Tuesday, May 02, 2006
At seven months you are "hell on wheels." You've learned to crawl at high speeds and have started pulling yourself up onto your feet. There's nothing that gets in your way and your brothers are learning there's no safe territory when you are around. Even now you sit in your exersaucer, trapped, shouting in protest because you can't get to Denver's lego creation that you were having so much fun destroying. Your favorite destination seems to be the basket of magazines under the entertainment center, where you have chewed through several issues of The Friend and Family Fun Magazine. You still shove everything you get your little fists on straight into your mouth and I'm constantly racing you to the next tiny "chokable" the kids have left on the floor for you to find. And you are oh so good at finding them.
You remind me very much of the Tazmanian Devil, destroying anything and everything that gets in your path. But sometimes you get tired and I can often find you sitting quietly with a chew toy in your hand, watching your brothers play around you or even snuggled up on the floor, sucking your thumb, with your silkie wrapped around you. You are such a happy and content baby and are excellent at calming and soothing yourself. I consider myself very blessed. You wake up every morning around 6:00 or 6:30 am but you never cry. You play happily with your crib toys until you fall back to sleep for another hour or so. And even then you rarely cry or complain--you just wait patiently for someone to come and get you. Sometimes I wonder if you'd ever cry and scream for attention--you seem almost resigned to a life of waiting for your turn. I wonder if you know you're entitled to a tantrum now and then. And if you did insist on some much deserved mommy-time, I wonder if you know I'd always come running, anxious to hold and cuddle you in my arms.
I wonder also, if you know how much you are loved. I worry often, having so many children, if you will all get the time and attention that you need to be happy and satisfied in life. At the end of the day I often feel frazzled after trying to listen to everyone's stories and kiss everyone's boo-boos and meet everyone's needs. And yet, as soon as my head hits the pillow at night, I almost always think of someone that got slighted or someone that asked for something and never received it, and I always feel like the world's biggest failure. I never want any of you to want for love and attention. But in the morning when everyone is in bed with us and we're all cuddled into a huge tangle of legs and arms and heads I feel a sense of relief--yes, everyone is loved and everyone knows it. Your brothers fight to lay by you in the morning and have had several fist fights over who can talk to you and who can play with you. They all want to make you laugh and there's not a single member of this family that wouldn't bend over backwards to see you smile. You are so totally loved.
You've cut your first teeth and enjoy all sorts of fruits and vegetables. You also love Biter Biscuits and Birgid Park's gingerbread men and do you ever make a mess with them. We tried giving you spaghettios last night and I've never seen you look so insulted in your life. I suppose it's an acqired taste. You've also learned to clap, sort of, and it has become one of your most favorite things to do when you are with us. The other day I was reading "The Train to Timbuctoo" to your brothers, with you planted firmly on my lap. Part of the book reads "clickity-clack, clickity-clack." As I read that part, I looked down and noticed that you had started clapping. I guess you thought I was saying "clappity-clap, clappity-clap" and I was so excited to see the wheels in your head turning and the connections you were making between what I was saying and an action you had just learned. You are growing so quickly.
You also love your Daddy like none other and when he's around there's no distracting you. There's no food, no toy, no game, no silkie that pulls your attention from your Daddy. You love sitting on his knee while he sings the William Tell Overature and bounce happily up and down like you're riding a horse. When he's around you want to be with him and no one can soothe you quite as well as your Daddy can. It's been like that from the very beginning (yes, you loved him more than me, even from day one) and the strength of your bond only grows more each day your together. But I can't think of a better person to fall in love with or always want to be with than your very own father and it just goes to show how smart you really are.
One night recently, you had a very rough time teething and neither of us got very much sleep. The following morning, I jokingly said to Denver, "Caleb is a very bad baby. Let's sell him at the store and I'll let you buy any toy you want with the money we get from him." Denver, in a bit of a panick, insisted that you are not a bad baby but a good baby and no, he didn't want a toy, he wanted to keep you. Ever since then, he is constantly reminding me that you are a good baby and prays at least twice a week that you will always be a good baby and that we will get to keep you forever. I think we all feel that way about you Caleb, but the thing Denver doesn't realize is that, good or bad, you are ours for keeps. And I can't remember how we ever lived without you before but I'm sure glad we don't have to anymore and I hope you'll stick around for a very, very long time.
posted by Shana # 10:38 AM 
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