Seven months

Our little girl turns seven months old today. I’d celebrate with her, but she refuses to stay put for more than two seconds.

Hold on—she’s scooted across the room and is trying to chew on the door frame. I’ll be right back.

Earlier this week I was doing something in the kitchen. When I looked up a moment later, she had scooted backwards behind the armchair. I picked her up and picked pieces of lint and dirt off her jammies. I’m learning a lot as she becomes more mobile, like how to position her in the center of a room and that I need to vacuum more often.

Diaper changes have become a wrestling match, too. She flips over and tries to launch herself off the changing pad (which we keep on the floor so there’s no risk of her doing a header off the dresser). When I hold her feet up to wipe her unders, she gets even more acrobatic. As she prepares for a career in the high dive, I’ve gotten pretty good at putting a diaper on her when she’s belly-down.

I’ve also perfected my barnyard animal noises. Sounding like a donkey—or better yet, a sheep—keeps her still while she’s in her altogether. If Old MacDonald doesn’t work, I break out the robot-siren-underwater sea creature sounds.

I wonder what the neighbors think of those.

Wait, I don’t care. If sounding like an ambulance from outer space keeps my baby stationary enough to put on her Huggies, so be it.

Looking back a month ago—one of the great benefits of keeping this blog—I realize how far we’ve come in 31 days in more ways than her mobility. At certain points in January I was ready to run away or at least hide under the furniture.

Since then, we’ve gotten Edith’s sleeping situation more under control. (More on that later.) Sometimes in the evenings now, I look up and realize that Edith is asleep and I have a little energy. It’s not enough to, say, go to they gym or even wash the dishes, but it’s enough to have a glass of wine and watch a few minutes of Lord of the Rings. And that is an enormous difference.

We’ll see how long that energy lasts when Edith gains the coordination to crawl instead of scoot. But for the time being, I’ll enjoy sipping my Pinot Noir and making fun of Legolas’s one-liners.