7 months -not a baby, not yet a toddler*

*B. Spears shout out
Okay, 7 months? Are you sure? Actually, I can answer this in the affirmative as I can very vividly recall your entrance into this world. This past month has been one Leif Ericson-like discovery after another for you. Based on your kinetic energy output over the last several weeks, those pre-pregnancy jeans are becoming a reality for your ever-mobile mama (anyone who is thinking, "You're not back in your pre-pregnancy jeans, yet?!" can go play in traffic).

Warning: items tend to get lost in dimples

There is not really a major development to report. You haven't said your first word, taken a step or declared your official political party affiliation. However, you seem to be working toward mastery with the developmental skills you have demonstrated over the last couple of weeks (army crawling, babbling, sitting, eating solids, mastering your fake cry). You sit like a pro, you army crawl at a steady 2 miles an hour (this is an estimate, as I think making you army crawl for an hour would land me in jail), and you 'gawl, gawl, gawl' and 'ba, ba, ba' and 'ma ma ma' with the best of them. Something that IS new is your love for all tight spaces. You get yourself wedged in a corner, under a chair, next to the couch and protest loudly until I rescue you.

We recently bought you a luxurious high chair equipped with all the high chair amenities that any baby would enjoy. Feeding you in the high chair is so much better than feeding you in your Bumbo seat. So far, we've tried green beans and peas (and cereal). You don't hate them, but when you take your first bite you get this look on your face that seems to say, "Why are you feeding me this gross gym sock?" Eating has opened up a whole new world of silly noises and rituals. After every bite of veggie delight, you make this "mmmmmm"sound. Also, you take your bib and stuff it in your mouth...after EVERY bite. By the end of your feeding, your bib is SOAKED.

It blows my mind how much more mobile you are than even two weeks ago; and you're Prefontaine quick. You crawl underneath your exersaucer, through your kick and crawl aquarium, over the river and through the woods. You love to move. You've started rocking back and forth on your hands and knees, so I'm thinking you'll be full-on crawling any day now.

I made the decision to stay home with you instead of going back to work, so we spend lots of time together. I've never been more confident about any other decision I've made in my life. It was hard not going back to the classroom, but I'm thrilled to be home with you. You change daily, and I love that I have the opportunity to witness every moment. I just hope that I can make the time we spend together quality. It's my most sincere hope that I don't get stuck in a rut wherein we simply do the same thing everyday. I mean, I'm not really sure how educational Full House reruns are (although, I did learn what a mnemonic device was by watching the show). I want to provide you with fun, educational, varied experiences.

I love how much time we get to spend together, but I'm afraid I've made it difficult any time I leave. You seem to be going through slight separation anxiety. It's not horrible, but if you see me leave, you start to whine. Okay, there is a part of me that loves that I have this little person who relies on me so much. There's also this pragmatic part of me that hopes this is only a phase, and you will be able to grow into an independent person.

Another guilty pleasure--I love the fact that you are a cuddler. At night, you and I will lay on the couch together and you just fall asleep next to me. Okay, calm down all you Ferber fans. Maybe I should just put you in your crib (and some nights I do), but I know there will soon be a time when you won't want to snuggle with me (also, it will be inappropriate). Am I setting a bad precedent? Probably. But I guess in the grand scheme of bad parenting decisions, I'm okay (please direct your concerns with my parenting decisions to your mom).

Our friend Sara, the genius photographer who took this amazing picture of you, wrote recently on her blog that having a child has helped her gain some insight into God's love for us. She put into words what I think every time I look at you sleeping in your crib or smiling or playing with your toys. This immense feeling of love is so overpowering; it brings me to tears. If I love you this much, I cannot even fathom the depths of the Father's love for us. I want to protect you from everything--every fall, every sickness, every hurt. But I know that this isn't practical or healthy for your development. I have to let you stumble in order for you to grow. As you grow in Christ, I hope you realize this. Sometimes we fall, but He is there to help us grow from our stumbles.

I love you so much, monkey pants! Happy 7 months!