August 23, 2006
4 Months
Bean-
Yesterday you turned four months old. Your bemused smoker’s hack has been replaced with tinkling giggles and shrieks of gut-busting laughter. The entire world amuses you. Just about anything makes you laugh. The one exception is your dad’s burping: that terrifies you and makes you cry, well, like a baby.
You’ve decided this month that remaining horizontal is for babies. For citified, mature girls like you, sitting and standing are the only way to go. You still have to wait for your muscles to catch up to your demands, but why worry about abdominal muscles supporting your weight when mommy and daddy are there to prop you up for an hour at a time, right?
More than anything, you love to have us help pull you from a lying to a standing position. You shriek with laughter as if mama just gave you 100 puppies. You look like a hula dancer as you wobble, but your peals of laughter make up for it. I never realized that standing was quite so funny, but there you go.
Some days you lose the battle for consciousness, and, against your better judgment and Herculean efforts, you collapse into sleep. I pick you up and carry you to your crib, and I relish the total lack of muscle tension in your body. You body melts into mine with no resistance whatsoever. You are as limp as a human being can be while still alive. No one, not even my husband, relaxes quite so much against my body. I savor it each time it happens, because I know that when you are eleven you will refuse to be seen in public with me and physical contact will be a no-go.
I have finally managed to trim your fingernails without drawing blood (either yours or mine.) For a while, I would put up with scratches all over my torso and your face because I broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about how I would accidentally nip off a chunk of your thumb…again. If later we discover that you can stick your thumb into boiling water without feeling a thing, it will be my fault. I can count the times that you woke up screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs to find me hovering over you with nail clippers and a look of abject failure on my face. I keep telling you that you can run away to Disneyland and Cinderella can be your mommy. In the meantime, you are welcome to use me as a whetstone until I perfect the manicure process.
You became interested in television this month. I was watching The Colbert Report with you in my lap and you were fascinated by Stephen Colbert. You smiled and gurgled through his show. I played a Baby Einstein DVD that someone had given me, and you lost interest immediately. I was fascinated by the hand puppets, tinkling music, and moving lights, but you would have none of it. It was Colbert or nothing.
You love the act of flipping over onto your stomach but you hate the feeling of actually remaining on your tummy. The books say that babies your age have a seven second memory. That explains a lot, since it takes you about nine seconds to flip over. No wonder you look at first surprised and then upset each time you flip over. You’re doing it for the first time each time.
I like the idea that you experience things fresh every time you do them. When you’re old like me everything will seem dull and repetitive. So for now, enjoy the wild rush of excitement every time you turn over, the sweet release of letting mommy carry you to bed, and the constant wonder and amusement at the ridiculousness of life around you.
I love you Bean,
Mama
Posted by Jen at August 23, 2006 11:36 AM