Dear Lex the Pex,
Things have not gone very smoothly this month but luckily you are adorable and so you continue to enjoy the position of resident, much-loved baby.
Not a fan of the heat (but a fan of the fan...)
It has been pretty hot and humid this month, and this did not sit well with me or with you, as it turns out. It intefered with your sleep (and therefore interfered with mine) and this all started when your daddy had gone away for a week to France, fishing with his mates. If ever I was at the end of my tether, it was that week, due in the main to lack of sleep - if only I could have found the electric fans, (they were in the shed I think), which we have now put to work, things might have gone better for all of us.
Anyway, there were some other new challenging behaviours of yours that saw fit to present themselves that week...
Still teething (Still no teeth!)
Your drooling, hand chewing, gum-grinding and general gurning has hit a new high. I have tried an amber teething necklance on you, which is very pretty but doesn't seem to do you much good. I'm too afraid to leave it on you while you sleep, so the fault could be mine. I take it off while you sleep because I can't shake the horrible fear of being the woman who let you strangle on an anti-teething necklace in order to save on infant Nurofen - how ever dumb that is, I can't get past it, what can I tell you...
So, you toothless wonder, the teething beat goes on, and I say unto you again: Slacker. X
There was one in the bed and the little one said, "Roll over! Roll over"
In addition to the disturbances caused by the heat and the incessant teething, you have started rolling onto your stomach just before you fall asleep (and sometimes while you are asleep).
This tends to lead to some initial and quite enchanting giggling on your part, and sleeping bag flapping and general cot banging, which begins as playful baby frolicks and gradually rises to a crescendo of outraged frustration when you are unable to flip back, probably because you often get your legs stuck in the cot bars (while you're still in your sleeping bag - it would be a neat trick if you could get yourself out again.)
All this causes your body temperature to rise to that of liquid magma in the already unbearable heat, the teething makes you super-extra cranky and so in no time at all you become a frantic, sweaty, angry bundle and I end up almost no teeth myself due to excessive grinding (the grinding stops me from throwing the baby out the window - its a sacrifice but its absolutely worth it.)
Consistently Inconsistent
Actually that's not really true, you are quite consistent in general, but during the week of hell, that's how it felt to me. In fact what you were doing was not being inconsistent so much as adjusting your routine. So now instead of having an hour and a half at 9am, 1pm and then half an hour at 5, you now have an hour and a half at 10, and hour and a half at 3 and then that's it. We're still dream feeding you and doing that late because whenever we try to give less a bit earlier you wake up earlier and we don't like that. We would sooner dream feed you til your 10 years old and have you sleep to 7 or later, than endure the horrors of early early waking, which we could still get at any point, but please God no, don't let it happen, Amen.
"When will I see you...again?"
At around six or seven months babies start to realise that they are separate from their mothers and that they are individual entities. You decided to realise this in one of the worst weeks we have had together, just to make it super special and totally impossible. Don't worry, I know you haven't done any of this on purpose, the bitter tone of this post is not directed at you but at fate, because you are lovely and fate is occasionally not.
Anyway, separate entities. That doesn't sound so bad, does it? Woo hoo! That's not my bad hair day, that's Mummy's bad hair day! You'd think you'd be relieved to reach this important understanding of your separate physical identity. But no. Apparently it's very upsetting. I put you down. You bawl. I pick you up. You coo. I put you down. More screaming. You get the picture. It's totally fine if you have nothing to do but hold a gorgeous, dumpling baby. If only.... so there has been a LOT of crying. I hope my neighbours don't think I'm neglecting you. I promise, neighbours, I'm not. Honest :D Unless putting the baby down and doing the dishes counts. In which case, I am. :(
Lexina, The Diddy Dalek
You have really gotten into zipping about in the baby walker, and I quickly dubbed you the diddy dalek, for my own alliterative amusement. It's a bit easier for you to get over the carpet now that your daddy has unscrewed some unhelpful attachements from the bottom which seem to have been designed expressly for the purpose of making it very hard for a baby to move the walker over carpet.
You like to roll over to me while I'm having breakfast, make adorable eyes in my direction and wait until I send you shooting across the kitchen (in the walker!) by means of a well-placed foot, burbling with delight as you go, until you get yourself turned around and you come back for more of the same. That's always a lovely part of my morning :D
You have also figured out that you can corner the dog. Luckily for the dog, she has figured out that she can jump over the walker, or sidle out of the back door or creep under the kitchen table. To her credit, she never so much as shoves you, let alone nips or growls at your frankly annoying (to her) obsession with backing her into inanimate objects and then letting forth earsplitting screeches of delight.
If you could stop running into the back of my ankles and over my toes, that would be great. But it is worth it, because you are very funny in that baby walker. You seem to get drunk with the sudden ability at mobility. You are in fact the cheap date of upright motion. Totally tipsy on tip toes. God, I love you, little baby!
Not Much Hair Today, Not Much Prospect of More Hair Tomorrow
The parts of your fragrant little baby scalp that have always pushed out your fine, fluffy hair continue to do so, and so your hair is longer than last month, and a lot of it sticks up - your daddy refers to you as Stan Laurel, because it's so mad and sticky-uppy. Sadly you still have that receding forehead look, and so your current look is part baby, part mad professor and part Phil Collins, which may explain the way that you drum on, oh, EVERYTHING, ALL THE TIME, WITH BOTH HANDS!
Piano Playing Poppet
You don't have a piano, but you seem to like to enjoy pretending, whether assisted or not. Perhaps we should get you a toy piano. It's like a double-handed wave gone mad, and can be produced by waving at you, talking to you, or just existing in your presence. Crazy child. x
Crawling
I am pleased to report that we have no crawling. Yet. That is all.
All in all I am pleased to say that we all seem to have made it through the month in one piece, and if you're in any doubt at all (and I sincerely hope you are not) I still love you, love you, love you, my precious little pain in the bum, dribble-fest, smelly bum
Love from your Mummy with the very bad hair every day xxx
To see what Georgie was like at 8 Months old click here
