Dear Lulah {month 6}

Lulah Grey,

6 months little one.

You have seamlessly filled our lives for 6 months now.

You're like a liquid that has spilled out onto the floor.  Unrestrained, flowing into every nook and cranny and crack.  Taking on whatever shape to fill up the space.

You just keep filling us up, spreading your joy and peace {and milk and drool}all over us.

To discuss the 'technical stuff', you are 20ish pounds, not sure how long, but pretty much wearing 12 month clothing.  I saw you roll over for the first time last week and you seemed very pleased with yourself.  Almost overnight, you're sitting quite well on your own.  You've learned to use your mammoth legs as a pretty secure base.  Still no teeth, but you are working hard.  Which requires some extra holding...but I don't mind.

Oh, Lulah.  My little second baby gift.  In the last 6 months, I haven't really kept track of a lot of 'milestones'.  I have no idea what percentile you're in, I just know you're a snugly sack of potatoes.  I'm not sure what you're 'supposed' to be capable of doing.  But I know you like to man handle any object that is in your reach.  I know that we can make you laugh with just goofy faces, no tickling required.  But the tickling, oh man!  It will probably be your Achilles heel.  If someone asked how often you nurse, I would not have an immediate answer.  But I know you get enough.  If someone asked how much you're sleeping, I would have to sit down and do some calculations.  I just know that most days I feel great and rested.  And I know that when you wake up and you see a face {me, your dad, lucy} you beam and grin and squeal.  I know that you don't need a lot of help to fall asleep, but that I still like to hold you for several minutes before I lay you down.  Laying your head on my shoulder, you find your thumb and start growling and humming at the sheer deliciousness.  Your other hand finds it's way around my neck and either squeezes like a sweet baby hug or finds my hair and starts stroking and twisting the strands.  I say a little prayer over you and then lay you down in a cradle that is starting to run out of room.  Whether bedtime or nap time {still getting used to having a napper!}, this is how you drift off to sleep.

I'm not looking ahead to what you'll be accomplishing next, I'm just celebrating where you are now.

Yes.  The tried and true of living the here and now.  And it is a fantastic place.

You were born in Spring.  With mornings still filled with chill, you stayed nuzzled against me around the clock.  Skin on skin, keeping you warm.  Getting to know each other, by sight, by sound, by smell.  New life.

You grew into Summer.  Hot and sticky with sweat and milk.  Content to be still and held.  A wardrobe of diaper and bib.  Early morning walks, afternoon dips in a hose filled plastic pool and evening swings beneath the fan of the covered porch.  Your world widened with the length of the days and our whole world slowed, not only to stay cool but to take you all in.

And here we are.  At the front door of Fall.  My favorite season.  A season full of new patterns for crocheted sweaters and hats.  A season of harvest and when you'll get a taste of the bounty.  A season of hiking and wandering and when you'll discover the freedom of independent movement, relying less of me for exploration of your world.  Leaf crawling, pine cone tasting, and accidental stick poking await you my dear.  You will love it.

Love,
Mama