Twenty four weeks.

A simple snotty cold combined with two fresh bottom teeth erupting made for one unhappy babe during the first half of your twenty fourth week. You cried when I set you down. You only napped for twenty minutes at a time. You really started to hate it when we wiped the boogers off of your face. You woke up to nurse every two hours. You were bored to boot and I wore myself out attempting to keep up with your constantly changing moods. The second half was much better, once you could breathe through your nose and the teeth were no longer working their way through your gums. Honestly though, this week was a blur for me and I did not write down a single note- no nap times, no nothing. I do remember much of it, though I'm guessing I blocked out the very worst parts.

You sit up in your high chair now and at breakfast I give you half a banana or a quarter of an avocado. I keep the peels on since it makes it easier for you to grip. While I eat my toast you proceed to smoosh your breakfast, smearing all over yourself, the chair, and the dog. About half of whatever I give you ends up in your mouth. You love this interaction though and are so happy to eat alongside me. Sometimes we give you another nibble at dinner time. We have mostly given up on spoons, instead preferring to let you figure things out for yourself with the real deal. This means I almost never have to cook or puree anything and you get the fun learning hand to mouth experience. Sometimes you wear a bib but mostly I just put you in the chair with just a diaper on, rinsing you off afterwards in the kitchen sink. You like to grab the water as it comes out of the faucet. One sunny afternoon you and your baby boyfriend crawled through every color of tempera paint, making art on torn out book pages and letting your mom make a print of your butt. Afterwards we rinsed you both off in the kiddie pool and you proceeded to eat and then take a two hour nap. Water and sunshine make for a very tired baby.

We bought a bonafide baby jail, a wooden playpen currently occupying a corner of the living room. You scoot and crawl so quickly now that I felt nervous just leaving you on the floor unsupervised for any length of times. And sometimes I need to shower. You hated it initially, wailing as soon as you realized you were surrounded by obstacles. Now though, you are content to stay in it for ten minutes here, twenty minutes there. In one corner of it I put a soft basket that holds your latest favorite things to chew on. You love to upturn the whole basket and attend to each toy, dutifully chewing on each item and pushing them from corner to corner. We have also purchased a crib, which is in transit as we speak. Partially because of your tendency to fall out of the bed, no matter how many pillows are supposedly barricading the edges. Partially because you are masterful at becoming the midnight crossbar in a familial "H" kicking your mother and punching your father simultaneously. And partially just to see what happens. We anticipate that you will spend 60% of your sleeping time in it. The hours between 8:00 and 12:00 are a given. I am hoping you will nap there as well, if only for my peace of mind. I am weary of finding you in the middle of the bedroom floor.

You grew stronger this week. One day you could not sit, the next you could. You are wobbly still but will sit unsupported, or in a high chair, or up against the couch. You are easy to carry, as you are pulling some of your own weight now. Your legs dangle out of the swing and the stroller. You fill spaces you didn't used to. You roll like a log as you settle down to sleep. I used to nurse you to sleep every evening and every nap. Now you eat for a minute or two and then roll over and put your favorite two fingers in your mouth. This is the cue to leave you to it. Sometimes I get up and do things around the bedroom... folding clothes, organizing the closet. You like knowing one of us is nearby. There is one rule, however: Do not make eye contact. If you do, the whole operation has to start over. If we decide to check on you mid nap, it is best done from around the corner. One glimpse of your belly moving up and down and then run away! If you were to roll over and glimpse us around the doorway you would either smile or cry but you would definitely be done with sleep.

We celebrated. Two years of marriage and our first Father's Day. Grandpapa babysat while we treated ourselves to artisanal whiskey drinks and brick oven pizza. We came home to a sleeping baby, cold champagne, and late night card games. Father's Day morning you and I went to the grocery while Pop slept in. We picked up flowers and bacon for breakfast and wrapped up a photo book for him to enjoy. Later we brought dinner to your Grandpapa's complete with a recreated photo of myself at five months old. Everyone tells us that it all goes by so quickly. I hadn't felt like this was true for us yet until I combed through pictures from your first days of life. It doesn't seem real, that you were ever so young. Almost six months have gone by very quickly. I find myself missing certain behaviors that you dropped long ago. You never fall asleep on our chests or while nursing. We no longer applaud every single poopy diaper. You are not always soft or gentle, trading in those baby traits for strength and stubbornness, plus sharp teeth. But the nostalgia is fleeting- what you're doing these days is so much more exciting. You recognize us, and dare I say, you like us! You are decisive in your movements, fixing your eyes on the prize and moving with great gusto. You are gorgeous and I love nothing more than seeing your eyes alight on something totally new and unique to you, something never before seen. You smile every day when Pop walks in the door and you let out cackles from the swing in the yard. You really seem to enjoy yourself and all of us are enjoying you.

Twenty two and Twenty three weeks.

It's always incredible, how much you change in the span of two weeks. Your twenty second week was an all-hands-on-deck multi tasking extravaganza, leading up to our big departure to the great state of Vermont. In the days before our trip you worked your usual charms. You ate sweet potatoes with much enthusiasm, you accompanied me on many an errand, you fell asleep at 7:00 more than once- exhausted from the days' missions accomplished. 

We made a very early flight, gently transferring you from bed to car seat long before sunrise. You stayed in the Ergo through the security checkpoints and boarded our first flight with wide eyed trepidation. You cried and fussed during takeoff, refusing to nurse and displeased entirely with your current situation. We occupied you with everything in our arsenal to little avail. Sophie had been forgotten at home and it is indeed hard to sleep sitting up, rendering you a very unhappy baby indeed. You dozed off just in time for us to land in Washington D.C. The flight may have been bumpy but we felt back on track as we boarded a shuttle at 8:30- your usual get up and go time. The second flight proved much easier and rendered you an angel in our eyes. You ate some, played plenty, and we discovered all that is a plastic cup- a magical object that kept you occupied for the next four days. After strapping you into a rental car we made our way to an authentic diner outside of Albany where you dozed under a blanket and your parents drank chocolate milk shakes. 

We all crashed hard after arriving at the motel. A family nap commenced in the king sized bed until the late afternoon. Coffee was procured and we made our way to the college. I put you in all the layers I could as it was fast approaching 40 degrees. At the campus I strapped you back into the Ergo and we walked in the dusk towards a renovated barn where a dear friend would perform his final piano recital. It was wonderful. In the darkness you dozed, rousing after every round of applause, but never making a peep. Post performance you met numerous friends and professors and received many compliments on your well behaved demeanor and complete human qualities. We beamed and enjoyed your magnetic capabilities as many a stranger felt compelled to come up and squeeze your foot. The evening ended with a meal at a local tavern, with the dining room all to ourselves. You ate and slept in the car seat and even though it was way past your bedtime you were hugged and squeezed by all. 

On our first full day in Bennington you woke up in the best mood. You ate well, hungry after an exhausting day of travel and new faces. You napped here and there as we made our way to all the local sights. We visited the top of the Monument and cruised by a haunted inn. You ate under a tree outside Robert Frost's house and rode around on Pop's back inside the museum. We all unloaded for a motel nap followed by tea at a professor's house (she had specifically requested we "bring the baby"). A two person diaper change in the trunk of the rental car was followed by a late dinner. For the entirety of the trip we used disposable diapers- a nice change thanks to their slimming silhouette and ease of disposal. At dinner you slept in the Ergo with a napkin on your head.

And then you were five months old! We ate a big diner breakfast where you charmed all the waitresses. This was the day you figured out the beginnings of a crawl, making moves on the ever amazing plastic cup. You almost appear to be doing a butterfly stroke on land (or on bedspread) bringing your hands together in a joint effort that propels you forward. You napped in the car while we popped into a health food store and slept again back at the motel. We tried throughout the trip to give you the time you needed to rest. Dropping everything so that you can nap to the fullest usually ensures a good evening and a happy baby. We made our way (in one of your cutest outfits) to the Commencement dinner at the college where you gnawed on your Uncle's finger and we walked laps with you during the speeches. You attracted lots of attention and received many more compliments on your evident sweetness. It was nice knowing that although you may not remember this trip, the natural beauty of Vermont has nevertheless made its impact on your person. We wound down the evening in front of a roaring Common Room fire with pilfered wine. We kept you out fifteen minutes too long however, as we rushed out to the car without goodbyes while you wailed in protest of not being in bed. Not our shiniest moment.

Finally the big day arrived. We dressed you in a vintage dress adorned with gingham and embroidered kittens. We made our way to the college and followed the crowds towards the big tent where the low key ceremony was peppered with wonderful speeches and applause after every student's name was called. We jumped and clapped for your Uncle's friends and when the list reached the "M"s you were high on Pop's shoulders, stunned by all the clapping. We all was said and done we took pictures on the lawn and you fell asleep quickly. Our evening was rounded off with a delicious meal with friends and family where you put up a bit of a fuss but wound down in the car seat while Pop rocked you. We covered you up parakeet style and you slept through the entrees and dessert. 

In the hours before heading to the airport we packed up the room and practiced more crawling. Coffee was drunk and at the college you napped in the shade of a tree outside the dorms. Everyone helped in getting your Uncle's 1981 Volkswagen Rabbit packed to the gills and when you woke up we took you out into the big open field and tossed you in the air. You wore your sunhat with flair and goodbyes were said as we piled into the three car caravan and made our way back to the airport in New York. The Ergo once again made travelling a breeze as we went through security and up to the gate. The following two flights were, shall we say, difficult. Thankfully your worst behavior isn't really that bad and stressful as it might have been on us you still did pretty well considering the circumstances. Driving with you is easier though.

The beginning of your twenty third week was an easy day. You ate well and took nice long naps, going down with nary a fuss. You were in a sweet calm mood and played on your own for thirty minutes at a time. It was almost worth the exhaustion of travelling just to have a perfect Monday with you, even if the plumbing disaster of the year (decade?) was going on simultaneously. I went and got a much needed massage the following evening while you hung out with Grandma and Pop. You got hungry and wailed a bit but made a quick rebound upon my return. As we went to bed that night you sounded a little sniffly. By the next day, in the midst of your Grandma's retirement luncheon, I could tell you were sick with a fever. Your nose was running and you didn't care to eat. Everyone complimented you on your good behavior but I could tell you were just calm because you were feeling too bad to do much at all. Once home I put you straight in bed and took your temperature- 101! You stayed in bed the rest of the day, miserable, and not too keen on eating. I feel as though I have been waiting with bated breath your entire infancy for the moment when you would get sick- the sense of relief I felt now that it's happened has been surprising. Of course the airport would be the place to bring home a little virus. And you would get me sick too, given your favorite pastime of putting your hands in my mouth. 

You spent a lot of time in bed and we did take a quick trip to the pediatrician to rule out pneumonia or the measles. We didn't get the best sleep but you have bounced back very quickly. A testament to your strong nature and the power of breast milk. These days you are happy to sit in your high chair and throw things on the floor while I cook. You tasted blueberry, cherry, peach, lemon, more sweet potatoes, a cherry tomato fresh from the garden, and carrot stick again. Your first tooth has started to break through, noticed by your Uncle as you chomped down on his finger. You felt rain drops and dog tails. You crawled ten feet while my back was turned. You had your first bug bites and not enough baths. You laugh when we pretend to eat you up. We read you books from memory and regularly rearrange the living room in your favor. 

After the blur of travel and sickness we feel drawn towards restful mornings and afternoons outside. Time spent crawling and sitting, moving and shaking. Books read aloud and no swing left unswung. Tasty morsels and lazy hours milk drunk. You are sweet and silly, head strong and physical. You've always been keen to move and we're keen on keeping up. We sure like where you're headed these days.