Who you callin' "baby"?!?

Reuven is six months old. Six months and change, actually. 

I have to remind myself of this daily ("He's only six months old!") because the truth is, this boy wants to grow up.

And by growing up, I mean, this boy wants to go.

Reuven is lightyears ahead in terms of most of my babies at this age. He is big physically (so my aching back reminds me every day). At 20 lbs., he has effectively doubled his 10 lbs., 3 oz. birthweight. He's also tall, and rock solid. He lost that "newborn feel" by about 8 weeks old and has been "baby" ever since then. Sadly, I feel him catapulting himself to "toddler" now that the first half of his first year is over.

Want to make him mad? Remove him from the fray. Reuven will gladly hang tough for just about any household chore or sibling interaction. But if the activity requires either Jo or me to slough off the ergo, well ... you get the point. 

One area where Reuven still feels "little-little" is in his sleeping habits. He is still not in any real hurry to develop a rhythm of sleep. He sleeps in the ginormous contraption that is our queen-sized bed hitched to his side-carred crib. He sleeps quite happily through the night, waking up once or maybe twice to dreamily nurse, caress my face, and then slip back into sound sleep. But naps are still random, short, and otherwise not worth planning a day around. I don't mind-- I'm up and running anyhow-- but I do ask myself: if he's this congenial with no real nap schedule, how much more pleasant would he be with adequate rest in the daytime?

Now back to that go. Reuven army crawls. Reuven gets on his hands and knees and rocks. Reuven can almost pull himself to standing on the side of our couch. Reuven is toying with the notion of bear walking. 

While he's happy to be worn, Reuven is usually on the floor at this point, exploring this, getting into that, finding his way to overcome whatever obstacles present themselves. I miss having a baby constantly on my hip. Sigh.

This is my six month-old, people. Where did my baby go?!?!?

Guess who's a daddy's boy? Guess who strains out of my arms the minute the dogs bark to signal that the work day is over and the man of the house is on the doorstep? Two in a row, people! Not fair!

But yes, I do get snuggle time. In the evening. As everyone else in the house is growing still, and the lights are dim, and it's just the three of us settling in. This moment-- the one pictured above-- this is what I think of when people tell me that they have no time or room or heart for another baby. I get that. I understand that people feel that way. But me? I just can't think of anything but how it feels to have a small head resting just under my chin, and the weight of a sleeping body on my chest. This is the good stuff. This is what it's all about.