Olive is 5 months old, and she’s huge – 99th percentile in height and weight, for those of you who speak pediatrician. She’s been wearing 6-9 month clothes for over a month already. Momma’s little prodigy.
I’ve decided that babies work like computers – their little brains search for automatic updates every night, and when they reboot in the morning they have these brilliant new capacities. Olive woke up one day and knew how to roll over, having never attempted it before. Blowing raspberries was a sensation out of nowhere. A recent update has placed her squarely in the full glory of the revelation that she has feet. Slightly stinky feet, actually, and she delights in me telling her so – it brings on fits of giggles that make my heart so full it nearly breaks. I’m telling you, she laughs and I nearly go out of my mind.
Per previous pictures, we are into baby food… other than peas, O hasn’t met a food she didn’t like. Actually, I was eating an eggroll yesterday while she was nursing and looked down later to find that she had somehow snagged a little carrot spear and was stealthily moving it in for a taste. How a kid who can’t hardly pick up a teething ring manages to swipe something so tiny – not to mention her savant-esque ability to grab the cat’s tail at the slightest reachable moment – is completely beyond me. It’s giftedness, I tell you.
My favorite thing lately is how she has decided to make me her barometer for life. A new noise hits her ears and her head whips in my direction, eyes widened and quizzical, a concerned little expression on her face. My response totally colors what happens next – if I look worried, she cries. If I smile, she smiles. If I sit there and look back at her with the same expression she’s giving me, then we stay there till I change it. Such responsibility! I could totally mess with the child and have her afraid of the ice cream truck if I wanted to. Which, of course, I don’t. Who could mess with a kid’s ability to enjoy ice cream??
My other favorite thing is when she gets all fierce with me. I’ll be holding her, we’ll be going about life like normal, and then all of a sudden she’ll tense up, growl, pull her knees as high up as she can get them, and start gumming my shoulder while shaking her head side to side like a Tyrannosaurus Rex tearing into its prey. Sometimes she’ll come back up with a mouthful of sweater; sometimes she goes in vampire style for my neck. Then she’ll stop, grin, and go back to life as normal. I’m thinking she gets this from her mother.
Olive is an empathetic little one – if she hears another baby cry, she gives me this sad, worried little look and then she starts to cry, too. If they stop, she stops. Between that and the fact that she’s been in marriage & family therapy classes since she was 3 weeks old, I’m thinking she’s going to be a counselor, like it or not. And probably a damned good one. She can teach her mom a thing or two. I’m teachable. Sometimes, anyway.
A record 8 1/2 hours of uninterrupted sleep occurred a couple of nights ago – we’ve been holding at 6-7 since she was six weeks old – and trust me, I am not looking that gift horse in the mouth! She completely passes out by 11pm and then wakes around 5:30-6, when I bring her into our bed to snuggle and nurse. Then she and Daddy sleep in while I head reluctantly off to work. The best part, I think – and what I miss during the week – is that waking up is heralded by singing. No crying, no fussing, just a slow slide into wakefulness accompanied by humming, chattering, and magical little melodies.
I am a mommy in love.