Pic: My house after a meal with the Little Mister
So the Little Mister is almost eight and a half months old. Where the hell has that time gone? How can each day be so long, but the weeks (and months) so short? Each time he reaches a new milestone I feel torn between grieving the gorgeous little baby ways he’s moved on from and shouting to the rooftops about how amazed and impressed I am with how he is growing and developing before my very eyes!
This seems to be a crazy time of his little life! He’s developing so fast it’s all a blur! He’s less like an infant and more like a toddler (who can’t toddle yet)! He’s a boy and not just a baby! Aaaargh!
He’s commando crawling, making “Mum” and “Dad” and “Nan” sounds, waving and clapping! He also has two teeth now, with a horrible third one on the way. What a champ!
Also? It’s getting really messy around here. I started introducing the Little Mister to finger foods and he really loves the concept of feeding himself. He already loves his food so much that he’s become all empowered and wants to try spoon feeding himself too. In other words, grabbing the spoon from me while it’s full of food, shaking half the food off so it splatters onto the floor/himself/the highchair/me and then shoving it in his mouth forever until he decides it needs reloading at which point he will drop it on the tray or pass it to me. Which is really cute and makes me think about how smart he is and how my baby is the smartest baby there is (biased much?), all the while trying my hardest not to stop the whole world and clean everything up every two seconds.
As food flies through the air (literally), I have to take a deep breath and repeat to myself, “Mess is OK. We can clean this up later. Stay on track and don’t interrupt his learning. Breathe. Breathe again. Mess is good. This is constructive mess. CONSTRUCTIVE MESS. MUST NOT INTERFERE YET. OMFG. THE MESS. I HAVE TO DO THIS THREE MORE TIMES TODAY?!!!”
I’m not even a neat freak and it gives me the shakes! My favourite part is when he grabs a chunk of food in his hands and rubs it through his hair as if it’s hair gel. He only ever rubs his hands through his hair like that when he’s eating. So weird. And inconvenient. He also likes to grab a chunk of food in each hand and laugh while he waves it dangerously close to me, all squished up and soggy! Sometimes his spoon is the best drumstick, used to beat his tray. It’s also fun when he fills his mouth and then sneezes…on me.
When he’s getting about the house he drools on everything. The floor, his bib (until it’s soaking wet), the couch, his toys (fair enough – he is shoving them in his mouth after all), my legs, my face, my shoulders, my clothes, his clothes. EVERYTHING! Even more fun when he shakes his little body up after a meal (all that time scooting about on his belly ought to do it) and has a bit of a vom! Everyone loves that bitter smell, right?
By the end of the day, I am so relieved he’s getting a really good bath. I look at him all soggy, crusty and smelly (not in that amazing soft, milky newborn way anymore I’m afraid) as he grins at me…trying to climb out of the bath or stand up in it (he loves to live on the edge) and feel nothing but love. They say that babies are the most beautiful when they’re sleeping (which is SOOOO very true) but I would like to add that they are also the most beautiful right after a bath. Or first thing in the morning before they’ve drooled on anything or eaten anything. So fresh and so clean clean!
Honestly, I am finding my workload is increasing by a million bajillion times, but I’m adapting and I choose every day to laugh about it all. He might be noisy, messy and on the move but he’s also hilarious, sweet and surprising me every day with what he’s learning. I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Also, something tells me that I ain’t seen nothin’ yet. What’s that saying about boys? Something something, snails and puppy dog tails? I seem to remember photos of my brother and I eating dirt at some point. Don’t even get me started on what adolescent boys smell like. I went to a co-ed highschool. I know my stuff. The Little Mister’s feet already smell a little bit sweaty after a day in socks. I’m screwed!
