Five Months

I would be perfectly content if Colin would stay five months old forever. He is so ridiculously cheerful, so completely adorable, so perfectly willing to laugh and babble and pass his rattle from hand to hand (milestone: check!). It is almost too much. Though it kills me that I only see him for a few hours a day, since he goes to bed so early, I am so glad that I can appreciate how perfectly perfect he is. If I spent all day with him, I doubt I would notice, as I would be (was) so entrenched in the diapers and bottles and never ending neediness that all babies are. As it is, I race home every night to maximize the time I get with him and he is never lacking in personality, love, or laughter.

The fact that I started work hasn’t affected Colin too much, since he was already going to daycare and loving it. If anything, he gets even more attention and snuggles because I come home from my soul-crushing research job and am desperate for some life. Being with him in the evening, between 5, when we pick him up, and 7, when he is fast asleep, is the absolute highlight of my day, the part of the day that makes it worth getting up in the morning (at which time he is also almost unbearably adorable). The rest of the day is just the time before or after he sleeps.



This month, Colin tasted his first non-milk/formula product and hated it. He continues to hate it, though he has learned to tolerate it for longer periods. I don’t want to torture the poor little guy, but I bought the big box of rice cereal. He also, against my vehemently expressed wishes, had his SECOND taste of non-milk/formula product: the vinegar-based brine, flavored by the olives, cauliflower, and broccoli sitting in it, that Patrick dipped his finger in and stuck in Colin’s mouth. I thought the kid’s head was going to explode, he loved it so much. He threw himself forward, arms outstretched and hands reaching, in a desperate attempt to seize the bowl and dump whatever that stuff was all over himself. He screeched (which we’ve decided means he’s happy and wants more of whatever you were just doing) and kicked and his eyes got so big you could see white all around. I took all of this to mean that he was having an anaphylactic reaction to the vinegar and started screaming at Patrick for being an idiot. But Patrick told me to actually LOOK at our child instead of projecting my fear onto him. This seemed to me a novel approach, so I did, and saw that Colin was ready to fling himself out of my arms and risk a long fall to the floor just for a chance to taste that brine-y goodness again. I sighed, and allowed Patrick to give him two more tastes off his finger. I have never seen such pure joy as that kid’s face.

Since then, we have had more success with the rice cereal, working up to finishing an entire tablespoon just yesterday. I think that he’s going to be a teacher’s pet; he wants so much to be praised, so he opens his mouth and cringes, waiting for the spoon with the cereal, then takes the food and pushes it around in his mouth, never opening his eyes. Then I cry, “You’re so good! Look how well you ate that! What a good baby!” (etc.) and his eyes fling open and he grins with pride. When he sees the spoon coming again, he braces himself and closes his eyes again. Poor thing. Cereal is such torture.

This month has been the biggest month for motor development in Colin’s short life. He learned to roll over, both ways. In fact, rolling from back to front is still quite novel, so he still is extraordinarily pleased with himself whenever he accomplishes this momentous feat. He also has figured out that the quickest way to get food in his mouth is to grab the bottle and do it himself. Like so:



Patrick and I have shown him where we keep the formula and bottles, since he can do it all himself now, and are out for a nice dinner date. He should be fine by himself. Also new in the motor skills department is this:



He sits up! I mean, he sorta props himself up if he holds on to something and is spotted constantly by an adult. But still! The progress!

We haven’t traveled this month nearly as much as we have in the other months of Colin’s life, so this is the longest stretch he’s gone without seeing any family outside of his parents. I hate this. (Warning: cliché ahead.) He is growing up so fast. Did you know that he is 16 pounds? 16 pounds! No wonder my arms look thirteen times more buff than the rest of me. He has changed so much and it makes me so sad that his family is missing it. I feel lucky that we have been able to go visit so often, but it isn’t possible to keep up that crazy schedule. We all do the best we are able to stay in touch, but telling stories on the phone is not the same as holding him or playing with him or kissing him or snuggling with him. In short, I want him to be treasured, every milestone celebrated and every day cherished. In person. This simple but incredibly intense feeling has played a huge part in my feelings about Patrick’s job search and match. For the first time in my adult life, it is killing me to be away from my family. Too much happens, both with Colin and with them, and catching up over the phone just doesn’t replace being a part of daily life anymore. I’ve been away for almost eleven years. We’ll find out in a few weeks if that is long enough.