Michael’s daycare lady told me a funny tidbit yesterday. There’s a new kid in the group, a boy close to Michael’s age whose secondary caregivers were his grandparents during his first year. So this makes him leery of strangers like me and leery of the daycare lady going out of view, making him cry — a lot. Michael and this boy were sitting in their respective high chairs for breakfast, and this boy was crying — again. Daycare lady said Michael turned to him and said, “stop.”
LOL!
This is about 20 days late, but you know what? I don’t care! Now he’s walking as if he’s been walking all his life. He doesn’t even like to come to anyone when he’s walking because he knows that someone will pick him up and he wants to walk!
I often ask my husband, “do you think we should have had a baby sooner?” Michael is about 7 1/2 months old now, and he’s at such a fun age. Whenever he sees me, he grins with his whole mouth and he seriously thinks I’m the funniest person EVAR. (I’m going to remind him when he’s a teenager and thinks I’m so not amusing…) When I pick him up at daycare, I like to walk up quietly so that he can see me and be surprised. When he does finally see me, his eyes light up, his whole face breaks out into a grin and he starts pumping his legs excitedly. I love it. I’ve never had anyone be so excited to see me!
He’s growing so fast though, both in intelligence and motor skills. It’s seriously so incredibly amazing. I now understand how so many women love babies and totally miss when their children were babies.
Michael, right now, is sitting up on his own easily and loves his dub-dub — a teal green elephant with a rattle on one paw, rings on another, a teether on a foot, and a rattle on the inside of the last foot. Oh, and he squeaks when you squeeze his tummy. Also, he loves the latest toy we got him — squeezable, chewable and very colorful rubber blocks. He’s also so close to crawling — I’ve been joking that he’s perfecting his Pilates “bridge” move, while his daycare lady once exclaimed to me that he can do the downward dog yoga pose.
And, he’s been babbling. And its the most adorable thing ever. That’s where the dub-dub nickname came from — there was one day where I could swear that was all he was babbling — “dub dub dub dab dub dub dab dub!” And sometimes, in his babbling, I could swear he’s actually communicating with us.
For example, the other day, I finished feeding him, and said to him,” OK, Mikey. You hang out with daddy, and I have to get dressed for work, then we’ll go downstairs, OK?” I had just set him down, sitting, on the bed, and he immediately reached for dub dub, and I could swear he said, “OK.” I immediately looked at Trin and was like, “did he just — ?!” We both laughed hysterically. Another time, I had asked him if it was OK if I could get dressed, and it totally seemed like he said, “uh huh.” Has this boy been here before???
Oh my goodness, he’s so adorably cuddly now. I love this time. I kind of want him to never grow up from this time, but I’m so eager to do more with him — go to Sea World! go to Disneyland! take him on a vacation! Sigh. I adore this boy.
Michael’s daycare lady now understands. She deals with it when other parents come to drop off and pick up their kids from her daycare. People are constantly commenting, “Oh, he’s so small!” when admiring Michael. Ahem.
The latest instance was as I waited for my dinner earlier. I was waiting outside, talking and playing with Michael, when a father carrying a baby in a carrier stopped and looked inside Michael’s car seat (which snaps into a stroller frame) and said those gratingly annoying words, “Oh, he’s so small!”
Oh, I’m sorry your 7-month-old is a GIGANTOR and you think my perfectly healthy, happy baby is small.
What exactly are these people trying to say? Are they trying to say, in not so many words, that I am not nourishing Michael adequately?
First off, Michael was a preemie. Michael was born at 3 pounds, 7 ounces a month early, but unlike most (fat) babies, he was born with his eyes wide open, curious and nosy as his own journalist parents. At 5 1/2 months, Michael is probably about 12 pounds, which apparently puts him below the fifth percentile. So what? So he’s not bigger or fatter than most babies? I see nothing wrong with that.
Here’s what’s important. Michael sees everything. He watches me as I get ready in the morning, following me from one side of the room to the other. He talks to us, in his baby babble. He’s beginning to grab at stuff and feel the textures he can get his hands on. He can keep his head and back up, straight and steady, and is now happily eating first stage solids (and in fact, I think he quite enjoyed the sweet peas I started him on). He can hold his head up and roll from his tummy to his back, easily. He’s now giggling when I tickle him.
So what if he’s “small?” I love him no less. He’s just as healthy and happy as any baby who’s in the “normal” percentile. And what if those percentiles just trend higher because babies are getting fatter?
I’m not entirely sure why people feel the need to make comments like, “Oh, he’s so small!” or “Oh, he’s so big!” I can’t remember ever making a comment like that about a baby who has no control whatsoever over his physical size. So, since the baby doesn’t have any control over his or her size or weight, they must be making some backhanded statement on the parents’ ability to take care of their child. And seeing as how Michael is as healthy as he is, and seems to be making his milestones like most kids and not like a preemie, all you people who want to blurt out, “Oh, he’s so small!” can just shut your trap.
My son is just perfect. Your baby might just be fat.
Michael has been sleeping really well. Last night, I put him down at about 7:30-7:45 and he woke up about 6:15 a.m. It was just as well, since I, for some reason, kept waking up earlier than I needed to. So when Michael started stirring, I picked him up and lay down with him for a bit. He wanted out of his swaddle right away, of course, so he could stretch and we looked at each other, cooing and smiling adoringly at each other. I tried to sit him down in the crook of my arm, but he didn’t want that, so I leaned him against my chest.
He looked at me, eyes bright, and farted. Then he laughed.
How is my baby such a joker boy already???