I can’t believe it’s been half a year already!
Commiserating with friends who just had a baby a couple weeks ago, I realize how much of Isaac’s early days are a total blur. It’s probably for the best – he’s way more fun now.
Which is a good thing, because despite not wanting to be one of those people who basically only talks about their kid, I basically just talk about my kid. Or so it would appear to the internet (in person I am – I think – fairly capable of carrying on conversation on a broader range of topics). I mean, how could I not? He’s adorable!
And being okay with appearing to just talk about my kid is one of a few things that I’ve found have changed since becoming a mom. It’s part of the larger “caring a whole lot less what other people think of me” shift. I used to care. I used to care deeply, too much, really.
Over the last few years I have grown up some and cared less, and then last March I spent 8 hours being completely primal in front of a crowd of strangers, most of whom also got all up in my hoo-hah, and all dignity went out the window. Giving birth is dignity rock-bottom, my friends.
I do still manage to shower and put on pants (not mom-jeans, never mom-jeans. I may not have dignity, but I do have a modicum of pride) before leaving the house, but mostly because I enjoy the sanity of the routine. It is for me, not for you.
Time also feels like it is racing by, and taking up one fleeting year being obsessed with the minutiae of spending my days with this crazy baby feels like the right thing to do.
There is a limit, though. I am not talking about poop. You’re welcome.
The other big change is that my cynicism has all but vanished. You try being mopey and world-weary when you spend all your time with someone who is infectiously happy and curious and having his tiny mind absolutely blown in the best possible way by the simplest things. Peas! Rolling over! Things that go scrunch! Another human smiling!
The world, indeed the whole universe, is a beautiful, astonishing, wondrous place. It’s easy to forget that, until you end up seeing it again through the eyes of someone who’s seeing it for the first time.
And speaking of himself, as far as baby-updates go, he is exactly as he should be. He’s got roly-poly thighs and deliciously chubby cheeks. He’s in the 50th percentile for height and the 15th for weight, so he looks less like a little Michelin Man and more like Elmer Fudd.
He’s a super busy guy and can’t seem to bear to be still. Even at his most calm, when he’s nursing, he still needs to kick his feet or wave his hands or flex his fingers or something. He doesn’t yet crawl or sit (sitting requiring being still, and not diving for one’s own very exciting toes), but he rolls and squirms everywhere. Watching him try to get places is like watching a hilariously bad driver try to park, using a 1000-point turn.
He likes to get into things he shouldn’t, and his eyes are already full of mischief.
He drools and chomps with such fury that I have to believe teeth are imminent. Bittersweet, because it is awesome and amazing to watch him grow and power through these milestones (I am still mostly flabbergasted that I made a whole person!) but a bit sad because it’s yet another reminder that he won’t be a tiny baby forever (and I am still terrified of cryptic, whiney, running, mysterious toddlers).
But, if the other parents are to be believed, it does keep getting better. So we’ll continue to soldier on, one mind-blowing discovery at a time.
Hey Ma, I like apples!
