You require way too much time- it's keeping me from my blog.
Today you are five months and ten days old. I have no idea how many weeks that is and I fear that makes me a bad mother. I'm sure most women count weeks for much longer than this. There are probably mothers out there who can tell you that their children are 166 weeks old. I have also stopped reading the baby books to see what you should be doing. It's highly possible that you should be able to macarena and recite a sonnet or two and I should take you to the doctor immediately to find out what's holding you back.
But, I figure you're you and you'll do things when you're ready. Besides your father reads the baby books every now and again and from what he tells me, you seem to be ahead of the game.
Which reminds me, we went to your first playgroup yesterday. There was an eight-month-old girl there who was barely sitting up much less crawling and had no teeth. Not that you're crawling, but I would bet a considerable sum that you will be in three months. Plus she was kind of an ugly baby, making you superior in every way. Also, I could not stand her mother, which is probably the source of my bitterness.
The other babies were cute enough and right around your age. None of them had teeth, either, which is not really surprising if you believe that early teeth are a sign of intelligence, as the women who spawned them were markedly lacking in that department. I'm trying to keep an open mind and be friends with these women, but it will be hard for me. I am probably doomed to fail. Besides, I'm pretty sure they're republicans. However long I hold out, just know that it's all for you.
We (they) spent a good deal of time discussing how dangerous the world is and how you can't let your kids do anything anymore because there are rapists and kidnappers galore. I kept my mouth shut lest they kick me out, but I hope to god that I did not raise you to be perpetually afraid of everyone in every situation. Yes, there are bad people out there, but you are far more likely to be molested by an uncle or a family friend than by a stranger- like 3000 times more likely or something ridiculous like that (see Pen&Teller's "Stranger Danger" episode of Bullshit).
Never talk to strangers, unless you want to meet anyone ever.
On another note, you are awesome. Just incredibly awesome and fun and probably brilliant. We still have sleep problems, but I'm getting to the point where I absolutely cannot watch you cry, so I'm just going to suffer through the waking up and letting you sleep with us until a better option presents itself. I heard of a woman who didn't sleep through the night for four years and my goal right now is not to best her.
You have an extensive wardrobe. I just bought you some corduroys and long-sleeved t-shirts. You may never get to wear them, depending on if "winter" comes. If you can't wear them, you just may spend the next few months naked, since there are no shorts or short-sleeved t's to be found until the stores get their spring collections and you will soon outgrow the ones that fit you now.
Your hands and feet seem huge to me these days, like a large-breed puppy. It's so hard to imagine the giant of a man you are likely to become. Your legs felt long and sturdy as I carried you to bed last night and, for the first time, I could picture what you will be like as a little boy.
You have woken up and I must go (priorities). Someday soon I expect to enter your room after a nap and find you sitting up in your crib. If, that is, you ever learn to sleep without a swaddle.
Love,
Mom
