In recognition of turning a half-year old (oh, where did the time go!), I thought I’d share some numbers that are important in your world.
I felt the first one poking through the night before we left on our trip to Yosemite (more on that later). Two nights later, it was coming up fast, and I think all of the Sierra Nevadas (Sierras Nevada?) knew you were teething. The second one popped through this week.
Yesterday, you bit my nipple twice while nursing, and, no, I will never forgive you.
18: Seconds you’ve sat unassisted before flopping over
Sitting is for suckers. You want to be standing. I bet you’d walk if you could.
0.5: Length of the longest strand of your hair, in inches.
When is that stuff going to come in, fuzzy head?
3: Times I got up each night to turn you over from sleeping on your tummy.
In the last month you decided you were a stomach baby. The problem was that you were able to roll onto your stomach while swaddled, but you couldn’t roll back.
We started putting you to bed unswaddled. And, even though the Internet told me it was much safer for you to sleep on your stomach now that you could roll back and forth, and even though we have the AngelCare monitor, I was still nervous.
Turning you back over in the middle of the night lasted about a week, until you began waking up each time I did it, and wouldn’t go back to sleep. Now you roll over onto your stomach the second we put you in bed, and we leave you there, butt crunched up in the air, off to snooze land.
0: Times you cry in the car
This is only significant for me. At this age, your brother began screaming as soon as I opened the car door. You? You love the car. You chill out like the chillest dude ever.
1: Road trips
Speaking of the car, this past month we gathered up your brother and Grandma Barbara and headed north. Though we had to stop every 90 minutes or so to feed you, we eventually made it to the ranch/home of your great uncle and aunt in Central California. You met your first horse, slept with all of us in a trailer, woke up to the sound of roosters crowing, and went on a house boat.
Then we journeyed to Yosemite to scatter the ashes of your Papa and further honor the wonderfulness that was him. My dear boy, you won’t remember this trip, of course, but maybe a part of you will always carry with you how it felt. In life, your Papa always gave of himself, and he has continued to give through his passing. Our time with one another was full of love and laughter, of tears and togetherness. It was a trip to remind ourselves why family is the most important thing.
It was also filled with snow. We realized the day before we left that a big storm would be hitting Yosemite while we were there. Being from San Diego, we had nothing that was appropriate for you. So we winged it. Hope you weren’t too cold.
5,000: Times you smile a day
Jack, you may be the happiest baby in the history of babies. This still amazes me because you squalled THE ENTIRE FIRST TWO MONTHS OF YOUR LIFE. But, it’s true!
You beam at strangers, you beam at your grandmas, you beam at the cats, you beam at the birds flying past the window. You giggle each time we change your diaper, every time we nuzzle your neck. When Dad or I walk in a room, you spaz out with legs and arms and squeals flying everywhere.
But all this is nothing compared with how you look at Charlie. To you, he is everything. The most interesting thing on the planet. The one to adore.
My heart swells at this growing relationship. I’ll try to remember it when you’re screaming at each other over Legos in a few years. I hope you do, too.