We are right in the heart of babyhood now.
He doesn't sleep through the night - he wakes sometimes six or seven times. Sometimes only three. Oh, those lucky three-wakeup-nights!
He grins at us when we walk in the room, and the joy makes me go weak at the knees.
He drools like a mad man.
He likes to be high up in the air, like a skydiver looking down.
He has a conehead still, from my very long labor. It is not the typical conehead, formed by his skull plates, but instead is a lump of calcified blood, and it might be permanent, so if he ever wants to go into modeling, he might have to model hats. Chances are, though, that it will go away.
He chews on our fingers, his fingers, my hair, my clothing, his clothing, the clothing I was trying to put in the giveaway pile yesterday, whatever he can reach.
I have not yet learned how to balance all the parts of this new life of ours. I feel dizzily overwhelmed most of the time. It's better if I concentrate on what is, and try to move forward, instead of what used to be, not least because used to be might have included a lot more free time, but it didn't include him, and I can't imagine that.
He is learning to play, although he would still rather be in our arms. And I try to soak that up, even if I sometimes wonder if I will ever get things done again, because I know there will be a time when he doesn't want to be held at all.
Already, the newborn days seem like a dim memory.
That could be from lack of sleep.
He works very hard at rolling over. And he is just learning to sit up, if only when I put him in that position. Rolling over and getting his knees up under his belly are his driving ambition. I hope he can harness that same perseverance and determination throughout his life.
His cheeks are SO pinchable, although I tend to pat them instead, he has just started belly-laughing, and I can't stop kissing his head!
Note: I stole my comment from Corey Amaro's Tongue in Cheek for the basis of this post.