The Seventh Month...

*disclaimer- I am "stealing" this idea from a popular internet blogger. I think it is such a wonderful idea, because so much happens everyday with Jack and his development and I would like to remember the little nuances just as much as I know I will treasure the gigantic milestones.
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Dear Jack,

I am starting this Diary of your life for a couple of reasons. One, I failed at keeping up with your baby book, and I am just as useless when it comes to being dedicated to scrap booking. Sorry, you just do not have THAT mom. Two, I want you to know what you were like growing up as it happened. Memories get distorted over the years and some of the most important details get left out. Not to mention, when I start becoming completely senile and begin confusing episodes of "Full House" with real events that happened in your life-you will be able to decipher my crazy. I am printing these out as I write them, and saving them for a book to give to you. I am not sure when you will get this- perhaps not until you move out and you can not use my secret emotions behind disciplining you against me.

I have a lot of time to make up for, so bear with me.

You have not yet completed your seventh month yet, but since I missed writing about the first six, I was to anxious to wait. Seven has already been a big month for you and your dad and I- you finally learned to crawl. We thought you were going to crawl over a month a half ago. You had started getting up on all fours. You even found a way to scoot backwards- PROGRESS everyone told me, HE IS SO CLOSE. You were SO CLOSE for quite a long time. Your left arm kept holding you back, as if it were just a prop god had created for you as some joke and it did not possess any proper function whatsoever. Tummy time and "Free arm" time remained brief. Thank god for the excer-saucer, because we may just have thrown you in the garbage for real one time.

On one not so special Saturday(3-8-08), your dad was playing peek-a-boo with you from behind the couch. You were trying so hard to find him every time he would hide, so he placed you on the floor in hopes that you would try hard enough to crawl. Low and behold, around you strutted- your arm broken free from it's cement prison. I was in the bathroom. Your dad called me to come out and of course I responded with, "I cant, I am on the freaking toilet". He replied, "Trust me you want to see this." I came out, and when I saw you- I cried. I cried because you were crawling and I cried because I got to see the first time. I was so afraid that I would pick you up one day from daycare and hear you had crawled without me. It is truly precious that your first crawl was to find your Daddy, and I feel like I won the lottery knowing that I get to own that memory (if your first word is 'mommy', I will let it slide- but know it is your jewish heritage that will not allow me to let you live it down)

You are liberated, and so are we. Even though you freak out after 15-20 mins and come crying to us- those 15-20 minutes are gold. I find it fitting for your personality that when you are crawling to us and crying your little eyes out that you stop as soon as you get to our hands, making sure not to crawl too much or too far, and you tag them as if to let us know you are passing a baton and it is time we pick you up. There has been a bittersweet aspect to you crawling that I had not prepared for- the blatant fact that you are slowly learning not to depend on me as much anymore. I realized it last night when you ventured beyond the safety of the couch, into the vast unknown of the kitchen and beyond without me. Small, yes-insignificant, no.

Aside from crawling, you are developing quite the little attitude. Even though I try to separate from stereotypes, your father is really hitting the nail on the head when he calls you "Jacklyn". Your girly screeches are enough to wake the dead and then make the dead want to be dead again. They get into my bones like cold rain, and when I think you can't scream any louder you prove me wrong. You scream and cry as if you are in pain and someone is hurting you- and your dad and I always wonder how we are supposed to distinguish those from the times there is really something wrong. Recently, you started waking up again at night. It is only once, but for 20 minutes straight you scream..SCREAM as loud as you can. You can stop that now.

Even though you have a "tude", I am starting to see a really awesome personality coming through. You are definitely not the little blob you were before. You have changed so much, that when I look back at pictures from a couple of months ago I have to convince myself you really are the same baby.

You are much more exciting and interesting. I love watching you discover everything, and it will never cease to amaze me that EVERYTHING goes immediately in your mouth. You laugh out loud at random moment, and sometimes I think laughing in a sarcastic tone is hereditary because you do it so well for being so young. You are no longer an infant, but a little person. You have quirks, you have preferences, and you have opinions that you make known.

One of your greatest achievements thus far, has been learning how to put your own pacifier in your mouth-pause for angels singing-, and even though you could probably learn to go without it, I do not think I am ready for you to give it up yet. I am not afraid to admit that I am the one with a binky addiction.

After your fun experience with bronchitis, you got back into eating baby food again. I was so motivated to be one of those moms who home made your baby food- perhaps as a way to make me feel better about leaving you at daycare; but like making homemade wipes and worrying every 5 minutes if you are safe sleeping on your tummy - it just was not worth the hassle. You have thrived nonetheless, and suck that mess up like a hoover, making sure to insert "mmmms" between each bite...even the turkey and green beans. If it is any consolation, I make myself try each flavor before I give it to you. The bananas and vanilla custard are pretty good- I could have done without the meat mixtures.

You still hate the car, and sometimes I find myself debating on going anywhere with you for that sole fact. You still are a horrible napper. I swear you are the only human on this planet who can run on no or minimal sleep. I guess that will benefit me in the long run, because I will not have to go through the withdrawal of you giving up naps.

Thank god you have learned to love "The Wiggles". It is the ONLY show you will sit by yourself and watch without having to be held or entertained by us. It really helps on the mornings you wake up early and I can not get you back to sleep, the boys "down under" really come through. I am a little pissed that they replay the same episode every three or fours days. You may not know the difference, but if I have to watch it to than I would at least like the courtesy of some new storylines.

As of right now, you are completely healthy (knock on wood). I am starting to feel like the boy who cried "wolf"- or the mommy who cried "sick". I never thought I could be as worried and as scared as I have been when you were sick. It is the most helpless feeling in the world not knowing what is wrong with your child, especially when they can not tell you themselves. The last time we were in the doctor's office, she told me that if they were still using paper files yours would be a couple of inches thick. Like grandfather, like grandson-like mother, like son.

You have two bottom teeth, and right now and (I think) you are getting some more. I did not think we were going to survive those three weeks. I do not care what doctors say, I know you were teething for at least that long. You were drooling like a faucet, you were miserable, you had diarrhea, you had a stuffy nose, and worst of all: you were up every hour at night. I know my how you work, and even when sick you do not work like that. I had not been that tired since the first couple nights you were home from the hospital and cried from midnight-five in the morning. I was a zombie- a complete mess. I believe it is God's way of trying to make us feel the pain you were going through.

It has amazed me the lengths I have gone already, just to make you smile. The efforts I put forth in the faces I have to contort, the songs I have to sing, the aerobics I have to perform pale in comparison to the amazing smiles and giggles you give me as a reward. And, (never use "and" to start a sentence, it is not proper grammar) AND, when trying to make you laugh does not calm you down I know all I have to do is sing "you are my sunshine" and you will instantly stop crying. I used to sing it to you during the nights your dad was still working at sheetz and you would cry for hours non-stop. It did nothing for you at the time but I think it kept me calm. I figured, if I sang I would stay sane. You started associating that song with me and relaxing, and even though I still have not looked up the other verses you do not seem to mind listening to the same one over and over again. Knowing that I can calm you down like that, satisfies my heart.

In a nut shell, you own me.

Love,

Mommy