02.08.09 :: 8:10 am


Say that you'll never run too far away even with all the answers out there


Dear Oliver,

Today you turned 7 months old. I will tell you right now that I forbid you to grow any more and I want you to stay this little always because I took a look at you the other day and I swear I saw you at age 25 and it petrified me. What do I know about 25 year olds? A whole lot of nothing, that�s what.
Also, you�re so cuddly right now and I can�t ever imagine not having this big ol� love fest we�ve got going on currently.

Anyway, onward.

It�s been Milestone City at the Sunday household. You�ve taken to rolling both ways so much so that it wakes you up in the middle of the night when you�ve flipped over onto your stomach. That�s the worst. I feel you.
You know what else rocks your world? Sitting. Just sitting. You�re a fantastic sitter and you can just sit for hours if I let you. And sometimes I do. And then we get what happened yesterday which was you falling asleep in your crib slumped over like a subway drunk. Sorry about that. You haven�t quite mastered the subtle art of leaning back into horizontal position yet.

You outgrew the Bjorn this month and we bought you an Ergo which holds up to 40 pounds and it sounds like 40 pounds is a long ways away but that�s what I said when I thought about the Bjorn�s 20 pound capacity. How na�ve we were, my little 95th percentile boy.

The Ergo is your new favorite place to nap. I�ve taken you on walks to the park with you in it and you rest your face on my chest and pass right out. When it was snowing last week, you snuggled under my scarf and only your little hazel peepers were showing and the quiet of the snowfall around us lulled you to sleep and it was so lovely walking around with you nestled into me like that.

Daddy went to work this month, too. This is big news because he hasn�t been to a proper 9-5 office job in over 3 years! The good news is that we don�t have to plunk down $500 every time we take you to the pediatrician. The bad news is that daddy is away 40 hours out of the week and that means that it�s you and me, kiddo.
It�s been difficult at times. You enjoy challenging me it seems. You�ve mastered the fine art of whining in such a way that makes living impossible. But just when I think I cannot take one minute more and I�m ready to find a caravan of carnies to take you away, you take these brilliant and epic naps. And then I get to catch up on the internet and TV and I�m reborn.

Food has been thoroughly introduced and you love it, all of it. You eat actual food now, which is amazing if you think about how you basically subsisted off of nothing but milk for five months. It�s all fruits and veggies and meats every day and you gladly eat all of it. Showoff! Please continue to not be a picky eater because your father and I have high hopes we can introduce you to sushi and other culinary delights at a very young age.
We handed you a single green bean last night and you know what you did? You grabbed it and sucked away at it for about an hour. It. Was. Awesome.
We ordered you a high chair because you�re such a big boy that you can actually get food into your own mouth now and that deserves a big boy seat, doesn�t it?

Another incredible thing you�ve been practicing is standing up. All you want to do is stand. Considering your father took his first steps at 9 months old, we�ve really got to get cracking on this whole baby-proofing thing. You can almost stand by yourself. You scare me sometimes, little Superpower Baby.

You�re about two minutes away from mastering the Beauty Pageant wave, too. So delightful! You get both your hands flapping and then I sing to you the Greek coo-peh-peh song with the waving gesture and you get this look of concentration and you try really hard to copy the movements and you are brilliant. Just brilliant.

Your relationship with the Stoosh-dog has also transformed quite a lot. You actually know when she�s around and you notice her and you watch her and everything she does is freaking HILARIOUS to you. After you�ve eaten, she�ll come up to you and sniff your bib and face for any leftovers and I should probably swat her for doing so, but you seem to love it. Her whiskers tickle you and you just crack up laughing.
You�ve learned to pat her, albeit spastically, and she�s learned to be submissive to you. She lies down in front of you and offers you her belly. You stare at her in wonder.
I�m glad she�s taken to you considering that we totally disrupted her calm and peaceful life as an only child.
The two of you are quite a pair.

I introduced you to some other babies this month too. It didn�t go so well, loner. Granted it was your first time being in a room filled with other little bundles your age and it was quite overwhelming and you cried and cried. But we sat down, you in my lap, and you took it all in and though you didn�t feel like exploring or playing, you watched intently and it was OK. You really did OK.
We�re going to keep going because I think it would be good for you to realize you aren�t the only living baby, anywhere.

This month you�ve filled this apartment with your fantastic little smile and your homeopathic giggling. There is actual recognition in your eyes when you see your dad and me.
I can�t get over how much of an actual personality you have and how insane it is that you play coy and shy and then turn around and be the standup comedian. You have real ranges of emotions; you are Lord Oliver of the Solemnity and Batootle of the Screeching Excitement.

Your tiniest movement and expression is proof enough for me there is a higher power.

I love you beyond the beyond.

Love,
Mama

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