MollyMadonna.com

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light up my life.

You do, little darlin’. Yes you do.

I can’t get enough of your contagious giggle or the way you wave your arms and legs in excitement when you’re on your belly–as if flailing them around enthusiastically will get you where you’re going:) You’re a little ball of energy, even past 9pm. A night owl (like your mama and daddy) to be sure.

At seven months (+ 5 days) old, you’re the life of the party. Just ask our relatives. You make the whole room happy. Your first Thanksgiving was one celebratory (and traveling) meet and greet after the next, and despite not feeling too well all weekend, you were still bubbly and personable everywhere we went. And while you grew all snuggly and sad at bedtime, you still tugged at my heart through the night as you curled up on my chest to sleep–sound and sweaty and precious, giving me purpose in the most perfect way. If I haven’t mentioned it before, I love being your mommy.

I’m sorry I’ve not written more to you these days…they are flying by so fast, and you’re changing so much! I tell myself I’ll just take all of these moments to soak everything in, and then they’re gone in an instant. I hope someday I can remember enough to tell you all about how amazing you were at this age. You are. And I’ll try to do better at documenting all of the important things, ok? Like how you’ve added apples and bananas, pears and carrots, sweet potatoes and pickles(!) to your repertoire (not to mention banana-flavored puffs in your highchair that you pick up and eat all on your own). You are such a growing boy!

You’re rolling around the room like a pro as of late. I walked away for thirty seconds this afternoon and you had an entire pile of diapers and diaper bag items strewn about in no time. There’s a lot of baby-proofing conversation around the house these days, and it’s all in prep for your little, wiggling, moving, curious self. We’re excited for you to crawl, but to be honest, I’m enjoying you as a self-sitting, semi-stationary babe while I still can. You are going to keep me on my toes in times ahead, no doubt.

Tonight, we took you to your first light parade downtown. We watched from the second story windows of dad’s office as thousands of Christmas lights passed by–you, marveling especially at the big trucks and all of the twinkling going on down below. Your awe at every turn reminds me just how magical the simplest things can be…like my favorite moment of the day:

…and you, in your seven month old wisdom, fully embracing the scene, engrossed in what’s beautiful around you.

The world is magnificent from your vantage point, and I get to be along for the ride. Light doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface, Henry dear.

a little blurry, but that face! oh, the joy you bring!

love you to the bright, bright moon and back.

mom

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toothless grin.

You never cease to inspire me, HD–you, with that beaming, wide, toothless (and contagious) grin. Over the past few weeks, your sense of humor has blossomed. Add the right intonation or pitch to any random word and away you go, squealing and giggling away. I love how you always pick your chin up when you laugh; how you arch your back off the floor and kick your legs in excitement, assuring me of your approval. Your toys are funny. Rubber blocks are funny. The number “fourteen!” is funny. You continue to light up our lives.

As of late, you have quite the opinion, my dear. Your delight or disapproval is clear as day. You love bath time, story time, jumping in the jumparoo. The baby in the hallway mirror is fascinating. The baby lotion bottle? Even better. You are decidedly not a fan of putting a shirt over your head, waiting an extra few minutes to eat, or hearing the bark of a small dog. Your winter coat? No thank you, mom. The evidence before me would suggest you are exactly your age. Indeed.

In recent days, you’ve hiked dunes (with a little help), proven a perfect backseat travel companion, conquered rice cereal and oatmeal, attempted to crawl (but it’s still kind of a scoot in circles on your tummy), grown even more enamored with our big black pup, and learned to sit up like a pro. Mommy would be so tempted to start growing another little person like you, because you are such an absolute joy…but really, I selfishly want to soak up some more Hank time one-on-one before anybody else comes along. I just love everything about you.

I’ve never made friends with as many strangers as I do now with you in tow. I love how you strike up a conversation, igniting connection and community around us without even saying a word. It’s the most beautiful thing. You make this world a better place for being in it. You do. And I don’t just say that because I’m your mom.

smile away, my babe. smile away!

mm

p.s. Fourteen!

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half a year with you.

Henry David,

On Monday night (Tuesday morning) at 1am while rocking you to sleep, I thought back exactly six months to those beautiful, monumental hours as you made your way into the world. Six months ago. That day feels like yesterday, only you’re twice as big. And I have to try really hard to remember a day without your sweet face, so I guess that means it’s really been that long.

I am amazed.

I could say this daily and it would still be true. Amazed, amazed, amazed. You, who are so dynamic and so expressive and so aware, are my miniature companion. My very own little bug. You are a delight at every turn. And we have been soooooo lucky. Like, how-do-I even-begin-to-count-my-stars-and-how-did-God-know??? kind of lucky. But you aren’t luck, and of course God knew. He knew the ins and outs of days, he knew what my heart would need in so many moments, he knew that I would melt a thousand times a minute at the sight of you who He always planned would be ours. 

Ours. As in, we get to keep you for as long as God will allow. Wow, does that make us blessed!

Henry David, you are the answer to a million prayers.

And now that you’re growing into your own opinions and tastes, likes and dislikes, there are whole new parts of you to learn every day. You’re exploring the world a bit more on your own terms, and I’m just trying to celebrate all of the little things as they come. You are inquisitive, calculating. You look everything over and take it all in. Your laugh is the best sound I have ever set ears on. Your smile is contagious. You make friends with strangers everywhere we go (we’ll talk about that soon enough:). No one can decide who you look like, because you’re such a good blend.

Our favorite time of day is when you wake up and peek over the side of your crib, ready to meet all that awaits you. And on the flip side, bath time, family story time and pajama time before bed are equally as sublime. You soak in every story book as though it were written just to captivate you. At times I could be convinced it’s true…

Still the cuddle bug you’ve always been, we could curl up for hours when you’re sleepy, and I’m taking it all in while I can. I know you’ll be crawling and walking and running around in a blink–you’re already a squirmy worm when you’re ready to play. I hope I’ll be able to keep up with you, Henry David, but nothing would thrill me more than you watch you create your own pace, have your own dreams, go after your own adventures. I trust you will.

We pray for you daily, sweet boy. We pray that you will know God’s love, and that you will hunger for it. That you will seek truth and do what is right. That you will be healthy and protected and blessed. And we pray for an abundance of joy. Oh, do we want you to be joyful!

There is nothing in this world you can’t do, Hank. And with God’s help, whatever it is you set out to do, begin it. You are determined. Resilient. Loved beyond measure. The next six months stretch out ahead of us, and in them, you will grow and flourish and continue to humble us, no doubt. Beyond your first birthday, the world will be your oyster; you, our pearl. It is the greatest privilege in the world to be your parents. I trust someday you’ll know…

happy half birthday (on the 25th;), hank the tank. love you forever,

mommy

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perplexed.

We’ve had diaper issues here in the little blue house for over a month now. The doctor has run tests, I’ve given up on cloth temporarily (I hope) for the sake of my sanity and we’re mastering the art of minimizing fallout every time the unmentionable happens.

Which it almost always does as soon as I pack up the little man and leave the house. In the car. In the car seat. On the car seat through layers of clothing. Whenever I’m going to be on time to go anywhere. 

Or in today’s case, in the biography section of the library this afternoon. Man, did he make a face. And then I made a face. And rushed through the rest of the stacks, grabbing a handful of kid’s CDs and a few books before scurrying home to manage damage control. Of course, he fell asleep about a minute before we hit the driveway.

Soooo hungry, and bit perplexed by the consistently inopportune timing of said event, I’ve left our little bug asleep in his car seat, made a quick sandwich and sat down to hash it all out for a moment. I’m on the fence about waking him–seems foolish when the damage is already done.

All that’s left is to question whether this makes me a bad mom for a few minutes–leaving him in the car seat when I know he needs to be changed (and probably bathed and disinfected). And. And. And. But waking him doesn’t feel like the right thing to do either. Especially since he’s not really proving to be much of a napper, and eating lunch with two hands is sooooo much easier.

Oh, the dilemma.

Would it be so much to ask for this little season of diaper drama to change? I think I’m ready now.

possibly investing in rubber gloves…and a diaper genie,

mm

P.S. HD, I know you’ll probably read this someday. Please chalk it up as one of the many times I’ll likely embarrass you. I don’t mean to do it. Honest. But I might be shirking in my duties as your mother if it never happened. If you can’t now, I think you’ll find a way to forgive me when you have a wee one of your own. And I’ll make it up to you in the next post, I promise. Love you. Mom

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further on down the road.

Faced with two daunting (for me) options last week, I chose the path more traveled. I could either stay home with the little man while Jason was on business for five days, or pack up the baby gear and head to Chicago for some time with the grandparents–hardly a decision when I conceived of possible sleepless nights and a lack of adult interaction for nearly a week (no thank you!). So I juggled baby items and bags and countless diapers and wipes on Monday morning while Hank napped, then settled him into his car seat for the three+ hour trek, said multiple prayers and hit the road. If you know me, you know I loathe driving (especially long distances), and the idea of taking a trip with our four month old didn’t get me overly excited. Still, I wanted to know I was up to the challenge.

Aside from being the only set of hands available when I stopped for a bathroom break mid-drive, the trip was relatively uneventful. Henry dutifully obliged as I traipsed through Walgreens to find a non-gas station, non-McDonald’s lavatory option, then was changed, fed and back in his seat without a fuss not thirty minutes later. He slept like a champion, only causing me mild grief all schlumped over in the car seat for a majority of the long ride. Today he seems no worse for the wear.

We first made our way to the northern suburbs, arriving early afternoon at grandparent destination numero uno. With enough time to unpack necessities and eat before Grandpa Ed got home from work, we were feeling pretty good. From here, I knew there’d be no shortage of hands to help with the little guy in most cases. Car rides to and fro were mine to handle, but the stops in between? Grandparent city!

From Grandpa and Grandma H’s on Monday evening and Tuesday a.m., we visited Great Grandma Donna and then stayed the night at Grandma Teresa’s. After that? Grandma Susan’s house was our home away from home for the next two nights, with a second visit to see Grandma T and some time with Grandpa Richard, too. Hank was as agreeable as always, doling out smiles and laughs at the ready and enjoying all of the extra love only grandparents can give. With every set up and tear down of the Pack n’ Play, I gained confidence in my mommy abilities on the road. With every nap and overnight in a new place, Henry gained heaps of bonus points with his mama for being as sweet and adjustable as I could hope. I tried to maintain as much of his routine as possible, and in return, H tried his level best to be flexible for sure. Although only one night was blessed with solid sleep, I didn’t mind bringing the little bug into bed for extra cuddling; he is the best sleeper in the world when we’re cozied up together.

To say that our days out of town were relaxing and low key might be a bit of an understatement, but they were certainly enjoyable–watching grandmas and grandpas take delight in our little guy is definitely one of the sweet rewards of parenting!

The more days I have with Henry, the harder I fall for everything that he is and is becoming. He had my heart long before he was born, but goodness does he have it now! I’m constantly in awe of how attached I’ve grown to our time together, learning the intricacies of H’s personality, feelings, needs and interests while I discover myself as a mother more and more every day.

Before Henry and I headed “home” to Chicago last week, we spent a great night out at the beach as a family. I’m so thankful for our time together, capturing sweet moments like the ones below that (I think) say so much about who we are as a trio. I’m filled up with love every time I look at them:

better for the journey,

mm