Eight Month Maya Papaya

Technically, I’m a day early.  Maya turns eight months old tomorrow, but I have a spot of time right now to spill the beans about what’s new with the little lady.  So, Miss Maya, here’s what you’re up as you enter your eighth glorious month on this planet:

You are one active chick-a-dee, kiddo.  I am constantly running after you.  You would think I’d drop some weight from chasing you, but since I eat chocolate instead of pulling out my hair, I keep the junk in my trunk (thus saving my now wavy locks).  I have no idea from where your energy source originates, but I want some of your power.  Your knees are always scraped and have a carpet/tile burn appearance that no lotion or ointment can help right now.  This past week you’ve started pulling yourself up onto everything, including me.  I am no longer Michelle or mommy- I am the living jungle-gym/climbing station/swing/bouncer/roller-coaster.  You are the monkey and I am the banyan tree.  You do dig coffee tables, end tables, and sofas, too, and you started pushing around my ottoman like it’s a walker.  Today, however, you became so excited when you saw Ronin that you let go of the big ottoman and took two steps to greet him before you crashed.  Boom!  Head connected with tile.  Poor babe.  I’m sorry to say that you inherited your dad’s huge noggin’ and will more than likely smack it on plenty of objects as you explore your world. 

You also said your first word last Friday night.  Not your usual dadababanaaaanaaadat-t-t-t babble, but an actual word:  Hi.  After carefully watching a woman and her boy for a while at the pool and determining they were a friendly species, you decided to smile, wave, and say hi.  Plain as day.  You also greeted a tree and your owl picture.  First word:  Hi.  Not mama (as it should be and as I encourage you to say), but hi.  Cracks me up.

My dear, darling stinker, you bring joy to so many people who love you, adore you, and love to see you every day.  I cannot even imagine not having you in my life, not getting hugs and kisses from you every day, and not having you crawl up and put your head on my shoulder as you drift off to dream.  I bet Joshie misses you like crazy right now. 

You and your big brother have made me a better person and for that, I thank you.  I just have one request:  stop waking up in the middle of the night!  I need my beauty sleep, for pete’s sake.  I’m no spring chicken, pumpkin.  Mommy needs some shut-eye.

Mommy also needs to work on her screenplay since you wouldn’t let her AT ALL yesterday, so off I go to squeeze in whatever time I can right now.  I’m a day behind schedule.  Suck!

I love you, Maya Papaya!

Seven months

Time has been flying by.  My munchkin, who is currently kicking on my lap and attempting to add extra consonants and vowels to my words, is now seven months old.  Seven!  She stares out the window at the fuchsia and white bundles on the spiraea shrubs and blows raspberries, spraying baby spittle all over my shiny screen.  This gas-expelling ball of energy is happy as can be, too.  Usually.  When she isn’t, for whatever reason, her temper turns on like an unexpected spring storm and dissipates just as quickly.  All I have to do is humiliate myself by singing and making silly faces.  Again, usually.  

Miss Maya has been entertaining herself for up to fifteen whopping minute at a time, which gives me slightly more time to tap out words on the keyboard.  Glory be!  Only now she’s crawling all over the place, so I can’t let my attention stray far from her during her waking hours.  Random chunks of time aren’t exactly ideal for writing, but I take it when I can get it.  Like when she drifts off to dream.

These past two months have been laden with unexpected confessions- disappointing revelations that fracture your soul.  I honestly don’t know how…  oh, nevermind.  I could go on forever about it and never understand any of it.  

I just want to move on past it now and enjoy these two lovely creatures in my life.