My daughter will turn six months old next week. That is mind-blowing. In one moment I don’t remember life before her. In the next the day I went into labor with her feels like it just happened. I had the flu. That was fun. I’ll make time to write her birth story soon, while I still remember a lot of the details. Like having to wear a mask to push.
Eliza is, I think, a lot like any nearly six month old. She’s the only one I’ve ever had, though.
She weighs 16 pounds 1 ounce, as of yesterday. She’s incredibly sassy already.
She loves: smiling, babbling (quite the little talker, this one), her puppy, Sophie the giraffe, playing SuperBaby and sweet potatoes.
She dislikes: being hungry (the word hangry was made for her), ear infections (I mean, who does?) and napping. This kid isn’t a great sleeper. The overnights have improved a lot, but during the day she thinks sleeping is extremely overrated and insists she won’t do it. Especially when she really needs to.
We’re going to attempt sleep training soon. It should be an adventure in my sanity.
I’m tired a lot. I drink a ton of coffee. I don’t shower as frequently as I’d like. But when this kid giggles and I could cry from happiness. A few minutes after she was born and she was placed on my chest I asked her if I could be her mom. I hope she agreed because I’m crazy about her.
Eliza loves sweet potatoes: exhibit A