To Archer Gene, Six Months

Dearest Archer,

Yesterday was your half birthday. You are six months old.

You are becoming less and less fragile, which, by the time you read this, you will realize is a particular bit of goodness for your spaz of a mother. You sleep in our bed, and my worry that you’ll be crushed by the rapid-cycle hibernating bear that is your father or smacked in the spleen by one of your brother’s flying limbs, lessens every day.

You are still so very slight, though. You’re the tiniest peanut, definitely closer to Kieran than Griffon in stature. That may change, of course, but for now, you’re just a perfect, tiny baby bird of a boy.

You’re developing preferences now. It breaks your heart when I leave the room, or even walk away from you. If you’re tired, you absolutely fall apart when this happens. You wail and kick your legs, and your eyes get all red and puffy. It’s adorable and so so sad.

I was hoping you’d be a thumbsucker, and I think you could have been (you sucked your thumb in the womb and started trying to get it in your mouth again shortly after you were born), but I think we missed our window. You were always just as easily soothed by a pacifier, and now you *want* it. When you see a pacifier, you stare at it and clasp your little hands together like you’re trying to move it with your mind. If someone doesn’t give it to you, you start this little grunty whining thing, which increases in intensity until it’s in your mouth. You’re starting to be able to guide it yourself, though, if it’s in your fingers. I know from the experience of parenting one other “passer” baby that this is the start of good times!

I gave you rice cereal with smashed bananas for the first time a couple days ago. You *really* liked it. You kept lunging forward and whining for another spoonful. For such a little sprite, and one so new to food, it was really kinda shocking.

This month, you got sick for the first time. You ran a fever and had the same head/chest cold all of us (except Daddy, with his superhuman immunity) had. I hate to see any of you sick – both because I hate to see you unhappy and because it worries me so much – but most of all, you, littlest one. Your little heater body woke me up lots of times over those 48 hours or so you were sick, and my first thought, always, was to gauge how bad your fever was and to look at the clock to figure out when you could have ibuprofen again. (I fear you’re going to be a fever overachiever like your sister.)

Your sleep schedule seems to be a tiny bit easier now. Your happy period in the morning is still short, but it seems like your naps are consolidating (into about three a day), and you’re able to be placated a little easier when you’re super tired but can’t yet go down. You’ve also gotten pretty good about falling asleep in your hammock when we put you down awake. I lay you in it and put the positioner around your thighs now, give you your pacifier and brown blanket to cuddle, put another blanket partly over the top to block sun, and you typically roll a little to one side and go to sleep. The times you do fight it, it’s usually with just a little of that grunty whining business.

This week, you will fly with me and Daddy to Philadelphia. I have to go for work, and Daddy is using a frequent flyer ticket and bringing you up for the weekend. When I think of the trip, all I imagine is your cute little face bundled up in warm sleepers and a big (tiny) coat. I can’t wait to see your eyes go wide and your legs start kicking at the cold.

I’m so happy I get to be your Momma. I love you, sweet boy.

Me