Letters to Emmy : Six Months : Half a Year

May 12 to June 12, 2014

Dear Emmy,

GURL. You. YOU YOU YOU. You are such joy and light and happiness. I don't even know what it is about you, other than you're just you.  I was so worried about being able to love and bond with my second baby as much as I did my first, but you took that worry and smashed it to bits. And then tried to eat it, just to really drive home your point. (You try to put everyyyyyyyyything in your mouth.)

You turned six months old on the 12th and my jaw dropped straight off in disbelief that from this day forward, you're closer to being one than you are to being born.

I've gotten to enjoy many outings with you in the last month as the weather's gotten nicer - we hit the Summer Arts Festival, the Children's Museum, the zoo like a million times, we went camping for the first time with you, we rode on a bus to fulfill your sister's bus obsession, we spent countless hours with family (including your great-aunt Nancy from Austin!), we hiked, we walked, we jogged haha yeah right. Most of these, you experience from the perspective of the carrier and I experience with a wonderful little bundle of Emmeline strapped to my front. In other words, perfectly.

You're teething (I think?!?!) and had a raging ear infection and were still just an awesome baby. You were a little fussier and cried a little more at night, but for the most part were still the joyful baby you always are. You still wake up a few times each night - I don't know how many, honestly, but say more than once and less than a hundred - but you go right back to sleep. Yesterday you just wanted to sleep in my arms, and since I've figured out how to do that both safely and comfortably with you (a skill that eluded me with your big sister) I was like, "YEP. OKAY." Because I love it. You're a wonderful little snugglebug when you're sleeping (and not so cuddly when you're awake) so I will soak in every cuddle I can, even if it means doing it while you sleep. And I don't.

Carys is both your idol and your biggest source of aggravation. You pull her hair; she screams. She takes a toy away from you; you scream. She wants to be the only one in my lap; you scream. You grab the pages of the book she's reading; she screams. But then two seconds later, she spontaneously envelopes you in a giant hug and you beam and coo at her. Your face just breaks into the biggest grin when she so much as glances your way, and the laughs you give her when she plays peek-a-boo are second to none. A toy doesn't count if Carys didn't have it first. You don't want a book unless Carys is trying to read it. Food only looks appetizing if it's something Carys is eating. And kid, let me tell you - she adores you, too. Still, six months later, she runs up to total strangers to introduce them to "my baby sister Emmeline!" She is so proud to be your big sister and always wants to cuddle you and make you smile. She shares all of her joys and successes with you first, before telling me or your dad. I've said it before and I know I'll repeat it probably eight thousand times - the relationship developing between you two is one of my favorite things about being a mom.

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You got your first injury. You were in your car seat - unstrapped since we were just hanging out on the porch - and either Carys tipped you forward or you rocked yourself forward and fell right out of the seat. I'll leave it to the two of you girls to hash out who was at fault when you're older, but regardless of who did it....you had a big scrape on your face for a couple days.

You have these enormous big blue eyes and amazing cheeks. And your leg chub. It's actually more like Leg Chub. It's amazing. And your hair is getting a little....darker? Redder? Browner? I don't know exactly, but it's not the white-blonde it was for a little while there. You can actually sort of see it now, though it remains a light downy fuzz more than hair.

SERIOUSLY JUST LOOK AT THIS CHUB. 

You started pulling up to a stand, using the same toy [the B Toys activity cube, which is one of my top favorite toys that we own - don't buy from Amazon, it's much cheaper at Target] that Carys started on when she was about the same age. You love to stand on those chubby little thighs. You love your bouncer and will happily fling yourself up and down for ages. You're starting to push off against your legs - the very beginnings of crawling! You reach for things and seem so dexterous. It's probably normal baby dexterity, but it seems impressive to me. I can barely walk in a straight line, and here you are grabbing things out of reach and bringing them to your mouth. You've started blowing raspberries, and you do this sharp intake of breath because you love the sound it makes and then laugh at yourself.

Right around your six month birthday, I tried solids with you. I gave you some big wedges of avocado and....well, you weren't a fan. You see us eating food. You want to eat food. But when you actually GET food, you look up with this betrayed expression and wonder what the eff we just gave you. We went camping with you the weekend you turned six months old, and you were desperately trying to get to the banana that your Nana was eating. You liked that more than the avocado but still had no idea what the hell was going on.

You started swim class a couple weeks ago, and much to my surprise, you seem to enjoy it. Or at least, you don't hate it, which I'll be honest, surprised me a little bit. While you love baths now, you hated them for a few weeks there, and I wasn't sure how much you'd enjoy slightly colder water up to your neck. You haven't cried yet, even when you get dunked underwater, and you seem to like kicking around in the water. It's so hard to believe that you're old enough for swim class already.  It was so hard to take you in the water, though - you still seem like such a little tiny baby to me. Not at all big enough to be taking swim class. Not big enough to be dunked underwater. I don't want to let you go and give you to the teacher when it's time. I feel this urgent need to protect you and keep you with me at all times.

You are your own little baby, so entirely, but the comparisons to Carys are inevitable. It's so strange - you seem so big sometimes, but you seem so much littler and smaller than she did at the same age. She was eating solids at 5.5 months, and seemed totally ready for swim class. But with you, I find myself thinking you aren't ready, even though you probably are. You're physically bigger than she was at the same age (barely, but a few ounces heavier and an inch longer) and you're at the same stage developmentally, but since I have a toddler running around, you seem so tiny in comparison.  Six months seemed so old with her since the only thing I had to compare to was her as smaller baby. But six months seems so tiny with you since the comparison baseline is a giant toddler who talks and runs and has an imagination. And can I be honest? It's wonderful. Carys's babyhood seemed to go in the blink of an eye, and time is flying with you, too...but it's different. You're still my little baby, and I think I'll feel that way about you for a long time. I promise I won't call you "my baby" in front of your high school friends.

I always write these while you're sleeping and I always end with an intense desire to go wake you up to cuddle more.

Oh, well, I know in (checks watch) about an hour you'll wake up to eat and I'll get to cuddle you then.

And I cannot WAIT.

Love you, sweet girl.

SO MUCH.

Love,
Mama

P. S. You're adorable.

Letters to Emmy : Five Months

April 12 to May 12, 2014

Dear Emmy,

Well, dang girl, this is a week late. Apparently time just keeps trucking whether I write your monthly letter or not. I don’t recall approving that decision, but whatever. I GUESS.

This month you’ve just gotten bigger and happier and even more in love with your sister, which I didn’t even think was possible.

You’re huge. You’re the chubbiest chub who ever chubbed, with your rubber-band wrists and squishy thigh rolls and giant round cheeks and dimples. I LOVE IT. It is literally physically impossible not to nom on you. (If you’re reading this in, say, 10 years and you’re wondering what that means, it’s a…um…what is the expression for this decade? Did we ever decide? The Naughts? The 20-10s? No? No idea. Anyway, it’s a current-time thing that might not make sense to you in future-time and means munch on.) Anyway. You’re just SO NOM-ABLE. And squishable. And loveable. You feel so perfect in my arms (those rare times you let me actually cuddle you). I know from experience that this chub-a-dub stage won’t last long – your sister was totally chubtastic and slimmed down quite a bit when she started crawling and walking – so I’m just making it my goal to squish you as much as possible while I can. Also, P.S., Carys calls you “Chubs,” which is either totally adorable or will totally mess you up later in life. Sorry about that!

You don’t care about anything except for BEING BIG (and eating, but don’t we all). You want to be JUST like your big sister. You could not give two ducks about those, psh, baby toys.  If your sister isn’t playing with it, you don’t want anything to do with it. But if she IS playing with it, my god, you want that thing more than anything in the world. You are constantly reaching for whatever she’s playing with – and to give her credit, she’s very good about sharing with you. Granted, she picks out her least favorite doll of the bunch of dolls to give you, but at least she’s sharing. You want to be in eyesight of her at all times if she’s awake. You will literally crane your neck 180 degrees to watch her if she’s behind you. You’re part owl or something, I don’t know.  And the laughs she elicits from you? Giant, long, deep belly laughs. The rest of us get laughs, but she gets LAUGHS. Underline/bold/italics/etc.

You aren't on a great routine yet - meaning I can usually mostly guess what time you'll be sleeping and what time you'll be awake and for how long, but it's not an exact science. You're still at the age where you'll fall asleep in your carseat or wherever we are, though, so I'm not pushing on onto you yet. We let Carys set her own routine by paying attention to her cues, and by the end of her first year she'd put herself on a routine that was exact down to the minute. So I'm hoping that you follow suit, because I don't really know how to set a routine. I prefer to let my kids just parent themselves (/sarcasm). Note to self, though: If you're fussy and I can't soothe you, you probably just want to be laid down to sleep and left the heck alone. You're not big on being rocked to sleep, which is both awesome and sad. I don't get to cuddle your relaxed, sleeping body very often since you prefer to be laid down awake and you'll fall asleep on your own. But on the other hand, hopefully I won't be crying in the middle of the night in a few months trying to get you to transfer from my arms to the crib successfully, which is what happened with your sister. 

You’ve got blondish-brownish-(dare I say it)-reddish hair that’s so light and fine, it can be hard to see. Little wisps all over your head. You have brilliant, deep blue eyes. I constantly wonder what you’re going to look like when you get older. Carys as a baby looks nothing like Carys as a toddler, so I have absolutely no history to go off of here and cannot possibly guess. But I’m excited for it.

You sit up really well. You can roll both front to back and back to front (thank GOD, because for a while there you were only rolling back to front and you really dislike being on your stomach and expressed this discontent quite loudly whenever you found yourself on your stomach). You can move around, though I’m not really sure how you do it. You start on one side of the room and five minutes later, you’re on the other side, and I’m not really sure how you did it.

Your hands are in your mouth ALL. THE. TIME. And if not your hands, then a toy. And if not a toy, then my shirt. And if not my shirt, then my hair. Anything that comes within reaching distance you instantly grab and it goes directly in the mouth. I don’t think you’re teething (I don’t see any white dots or feel anything, and Carys didn’t get teeth ‘til around 9 months) but my god, you will have it and you will have it in your mouth, thank you very much.

Because of the “chewing everything” thing and since you sit pretty well and since I started Carys on solids (baby-led weaning style) when she was about 5.5 months old, I thought I’d throw an avocado wedge your way and see what you thought. Nope. Not ready yet. You sucked on that thing like it was a bottle, then smashed it into the tray on your high chair and proceeded to gnaw on your bib. You chewed that bib good, though. That bib had it coming.

You’re such a content baby. You don’t care who is holding you (yet – separation anxiety is a’coming, I know) and as long as you’re part of the action, you’re happy. SO happy. You love sitting in your high chair and watching me (and usually Carys) while I cook. If anyone so much as glances at you, they are rewarded with a huge smile and usually some excited kicks. When I pick you up from daycare on Mondays and Tuesdays, I feel like I’ve won the lottery or like I’m a celebrity or The Most Important Mom in the Universe after your excited greeting. I’m pretty sure if you greeted Kim Jong-Un every morning, he’d turn into a happy puppy cavorting in a field of daisies.

You’re (OMG AM I REALLY GOING TO TYPE THIS OUT KNOCK ON SO MUCH WOOD) a really good sleeper. You’re not sleeping through the night, but you go down by yourself, so I can lay you down mostly awake (with a swaddle and paci, usually) and you’ll put yourself to sleep. Last night happened to be one where you were awake for a while in the middle of the night (some infant dance party at 3am or something? You have a better nightlife than me!) but usually when you wake up, you’ll eat and go right back to sleep. Co-sleeping is a huge reason for this, I think. Usually you start out in the crib, then you’ll wake to eat, sleep with me for a couple hours, then I’ll put you back in the Rock N Play, then rinse and repeat until morning. What am I going to do when you’re in your crib all night? Who will keep me warm?

I say it constantly, but you’re such a perfect addition to our family. I love how Carys has a deep need to know where you are at all times (“Where’s baby Emmeline? She sleepin’?”) and I love watching your dad interact with you and I love simply sitting with you and looking at you. If it’s just you or Carys and the other one is gone or sleeping, I feel incomplete. Even if you’re just two rooms away sleeping, it doesn’t feel right. It feels bizarrely easy, for one thing, to have just one kid, but it also feels all wrong. We need you.

Love you so much, Chubs McGubs.

Mama