"Too bad I wasn't born with twelve fingers on each hand. I'm sure I could fit them in there, with enough training."
Mommy thoughts: Raising a baby is like growing out a short hair cut. Each time you think you've figured out how to best manage the current stage, the next stage is upon you, forcing you to figure out a new bag of tricks.
This is not to say I have always managed each stage of either this haircut or my son in the best way possible. But you know what I mean.
I feel acutely aware these days of the spring season that will, by god, start feeling more like spring. Any day now. Right? As you may recall, I am a fan of seasons. It has also occurred to me that raising a baby is like adapting our daily life to the changing seasons. I have so enjoyed the past five and a half month "season" for what it has been: intensive time focused on the basics of eating, sleeping, and connecting with each other. And now I feel myself looking ahead to the next season, the with new skills to master and discoveries to make. It's like we're entering the season of taking the blinders off and looking around at this big world outside our quaint, shrinking house. And feeling confident enough to particpate in it.
A few specifics of recent and upcoming changes:
The area rug is on order, which will expand Webber's 3x5 foot padded-blanket world that we move from spot to spot on these hardwood floors. All the better to roll over with, my dear.
His mastered front-to-back roll-over has been very cute. The impending back-to-front roll-over has caused me to move "Babyproof The House" up to the top of the To Do List.
I can see that the routine of placing Webber in his bouncy seat while I take an occassional shower is not going to last much longer. His hands, and a rattle that I have been able to slip over his wrist, just don't provide the shock and awe that they once did. What I will replace this arrangement with, I'm not sure. I'm sure we'll stumble upon something.
I've been reading up in preparation of starting Webber on solid foods at his 6 month birthday. Part of me is trying not to take it personally that he will require fuel other than Mommy Juice for the rest of his life. The rest of me, quite frankly, is getting over it. The payoff for me is a little more freedom and equality in the parenting equation. The payoff for you all will mean seeing classic messy-baby-face pictures of him in a high-chair, as opposed to buried-baby-face hidden in his mother's busom. Sorry we haven't been very free with those. They're primarily for me to refer back to in future years, to sigh fondly over as I recall the days when I had a busom for anyone to be buried in.
There will come a day that he outgrows the Baby Bjorn. This day is going to be a very, very sad day for me. The Bjorn has made so many exciting and fulfilling things possible for this new mom and baby to experience together: grocery shopping, picking up around the house, snowshoeing, and sleeping (okay, maybe just one at a time on there). I guess the outgrowing is a good thing. Something tells me I think I would be a lot less productive at the grocery shopping with a fourteen year-old boy strapped to me.
On that note, bring on the next season.
And maybe once a season, I'll take the time to write something other than photo captions. In the meantime, enjoy this modest mommy blog.
NNW
