Dear Harper — Month Five

This has been a doozy of a month with you. I've told your father on more than one occasion that if you weren't so damn cute, I'd probably sell you to the circus. All in jest, of course, because we love you more with each day that passes, even if you use your soft little hands to do no good, like to pull the hair at the base of my neck. Or to dig your fingernails into my chest when you nurse. Or, even better, into the nipple itself.

We think you've been suffering through a combo of two growth spurts at once and teething (and perhaps puberty), because you've really been living up to your nicknames of Crank Bot, Mr. Grumpers and Amy Whinehouse (just to name a few). You can no longer go to sleep on your own, a change that has left your father and I kind of shocked. Since you were about 10 weeks old, we'd been putting you down awake in your bed, and you would fall asleep. Not always right away (sometimes we'd have to report for pacifier-sticking-in duty about 20 times), but you would sleep. And now? Mommy has to wedge herself onto your bed and present you with The Boob, because The Pacifier is soooo 2000 and late, Mommy. This knocks you out in about 10 minutes, so I'm trying to tell myself that this is no big deal, but on the other hand, I really don't want you to be dependent on me for sleeping. But we are no fans of letting you cry, and if it's my boob you need, then my boob you shall receive.

Oh, ye old boobs, which is where you are right now, with your hand pulling on my bottom lip:


Oh, now you're twisting the skin on my upper arm. Thank you, Sir, may I have another? We've been doing some baby sign language with you, and you really do know the sign for milk. We use that when you're crying and it shuts you up for two seconds. Then the wailing turns into "Uhuhuhuhuhuh mamamamamama..." Then if I can't get el Boobo out fast enough, you just return to your regularly scheduled program of wailing. You've been saying something like "mama" for a while now, and even though I think you're a genius baby whom I'll be able to get to do my taxes in a few short years, I've been hesitant to think that you're actually referring to me when you say it. Honestly, I think you're referring to the milk. Or maybe you do mean me.

The best thing that happened this month was your discovery of Lilly as someone to play with. And the second best thing is that Lilly tolerates your clumsy efforts at petting her, lets you drool all over her fur and sometimes even lets you pull on her ears. If she's had enough, she'll just move her head out of reach. Right now, however, you are at Lilly's mercy, in that you have to wait for her to mosey in your direction, something you always greet with cries of "Ooooh! Oooooh!" And when Lilly doesn't do what you want her to do, you react as you usually do when something displeases you: You cry. Word to the wise, H-Dawg: Lilly doesn't do anything anyone wants her to do. Don't take it personally. Plus, I am convinced that the combo of breastfeeding and doggie germs have kept you from getting sick thus far.


You've got the whole rolling from your back to your stomach thing down to a science, and you particularly like to employ it at 2 a.m., when hunger strikes. I usually wake up to the sound of you rolling over to me. The one problem with all this rolling is that you still cannot roll back. I have the feeling that you're not even really interested in rolling back ... you are more interested in forward locomotion. And this fails miserably everytime, which then ignites your anger like nothing else. It really is like watching evolution happen with your prehistoric attempts at crawling. In a few months, nothing will be safe from your prodding hands and drooly mouth around here, and then Lilly will curse the day she ever thought she had the upper paw in her relationship with you.


I can't believe how fast the time is flying with you. Every day you're turning more and more into a little girl and becoming less and less the baby we brought home from the hospital five months ago today. We love every second with you, even if a lot of them are spent with you whining, spitting up curdled milk onto us, then laughing at us. But maybe you're laughing with us ...

Love,
Mama

This month's nicknames: Grumpers, Grump Bear, Grump Bot, Baby Bear, Sir Grumps-A-Lot, Amy Whinehouse, Harper Bear

This month's song: Something to See by Tracy Chapman