Month Five

Little girl, you are so loved; you will never know how much, because I can't even measure it when I try to think about it, and I wouldn't want to. It's infinite. You can't do anything to change that, ever, future piercings and icky boyfriends be damned. You are an amazon - 27 inches tall and 16 pounds, 12 ounces, according to your checkup yesterday. Your hands and feet are fathoms farther along than Kane's were at this stage - it's pretty funny to compare (and that's all I'll compare, I swear - just the silly physical stat stuff). You are mostly wearing old clothes from Madison (Holly's girl) and Zenaida (Lizette's girl), but I have had to ask them to send me their stuff for 12-month-olds, because that is what you're in, now. You are a gentle person, already. It's obvious. You drink everything in, and smile so sweetly when Mommy or Daddy or Kane comes into view. When I peer over at you in the crib, you get a big, beautiful gummy grin and flap your arms and legs like you're trying to take off, so pure and powerful is your joy at seeing someone you like. It makes me want to flap back, and a few times, I pretty much have. Have I told you how much I adore the way you like to hold on to me when I hold you or when I'm lying near you? You like to study my hands and turn them over in your little (long) ones, and when I carry you around, you grab a fistful of shirt or hair and refuse to let go, but not in a desperate, I-think-you're-going-to-drop-me kind of way. More like a you-stick-with-me, Mommy-okay? kind of thing. And always, your big gorgeous green eyes are tracking everything in. You get a look of such glee on your face when we include you in playtime when Kane's near, like you are so happy to be included. You always grab at the toy I put in your hand and smile and look over to see if Kane's watching how you can be just like him. This morning, I had the two of you on our bed, and you were covered with your pink blanket that Kane keep confiscating. Kane knew he had to share, so he decided to instead give your hugs and just rest himself on your belly with his arms around you. I just drank that moment in, because I know I'll be playing it back in my head over and over, and particularly on times when I feel so tired I want to cry and can't get a minute to rest, I will remember that five-minute span where time kind of stopped for me and I just felt so good about everything and about the fact that your two are happy and healthy and that I made the best choices when it came to having you two. Then I got all anal and anti-Zen and decided to run for the camera and got it on digital for posterity. You are a rolling machine, now, though it's all about your left side. You are also a big proponent of turning yourself in a full circle when lying on the floor, which makes me flash back to 1983 and breakdancing, but without the footie pajamas you're now living in. You are gaining some serious dexterity in your fingers, now, too, and you reach out to try and grab things (and shove them in your mouth). You give the cutest little furrowed brow expression when you hold something new, or when I put one of Kane's cars on your booster chair and watch you try to move it. You try to grab the bottle and hold it sometimes (for a second, just to feel the sensation) and like to rest your hands on things to test their weight and feel. Your hair is still curling and I am fighting daily urges to trim it, because your right side has very long curls covering your ear, and your left side has only a wisp or two, and mostly short hair. The top is growing longer and lush, and is a gorgoues shade of coppery brown. Yes, I stare at you often and with awe. Get used to it; many people will do this to you, I predict. You have a favorite sound you love to make - a long crescendo of a squeal - that you practice over and over with a smile on your face. If I mimic you, you do your flapping routine again, and I just start laughing. A couple of weeks ago, it was the soft raspberry sound, complete with bubbles, but you feel you have graduated now. It probably also has something to do with Kane's fondness for the squeal, I won't deny it. You are a binkie child, just like your brother. I thought for sure you were going to bypass it and just use the thumb, but there was a time about a month ago when you started teething (yes, you minx; you are teething crazy early, and it's your fangs coming in first and coming in s-l-o-w) when nothing seemed to placate you - not the bottle, boob or fingers (though you continue to chomp on them like there's no tomorrow - the fingers, not the boob, necessarily). I stuck one random binkie in your mouth that I had left from a failed attempt at pacifying you in the first month, and you immediately sucked on it and looked at me with such relief, like: "Thank GOD." You are loath to part with it at night time or when you're tired in general. So yeah, I have a longer future ahead of me frought with finding lost binkies in the car and in the middle of the night. I'd take a hundred thousand bullets for you, kid, just to know you're safe and happy.