Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Six Months

Caitlin. Oh my dear, sweet, Caitlin.

You've sure gotten the shaft around here, haven't you?

You see, when your big sister was a baby, I wrote her a letter every month for the first year of her life, detailing what, exactly, was going on with her at the time. I talked about what milestones she'd passed, what activities she'd done, what she'd liked and disliked about the month that had passed.

And for you, my little second child?

I have done none of that. And I'm sorry. I really, really am.

It's not that I don't get just as excited for every new thing that you do, I promise. It's just that, well...a lot of things have changed in the three years since we were here with Brigid, and the time I have to document all of those new things you do has basically been non-existent.

But six months. That's a big one, kiddo. It's your half-birthday today, and I just couldn't let it pass by without some sort of notice on my part.

I find myself surprised, both by the fact that it's already been six months since you joined our family, because I could swear that it was just yesterday that your dad tried to delay our trip to the hospital so he could make a hot dog while I was doubled over with some pretty painful contractions (because, as he put it, it's not like I was going anywhere at the time...), and by the fact that it's only been six months since you joined our family, because I feel like you've been with us forever.
You are an adorably happy baby, especially in the morning, but hoooooo BUDDY are you a drama queen. The rate at which you can go from happy to lower lip pouty to hysterically crying is pretty head-spinning, and while I always feel so bad for you when you get upset, I'm going to go ahead and admit that I also find it pretty cute when that lip comes out. Sorry. You might as well get used to me finding something to smile about in your moments of over-reaction, because it's not something I'm going to stop any time soon. Just ask Brigid. You can let her tell you how yelling 'Stop smiling at me, mommy!' in the midst of a tantrum only makes me giggle harder.

We've done a terrible job at introducing you to solid foods, since we've only made it through apples, carrots, the odd banana, and that really terrible smelling baby cereal they sell, but spoon feeding you is hard, and you don't really seem all too fond of most non-formula foods, and it's not like you DON'T already have the greatest cheeks, ever, so I'm not too worried about it. What I'd really like is for you to start sitting up, already, so I can just feed you the real foods, but you don't seem to have any interest in that, at all. In fact, when I do try to put you into a sitting position? You lock your legs up and attempt to stand.


That's something, I guess.

You're still a pacifier baby, which I will say makes me kind of happy, because breaking Brigid of the thumb-sucking has been a nightmare, so I'm not above encouraging you to stick with the habit a little longer if it keeps your fingers out of your mouth. You will follow the sound of my voice around the room, and at night, when I get home from work, if I come to talk to you in your exersaucer, then move away without picking you up,  you take it as the biggest possible insult, letting me know in no uncertain terms that you DO NOT approve of that move on my part.

That exersaucer, by the way? YOU LOVE IT. I've seen you bounce around for 15 minutes straight, and while I was exhausted just watching you, you seemed unphased by it all. It's not surprising to me, though, because you really never stopped moving while I was pregnant with you, so why should it be any different now, right?

Beyond everything wonderful that you do, I want you to know that Brigid adores you in ways that I'd only hoped were possible when we told her she was going to be a big sister. When you start fussing in the morning, she runs to check on you immediately, before coming to tell me that I need to go get you out of bed for the day. When we'd go to pick her up from school, she'd make everybody come say hi to you, even if they'd all just seen you two days earlier. She still calls you her baby, and she constantly tells me how cute you are, how much she loves you, and how much you love her. Because you do love her.

And the two of you together are better than anything I could have ever dreamed of having in my life.

Happy half-birthday Baby Cait. I love you more than you could ever know.


  1. That's a seriously high quality baby you've got there. And she IS NOT six months old.

  2. No, YOU are crying.


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