by month.
Our little rockstar has a couple other things up his sleeve, but I’ll let him tell you… or, show you.