Thirtysomething

9 Months

The little dude is nine months old today. His father is working tonight and I (and Little Dude) spent the night with the girls at El Vez.

Honestly, I didn't have that much to drink. Over the course of a couple of hours, maybe 3 margaritas, but they were mostly ice. They didn't cause me, or stop me from, crying like a baby when I got home.

It's not that he's nine months old. The age doesn't bother me. Hell, he'll already in some 12 month clothes and that doesn't bother me either.

I got the notice today that daycare is moving him out of the infant room in two weeks, to the "young toddler" room.

Young toddler room. This, for a child who cannot yet crawl.

I knew it was coming. It usually happens at 8 or 9 months; they tell you that. Although there was one baby still there at 10 months old. I would see all the younger babies, the 6 or 10 or 12 week ones come in, starting after Rolo. I would smile at them and remember when he was that little. He started at daycare at 12 weeks. I've realized he's one of the older kids in that room now. I can't explain why it upsets me. Maybe it's because I love his teachers in the infant room. Maybe it's because I don't like changes to routine. Maybe it's because he's too old to be in the infant room. Yeah, I think it's all of those, but that last one especially.

He's just a baby. My baby.

I'm well aware of the fact that I sound like one of those deranged lunatic mothers who refuse to let their children grow up. I won't be that, I promise. But I will allow myself moments of lunancy. Moments to grieve that which I did not think I would miss: the littleness of a baby. Of an infant. When a baby is only a couple of weeks or months old, there are no expectations. Just eating, and sleeping and pooping. Awe in just those things. But now, at nine months, I've already entered the world of competitive child rearing. I worry that he's not rolling over easily enough, that he's not crawling, that he doesn't say mama. There are expectations now; people start to ask you what your child can and cannot do. Don't get me wrong, I'm very proud of Rolo. He's doing just fine. But already, it's not the pure innocence of having a newborn.

He's gotten better at rollng over from his stomach to his back, but he still gets stuck. It's harder to hide the remote control from him because he knows were to look for it. He's started to push backwards when on his stomach, almost like a backwards creep. He's started to refuse food, as I've mentioned, but overall, he's still a very good baby.

He has this "ducktail" hairline at the nape of his neck. See?

And yes, he is watching the Weather Channel, which he finds fascinating. Is that hereditary?


Sometimes he falls asleep on me:


Sometimes on Daddy-O:


And he gives sloppy, open-mouthed kisses:




Lastly, here's his first and only time on a real swing (thanks to Deidre). He loved it.




Happy nine months, Little Dude.

Labels: baby, parenting, Rolo

posted by DJ Heavy D @ 6:53 PM