Who Are You?

Who are you?

I find myself asking this question of X, sadly more frequently on Thursdays and Fridays as the work week keeps me away from him for most of the days between weekends. Spending two, or maybe three hours a day with this baby is just not enough to get to know the little person who is now very much becoming his own little self. Following a routine that has been established by X and his wonderful babysitter is easy on the weekends, but it's sad that I need the babysitter to tell me about my boy's day to day routine and growth.

I want to be the one to make the discoveries about X's preference. I want to figure out with X what works and what doesn't.

I love the babysitter, though. She is wonderful. She takes in four children, and runs a home daycare. Two girls, ages three and two, and another boy, about two weeks older than X. It's a lovely, warm environment and X gets lots of one-on-one attention. I couldn't ask for a better situation.

Still, the question comes. Who are you?

I'm finally starting to feel like X is a separate entity. He expresses his individuality in surprising, funny ways. His temper is quick to flare, like mine, but irritations are quickly forgotten. He is a goofy, funny giggler, like his dad. He loves to snuggle, but he also loves to play and shout! He is gaining more and more skills that will make him yet even more independent as the days and weeks and months pass. I'm so proud of him. He is the sweetest, funniest boy.

I'm also starting to feel like I am myself again -- not always mommy, but a wife and a friend and a sister and an employee and a daughter. Maybe it's spring. Maybe it's all the new independent things of which X is becoming capable. Who knows? I feel different, though. I feel more balanced, and that's a good thing.

And still: Who are you? How will you be different today? It's a question for both of us, for all three of us, thinking now about my husband. How will we continue to grow, as individuals and as a family? Every day, a question.

Seven Months

X is seven months old today -- more than half a year. Almost a year and a half since we found out he was on his way. I can't believe how quickly time passes.

X discovered today that he can put his toes in his mouth! I've been waiting for this to happen. What a funny sight! I hate feet in the worst way, but I love X's feet. I kiss them and blow raspberries on them. They're so chubby, and his big toes are SO big! They're like insane monkey toes. I swear he tries to pick things up with his feet, just like he does with his hands. That'll be a neat party trick, if it ever comes to pass.

He also did the funniest moon walk move while we were playing in the living room this evening. I was holding him up, in a standing position. Instead of bouncing, like he normally does, he started to pick up his feet. He couldn't figure out how to put them one in front of the other, so he kept putting them back and sliding the other foot.

My husband is a huge, major Michael Jackson fan. I haven't told him about the moon walking yet, but I know he will freak out when I do. One other anecdote here is that X would always "dance" in utero whenever a Michael Jackson song played. Just like his daddy! I don't know if musical fandom can be inherited, but if loving MJ is genetic, I will eat my hat.

Anyway, happy 7 months day, X. Your daddy and I love you so very much!

Swings

Yesterday marked my first venture onto a playground with X. The weather is finally no longer frigid, the daylight is lasting longer, and I had the day off and X all to myself!

We walked our usual route through the subdivision where we live and instead of strolling past the playground, I decided to stop. I thought we could try the baby swings. X has been sitting up pretty well for a couple of weeks now. Okay, he's still a little wobbly, but when he has something to hold on to, he does great!

I put him in and away he went -- swinging and shrieking and laughing.

Daddy reports that he took him to the playground again today while I was at work, and that X loved the swings and cried when taken out to come home. Sweet boy.

Messy Morning

Lots of messy things have happened today, but they have all had me dissolving into fits of giggles:

1. During a flying baby game (holding X in the air over my head), there was a burp and a spit-up! I knew the day would come for this to happen. All I could do was close my eyes and mouth and reach blindly for the burp cloth to get the worst of it off of my face. This episode required a face washing (mine), shirt changing (mine) and mouth wiping (X's). At least I didn't have to change his clothes, too!

2. Listening to Raffi's "Bananaphone", I carry X over to the counter and pick up a pretty ripe banana. "This is a banana. Banana! Banana! Banana!" X grabs the stem and gives a hard yank, pulling it off. Okay, I think. I'll just peel and eat it. While I'm holding X. He proceeds to grab and mash the banana. Soon, we are both a sticky, slimy mess. And X still doesn't like fresh banana -- after putting some in his mouth, he did his usual gagging, BLECH sound. O_o This situation called for reinforcements, and it was, after all, 7:30 a.m. So, we go upstairs and wake up Daddy, who takes X for cleanup, while I change my shirt (again) and wash my face and hands (again).

3. X is finally winding down. I see that he's getting tired, so I sit in the rocking chair with him, and we snuggle. I had changed into a tank top, leaving my chest bare. X, who is really working on blowing raspberries, puts his little mouth on my skin and blows, making the loudest, wettest raspberry sound ever. I start to laugh, and so he starts to laugh. He does it again. We both giggle and laugh, and he does it again! Giggle fit ensues. Okay, not too messy this time, but very, very slobbery!

Suddenly, X is curled up like a bean in my arms, fast asleep.

Bliss.

Hands

When X was born, his fingers were so long and slender, balled up into tight fists. His hands were so, so tiny. He must have been fascinated by his hands in utero, as he had sucking blisters when he was born. He has continued to be fascinated by hands. He quickly re-learned how to suck on his fingers and thumbs, once he was in the world. For a little while, he would almost always gag himself, putting his fingers into his mouth too fast and too deep. Now, he is an expert with his chubby little starfish hands. He is a master grasper, he can reach and grab and pinch!

He is also fascinated by everyone else's hands. He has, almost since he was born, used my hands as his favorite toy. He would reach, grab my fingers, let go, reach again. He plays with my hands as he nurses or while he is falling asleep. If I lay him down in his crib, and he is tired, but fighting the sleep, I give him my hand to use as a lovey. He grips my fingers, pushing my hand away, then drawing it near.

I wonder what he will do one day with his hands. Will he be left-handed, like my father? Will he make things with his hands? Play an instrument? Perform surgery?

I wonder what X will do when he is a little boy, a teen, an adult. How will he use his hands? The future is so far away, but so terrifyingly near. I learn this anew each day, as X masters one more skill, one more communicative nuance, one more fine finger motion. I can't wait for his future, yet I want time to stand still, to stop the clock, bind its hands. I want to hold X's hand in mine forever, but I know that soon enough I'll be waving goodbye as he makes his way into the wide world.