Hellobee

Baby Y turned 9 months old the other day. Crazy town, I tell you.

In the past four weeks, I’ve started to see less and less “baby” and more and more “kid” in my son. Bittersweet for sure, but also really fun. I’m going to unabashedly pronounce it our best month yet.

This month’s big stuff:

Crawling (for real). When he turned eight months, Baby Y could awkwardly lurch forward, and I eagerly pronounced it “crawling.” Well, he’s really crawling now. He can follow me from room to room, and whenever he does, he gives me the most ridiculous grin, like, “HA HA! I’m still here, woman!” He came to visit me in the bathroom yesterday and was so smug about it when I gave him the stink eye.

First time in a swing … not sure whether we are trying to kill him.

Pulling up. Baby Y is starting to pull himself to standing whenever he can. I am his favorite source of leverage; he can also do it using his Fisher Price activity table, though I am always ready with a steadying hand. He hasn’t pulled up in his crib yet that I know of, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

Food. The kiddo still loves his purees, but I’ve been trying to slowly introduce a few more foods that are self-feed friendly: chunks of banana, pieces of cheese, little squares of toast, Cheerios. He especially enjoyed the toast. He adores puffs and Mum-Mums, too, which are especially handy on the go. Aside from three solid meals, he nurses about four times a day and twice at night (sigh), and is now ruthlessly efficient – he eats greedily for a few minutes and then he rolls away, ready for a new adventure.

Separation anxiety. Apparently, Baby Y is at a prime age for this to rear its ugly head, and he obliged in the past few weeks. I used to be able to leave him in his Jumperoo or Around-We-Go for a few minutes if I needed to do a quick chore in the next room; lately, though, I can’t leave for 30 seconds without screaming and tears. He was cool with his grandparents on a recent visit if I wasn’t around, but as soon as he saw me, he would freak out and lunge for me. (I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it a little bit sweet.)

Sleep. His two naps are still pretty solid, and he goes down easily just about every night, even with the time change. Unfortunately, he’s also back to two-a-night wake-ups. I nurse him each time; attempts to soothe him that do not involve boobs are met with extreme displeasure.

Teeth. He has at least seven now: four on top and three on bottom. He still loves to chew on socks and often crawls around with one hanging from his mouth, looking like a little puppy. Weirdo.

On another note, several people have said that Baby Y is starting to look a lot more like me. Considering I was asked if he was adopted just a couple short months ago, this is quite the turnaround. Papa Y is rather pouty about it, but I really do see plenty of both of us in our son.

Onward … and one month closer to toddlerhood! (Yikes.)

This is … fun? Yeah, kinda fun. Weeeeeeeee!