Warning: Mushy baby story ahead. Proceed (or not) by your own discretion.
As I mentioned a couple of days ago, there's a baby gate in our house. I don't know why this feels worth talking about considering there's an actual BABY in our house, so the gate is pretty small potatoes, relatively speaking. I guess it's just one of those iconic items for me. I spent so long feeling like stuff like that belonged in everyone else's world but mine. But what do you know? We brought one home last week and M screwed it into the studs at the top of the staircase into our basement. It is clear that a baby lives in our house. Crazy.
He has become so mobile so quickly over the past few days. He went from crawling to zooming around to pulling up to furniture-walking in a matter of days. He's also 8 months old today. The speed with which he is growing up is affecting me a bit, I think...
I was trying to put Elliot down for a nap this afternoon and he was putting up one heck of a fight. When he gets really tired, he gets super-cranky and he stiffens and thrashes and can't relax enough to sleep. He's really strong and it's hard not to get frustrated when he fights like that. I'll admit that it is usually with no small sense of relief that I settle him into his crib after one of those episodes. When he finally did pass out this time, he was nestled against me so perfectly that I couldn't bear to let go of him. I put the foot rest up, leaned the recliner back, and laid there with him sleeping on me for almost an hour. As I was holding him, I tried to soak up every last bit of the experience; to memorize the feel of him. I know that before I know it, he will be too big and too "cool" to snuggle with like that. I feel hyper-sensitive to how quickly these days will be gone and how little sensory memory I'll be able to take with me.