Monday, May 30, 2005


Tomorrow Mary is 5 months old. I can’t believe that she has been with us for that long. It’s strange, sometimes it feels like she has been with us forever, and sometimes it feels like just yesterday that she first came home. She looks much the same to me as she did when she came home, but I know she isn’t. I look at pictures of her when she was a newborn, and it is amazing how much she has changed in less than half a year.

Now Mary can laugh, and although it’s still difficult to get those giggles out of her, it is amazingly rewarding to do so. She has some consonants, she says “agah, nwaah,” and when she is upset she says “bbbbbbb, mmmmm.” She hasn’t rolled over yet, which some people might be concerned about, but she works really hard at it, and I hardly give her any time on her tummy. She is actually starting to enjoy tummy time now, so she spends more time. When she is on her tummy, she kicks so hard that she cam move from one end of the couch to the other. She found her feet last week, and now most of her time is spent with one foot in her hand, I don’t think she has quite figured out what to do with it, but I’m sure that some day soon we will find her with her foot in her mouth.

Mary moved into her crib last week, and out of our bedroom. She was so good about it; it didn’t bother her at all. The first night she slept in her crib, I cried a little (pathetic). I kept saying to Ian “if I can’t handle this, how am I going to deal with kindergarten, or going back to work?” I know school is a long ways off, but work isn’t, and the thought of leaving her with someone else to raise her makes me ill.

Before Mary came, I never really thought I would be a good mum, and I wasn’t sure that I would enjoy it. Now that she has come, I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. I’ve said it before, and I will say it now. I have never, ever been as happy as I am now that she is a part of my life. Every day, I am so thankful to her for brightening my life up. Even on the days where she is a monster, and they are often lately with her teething, I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. Nearly everything I do, I do for her, and when I’m not doing something for her, she is never out of my mind.

My friend, who has a 7 year old, said that she has finally realised the saddest thing about being a parent. No matter how much your child loves you, they will never love you as much as you love them. I love my parents so much, but now I know that what I feel for them must only be a fraction of the love they have for me. It makes me want to call them and just let them know how much I love them.


Anonymous said...

Great, now I've got diabetes from reading your blog.

Joking! It was very beautiful and well written. Plus it explains why my Dad hasn't killed me yet when I break stuff.


Emmett said...

If I had a baby, every now and again I'd just have to imperiously declare, "SILENCE! Or I shall feed you to the cat!"

But then Germans very much have a "children are better seen and not heard" attitude traditionally, and my parents are no exception. I really can't imagine then looking at me as a baby and gushing over how much they love me. Even trying to picture that in my head makes me scrunch up my nose.

Starlin' said...

Imagine them with grandkids. It might help.

My first major boyfriend was indelibly German, and his parents were not exactly all about the fuzzy huggy-ness. But when they got grandkids... well, that's a whole other ballgame, and I suspect reflects their reaction to their own children fairly well.

~ Starlin'