India: month seven

Dear India,

Today you are seven months old. You are joy.

Except when you're exhausted, or awake in the middle of the night and not being tended to. In those circumstances, you are all about the ragey rage. Until someone walks in, and then you immediately begin to beam.

I feel like I'm a better baby mother this time around. Not that baby wearing is the be-all, but I couldn't manage wearing Jordan - he and I just never got the hang of it. And I'm more comfortable and happier just being in the moment with you than I was with him. I wasn't a bad mother to him when he was tiny...but I know I could have been a lot better.

I tried my best, and I still do. 

I took you to vote on election day, and they didn't have my name on the rolls. So you and I very slowly snaked our way through a 2 1/2 hour special ballot line. You were amazing - much better natured than your mother. Happy, smiley, sleepy, asleep.

We didn't actually need to stay, as DC goes Democrat, but I've been so judgey the last couple elections, I felt like I absolutely had to vote.

We started you on rice and oat cereal somewhere around five months, and by now you are itching to try everything.

Yesterday we introduced you to a dill pickle at Potbelly. You kept lunging for it, and it's not on the NO WAY list, and you're our second child, and so...

You very much enjoyed it.

So far you are big on cereals, pears, blueberries, sweet potatoes, and bananas. You're in the George Bush camp on broccoli, but I think it's because the texture freaked you out.

Now you are sitting up so well on your own. I mean, you don't sit yourself up, but you stay up. You are still a rolling fiend, and oh, you want to stand. And crawl. You are thisclose to figuring it out, I fear, and I'm not encouraging it.

It's not that I want to hamper you, but all hell is going to break loose when you are totally mobile.You adore your brother, and I know that as soon as you can follow him around, you will. Jordan, for his part, quite likes that he can make you laugh. I'm hoping you enjoy each other more and more as you age.

But the thing is, he has to take every damn thing apart, which means there are 87 billion itty bitty car tires and sundry toy pieces that would be just perfect for choking. Not sure what we are going to do about this.

Anyway, my delightful girl, you are seven months old, and you are joy.

Love love love,

Mama