Thursday, May 10, 2012

pine needles everywhere

J-man is seven-months-old.  Seven months and two weeks, to be slightly more precise.  I've been his mother for all of those months, plus nine more.

I like it.

Here's what I've learned about my son so far.  He's a big guy, long like his mama, lean like his papa.  He might be a red head, although it's somewhat hard to tell because of the scarcity of hair so far.  He's a talker, a screamer even, when he's comfortable, which is most of them time.  When he's in a new situation, he goes quiet, and his eyes focus intently on whatever it is he's learning.  He's a serious student. 

When he dreams, he often makes little sucking movements with his mouth, so I assume he's dreaming about eating.  This would make sense, as he loves to eat.  He's just started solids, and seems to be a veggie guy over fruits, which makes him like his mama.  He's so intrigued by everything we put in our mouths, and I know he would have loved it if we just let him dig into the chili we were having last night, but I imagine that would have done something to the still-new smell of his little digestive system.  Plus, he's only got those three teeth to work with, although two more are ready to make their appearance at any time. That is correct: my seven-month-old has nearly five teeth.  He's so advanced!

J-man smiles all the time.  All the time, even when he's sad.  I can't count the number of times we've heard someone say, "what a happy baby!" with just a touch of surprise in their voice.  Lately he's started to "flirt" with new acquaintances and strangers, smiling at them coyly and then burying his head in my chest, then turning back to give them a toothy grin.  At the grocery store I often turn around to see him making a new friend from his seat in the shopping cart with whomever is in the checkout line behind us.  One of my favorite stories will always be how he and another little boy at the YMCA daycare sat and made each other laugh for five solid minutes while I worked out one morning.  He's a charmer, this one.

On the rare occasion that he does cry, it's usually because he's hungry, or sleepy.  When he's sleepy, nothing puts him out like the white noise app I desperately downloaded on my iPhone one day in the midst of a screaming fit.  He was screaming, not me.  If I can't use the white noise, and if he's just fussing a little bit, he seems to prefer the soundtrack to We Bought A Zoo by Jonsi from Sigur Ros, which means he has more sophisticated taste in music than me.  His favorite place to sleep is in my arms, second favorite is in our bed, then in his carseat, then in his crib, which means I've spent more than several minutes in our driveway waiting for him to wake up, or stuck on the couch needing to use the restroom but unable to move.  Of course, when he does wake up, he's usually smiling, so I don't know why I worry about it.  He's always smiling.  

So that's my boy, and that's my life.  This is how I spend my days now, with a smiling, toothy, growing boy.  And three dogs, of course.  Always the dogs.  This is my entourage, and we spend our days out in the rainy forest, tracking pine needles in and out of the house.  Pine needles everywhere.

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