Six months old

Happy half-year birthday to my little big man. It doesn’t seem possible that Luke is already six months old. I wonder how many times I have smooched that smiling, precious face in the last 24 weeks. I would say we are close to a million kisses. And how many times has he made my heart melt? About a million times as well. And how many times has he pooped so violently that it exploded out of his diaper and all over his clothes? I’m thinking that number’s pretty high too. Good thing that little stinker’s so adorable, otherwise I might hold the ridiculous-rate of laundry I’ve been doing over him.

So Luke is officially on the backside of being a newborn, and with his sweet and flirty personality poking though more and more everyday, I am so excited that we are completely past that floppy-infant stage and onto cute-baby stage. I mean, Yes, I’m a bit alarmed by how fast the last six months flew by, but after reading through some of my posts I recorded on what Taylor was doing around this time, I can’t wait for all the wonderfulness that is about to happen in this house with the upcoming milestones and holidays.

And while I know that I shouldn’t compare and contrast developmental-benchmarks between Taylor and Luke, because each kid is their own self, but she is the only point of reference that we’ve got. So the fact that at this point baby-Taylor was already sitting unassisted and Luke just face-plants into the carpet when you try to sit him up doesn’t stress me out. He’ll get it eventually. Or maybe he’ll just bypass sitting and stand up and jump, bounce and swing around the house, because that kid LOVES kicking his legs and catching air in all of his bouncing contraptions and the babyswing at the park.

So he’s not sitting up or crawling yet, but he’s becoming a bit of an expert at rolling towards an object that he wants. The other day I watched him as he log-rolled across the nursery to grab onto his mobile gym that I had stashed under his crib. He spied that soft, blue rattle on the other side of the room and revolved about five times until he finally reached the prize and tried to put it in his mouth. It was impressive. And I’m sure that if we spent more time on the carpet upstairs and not in the hardwood living room, he’d be closer to crawling. But he is getting better and better at lifting that giant melon of his off the floor, so I’m happy to know that our lounge area preference isn’t causing any serious setbacks.

We’ve gotten Luke onto more of a nap schedule this past month, with him laying down for a good 30-45 minutes in the morning and then for at least a few hours in the afternoon, which allows me some time to get house chores done and give his big sister some much needed one-on-one time. And I’m so happy about this, because if I know that I can get all my stuff done in that time while he’s snoozing and Taylor’s having her quiet time, then I’m much more likely to truly enjoy and fully participate in playtime when they’re both awake and ready to party, and not worry about the laundry that’s still in the washing machine or the food that needs to be diced and prepared for dinner. I just need to get those silly, not-that-important things off my mind. Because these kids are so freaking cute right now, and I am so blessed that I am home and able to savor every second of it. So there is no way I can justify sidestepping around playing with them in order to make sure our house is clean and organized.

So while we’re good on napping, he’s still not sleeping through the night. And in an effort to get him to sleep all night long, we’ve started him a bit before schedule on a few solid foods. First we tried rice cereal, which was utterly unclimactic, as it was nothing more than thickened up breastmilk. Which when it comes to his mother’s milk, Luke is strictly a boob-guy, and we’ve been fighting him to take a bottle for months. So us attempting to give him the good stuff via spoon was laughable, as he basically slapped it out of our hands and looked at us like, Um. Mom. Just lift up your shirt and feed me already.

And we kind of got the same reaction to bananas, but we were a bit more persistent with the real food. And he wasn’t too crazy about the sweet potatoes either. And just as I was about to give up all hope and concede that he was going to nurse until he was ten and I’d never get a full night’s sleep ever again, he showed some interest in mangoes.

And the next night he enjoyed a few peas.

And now we just need to work on him taking his bottle. And I totally blame myself for this one, as I haven’t allowed myself to be away from him for more then a handful of occasions, so giving him a bottle when his all-you-can-eat boob buffet is within an arms reach seemed silly. Plus I LOVE the just-him-and-me time that comes with nursing, the peaceful silence of him nuzzled into my body and me physically unable to do anything else but sit and stare at him, touch his soft, warm skin and just hold him. Maybe THAT’S why he’s such a big boy, as I probably take any chance I can get to have that closeness. But when he’s feeding and takes his free arm and stretches it towards me, grabbing my nose and mouth with his chubby little hand and pausing to hold my face... Well, it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s what makes waking up in the middle of the night bearable, washing four loads of soiled sheets and onesies a day manageable and trying to cook dinner while holding his hefty frame tolerable. He makes everything better. And I can’t imagine what my life would be like without him and that precious, flirty smile.