I swear when she looks at me like this, my mind lurches forward 14 years and I’m telling her that she will stop texting her friends at 2:00 am or I will take the phone from her when she goes to bed.  And, at the very moment that we have this discussion, my mother will be confused as to why she just spontaneously giggled uncontrollably. 

O my.  My child has decided that she will be independent now.

At dinner, she no longer wants to wait for me to bring the spoon to her mouth.  After a bite or two, she’s reaching for it, trying to pry it out of my hand and “helping” me feed her.  Then she chews on the spoon for a while, creating more of a mess on her bib than what gets in her mouth.  But.  Whatever.  The pictures are pretty cute.    And I’m sure there’s nutrition in the puffs that she happily eats.  Right? 

During playtime (which is pretty much all day long – ahh.. the life of a baby).  She doesn’t have to wait until we randomly find the toy she wants, she can now go get it herself.  And people?  She call PULL HERSELF UP ON IT. (Which I didn’t get a picture of because I was too busy looking at Craig, going… Oh. My. God. Did she just DO that? ) Or sit on her knees while she plays with it?  WHERE did she learn to sit on her knees? 

Notice she’s taking the brush with her as she pushes the car around the living room?  I would be worried about her being too concerned about her appearance at such a young age, but actually, it’s her favorite thing to chew on.  And the diaper?  Yep, she likes to play with those too.  Remind me to lower my toy budget in the future.

Me:  Hon, tonight while nothing on the computer went the way I wanted it too, I was looking through pictures from when C was itty bitty. 

Him:  Oh?

Me:  Yep, there are pictures from the hospital, the first few days home and her snuggling in bed with me after you got up for work. There are pictures of her laying  on the couch by herself.  You know, when we used to be able to put her somewhere and she didn’t move. 

Him:  Can’t do that anymore. She’d crawl off in a second. 

Me:  And, remember when she used to lay on your chest and you’d both fall asleep?  There’s a couple of those pictures too. 

Him:  Yeah. If I’d have known that was only going to last a month, I’d have done it every damn day. 

Me:  I know, honey.  Me too.

Because if you don’t awww, just a little, over these pictures, you probably kick kittens too. 

Do you remember when I whined ad nauseum about my child not napping? I’m happing to report she has gotten much better. (Note to self, you’re gonna jinx it) These photos were snapped over the weekend after she had been asleep for TWO WHOLE HOURS and I didn’t care if she woke up.  120 MINUTES of glorious napping for the babe gave me time to eat, drink a cup of tea, watch the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy (not really good Saturday morning viewing, by the way) and shower. 

And, yep, in that top picture she is cuddling with a fish that she pulled off of her mobile at the beginning of the nap.  And, yes, the mobile has now been removed from the crib.   Mean mommy. 

I’m getting better at this turning work off on the weekends thing.  Do I feel bad about it when Monday arrives? Yes.  Well, sort of.  Knowing that I could work all weekend and still be behind helps me to feel better about shutting it down or only putting in a little bit of time. 

Some weekends are better than others.  Sometimes I find myself rushing C to a nap, so I can proofread, write some copy or clean out my in-box.  But other weekends are like this one.  Where I take my time, rock her a little longer and use her naps to blog, read books, or (gasp!) nap myself.  After those weekends, I go back to work on Mondays feeling less like employee of the year but more like the mother my child deserves. 

This weekend was full of sunshine and family time.  (hehe that rhymes.) We spent Saturday in my hometown visiting my family.  My goal was to get some good family photos since it was a rare occasion that I had make up and wasn’t rushing out the door. 

Mission (sort of) accomplished.

Yes that’s my little girl, all dressed up in pink, playing with a bat and chewing on a baseball.  le sigh.

Ever since she was born, all I’ve heard is how much C is her father’s daughter.  A few days after we were home from the hospital, he handed me a picture and I awed over it, asking who took that picture of our little one. In my groggy, sleep-deprived, new mommy state, I didn’t realize it was actually a picture of Craig as a newborn.  A few weeks after that, I left our bedroom for a minute with the little one sleeping in the bassinet and Craig asleep in bed.  When I came back, I saw them both still asleep but in identical poses with their hands up over their heads. 

If I hadn’t been for the fact that I was there when she was born, I would be beginning to doubt that she was, in fact, my daughter. 

Until yesterday.  When she tasted my Oreo and fell in love.  The “oh, that’s yummy” look in her eye was one I’ve seen in the mirror.  She may not have my nose, my chin or my dark as night brown eyes, but by God, my child has a sweet tooth! 

Dear Baby Girl,

Today you are seven months old and with every day that passes you are learning or doing something new.  I stand back sometimes and watch as you take in your surroundings or test your limits, and I think about all of the times to come that you will tiptoe on the edge of indecision and test your boundaries.

As you army crawl across the floor looking over your shoulder to see if we are watching, I think that soon you will be taking your first timid steps.  As you look around the garage like it’s the first time you’ve been there, I think about you taking in the sights of the playground your first day at school.  And, as you giggle and play with your daddy, I think about you running across the yard with your friends. 

As I wonder about what kind of kid you are going to be, I think about what kind of mother I will be.  In wanting what’s best for you, will I push you too hard?  Will I miss your milestones and special moments because of important meetings or conference calls that run long?  Will I give in too quickly when you beg for a cell phone or to stay out late because I want you to fit in with your friends?  Will I raise you to be kind to others and to stand up when someone is unkind to you or someone you care about?  When you’re a teenager facing tough decisions and situations that are more grown up than you are, will you trust me enough to confide in me? 

This parenting thing is a heavy responsibility.  One that I didn’t realize until maybe just recently.  God has given me a precious gift in you and is trusting that I will be the mother that you deserve.  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t worry about failing you, your father and our family.  But when the doubt stirs, in the form of frustration, feeling overwhelmed or by thinking of all the things that can go wrong; I look at your face, say a prayer and whisper a promise that I will always do what is best for you. 

We’re riding life out on a wing and a prayer, kiddo.  I wish I could say I had all the answers and I knew what was in store for us, but I simply don’t.  I don’t know what challenges we will face or what answers we will find.  But we will find them together.  That I promise you. 

I love you, baby girl.

PS.  Child, you are getting to be a handful. Remember when you used to sit still for your monthly pictures?  No?  Well, me either. 

… are exhausting.

So what’s the going rate for a six-month old that “helps” with laundry and email?

Confession…  I might like the baby pears more than she does.

Oh, come on.  Admit it.  You taste test your kid’s food too.