Month 7

Everywhere I take you, Josephine, people stop me to tell me how beautiful my baby is. They comment on how much hair you have, pull on your tiny toes and then ask me how old you are. Do you know what I have to say now? I have to say 7 MONTHS. BAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I would have written this earlier but I've been having too much fun playing with you lately, and I hesitate to write this but, Finally. Not that you aren't always a totally fun baby, but this past month has been a little rough for your mother's nerves. The separation anxiety paired with increased mobility left me with about 15 sec to myself everyday. 15 seconds is not enough time to go to the bathroom by myself, FYI.
This month you and I went on an airplane, four airplanes actually, and we survived. My best friend Kelly, her fiance, and their daughter Paris finally got to meet you. I haven't seen them since you were in my belly and Paris was soooo confused about why I ate a baby. How else could there be a baby in my belly?
You and Paris were BFFs almost immediately. There were so many moments that the two of you were quieltly playing and unaware that I was watching from the kitchen and I just died from the picture-perfectness of it all. The sappy fantasy that two young girlfriends have that one day they will have babies that will be best friends...for a week that fantasy came true. Those moments made all the crying on the plane and pooping in the airport totally worth it.
When we got home you waited a few days before you had your first real fever. I'm pretty proud of myself with how I reacted to you being a sicky baby. I wasn't the nerotic first time parent, I was the cool and composed rational parent that shushed the crazy family that asked if I was taking you in to the doctor's. You were fine, you are fine, but that's it honey, you aren't allowed to get sick again this decade.
You know what? I don't know if I have much else to say about this month. The more I gush about how cute and smart and fun you are, the more I sound like every mom with every baby. And I'm not every mom, and you aren't every baby, and I don't want to sound like we are. At least not in these letters to you. So this is all I can put out there this month, Josephine. I love you so much.