Six Months

While I've been busy trying to stop the hands of time, Ladybug has been forging ahead, ignoring my pleas, and getting bigger by the day.

She hit the half year mark last week. Gahhh... I can't take it.

The past month gave us the most notable changes to date for my little Girlfriend, who tipped the scales at just shy of 20 lbs at her half year doctor's visit.

She took all 27 shots (not really 27, more like 5) like a champ.

She started eating solids just before the 6 month mark, and has already shoved sweet potatoes, bananas, apples, broccoli, blueberries, peaches, and oatmeal down her little throat.

She is literally like a puppy; if someone enters the room with food, she will stare and whimper until she gets some too.

She loves, loves, loves water out of a sippy cup...this is worth mentioning only because Lovebug absolutely hated water when we gave it to him... like we handed him tequila or something (we didn't).

Rolling over and sitting up on her own (kind of) are the new things to do for Ladybug... who is still smiling, laughing, and observing her little life away.

She is still calm, and happy to sit back and let Lovebug be his maniac little self (as if he would let her stop him).

She will crane her neck or bend over like a question mark to get a good look at his antics (which is a little scary if you are holding her and she suddenly flips her body backwards to watch her brother).

She also finally started paying attention to her Dear Old Dad this month... took her long enough.

It's weird because most people would think this is something that happens immediately, and I am sure she has loved her Dad all along, but for an exclusively breastfed baby, well, Daddy doesn't have the goods;

So up until this month, he has been on the back burner.

Not anymore my friends... not anymore.

They do this thing- Husband and daughter...

I will be nursing her, and Husband starts to sing a Beatles song and she will stop nursing and turn at look at him.

He will stop singing, and she will begin to nurse again... until Husband opens his mouth and starts to sing again.

She unlatches, flips around, looks at Daddy, who stops singing until she latches again... and so on and so forth.

Husband adores this game; and thinks it is hysterical that she has inherited his, "Cant do two things at once," gene.

I'm sure he also loves that  A) my boob is just hanging out while they do their little sing-song game, and B) there is one thing on Earth that she will give up the boob for... and it's his singing.

She is finally, finally sleeping through the night (excuse me while I booty pop all over the house).

Here's the thing though, for all you, "raising children by the book,"-ers out there.

Since she learned how to roll over, she rolled herself over and slept the whole night through on her belly... (for you non-parents out there, that is a big no no in the Baby world these days).

I saw her on the monitor and went to flip her over.

I crept quietly towards her crib, when she suddenly popped her little head up like a duck.

That's when I threw myself on the ground.

Apparently she is fine on her belly...  and I may have a few issues (this is news to nobody)...

Normal people hit the deck to avoid being seen by a 6 month old at 3 am... right?

Post hitting the deck, as I was crawling back to bed, I ran into Dollface's other bestie, our cat Madison (named for the middle school where Husband and I met) who likes to hang out in her bakery nursery.

Madison doesn't get  much air time on the ol' blog here because let's be serious, not many people want to read about a cat, and usually there is not much to say (eat, sleep, pet me, pet me, sleep).

But Ladybug is smitten with Madison, and eagerly watches her every majestic, tiger-like movement (read: lazily walk into the room, "pet me, pet me," walk out) and tries to "pet," (smack) her whenever she is within reach.

In fact, the cat is the single only thing that is safe from being shoved down Ladybug's throat... if she can touch it, she will try to eat it.

She wants nothing to do with laying down,  and prefers to be held, sitting, or jumping....

Sometimes she even pulls the hybrid, "hold me in your lap while I jump,"... which she did to my Mother's Mother last week, and nearly (definitely) almost broke her arms.

Ladybug = not light.

Her thighs are seriouslynotevenkidding the size of my upper arms... and her cheeks are like giant baseballs... sometimes I bite them.

I worry that her Pediatrician is going to say to me, "So... about those bite marks...."

I cant possibly be the first parent to nom on their kid's face, can I?

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