The first clothing Mr. Burt and I purchased for the Burt Squirt when we found out we were having a boy was not a sweet, tiny newborn outfit  in which to bring him home from the hospital. It was far less practical than that, and in a size much bigger than newborn.

Our unborn boy already had a dragon costume for his first Halloween.

We knew our Burt Squirt would be adorable in his dragon costume, but at the same time we couldn’t imagine that the baby, still only half-term inside me, could ever have long enough arms and legs to fill the sleeves and pant legs. After he was born and, for the first few months, consistently measured in the 25th percentile for length, it seemed even less likely he’d grow into his dragon suit in time for Halloween.

But on Halloween, which also happened to be the eve of the Burt Squirt’s eight month-birthday, Mr. Burt and I dressed him in the costume as we’d anticipated doing for so long.

And we found it fit, perfectly.

Must be all that baby food he’s been eating almost ever since I posted about him not eating it on his seven month birthday. It took going against the pediatrician’s advice and introducing fruits before vegetables, but going by the way the Burt Squirt scarfed down an entire jar of squash in about two minutes flat the other night, there wasn’t any harm in our method. Now he eats at least jar of fruit and a jar of vegetables a day, divided over breakfast and dinner, and we’re working on a jar of fruit or vegetables, depending on his intestinal needs, for lunch. Breastfeeding is still going strong; he nurses about five times a day, which is great, and usually refuses a bottle, which is not so great. I’d really like to get back to choir, so we’ve got to figure out a solution to get him to eat when I’m not around for that bedtime feeding.

The one time he’s not eating anymore is in the middle of the night. He’d dropped the nighttime feed at around two months, but then at five months had a growth spurt and started teething and was waking to nurse in the middle of the night consistently until about three weeks ago. As of last week he continued waking with gas, but then one night he rolled onto his side, which he’d never done before, and slept through the night, with repeat performances the next three nights as he discovered that the side and tummy are comfier than the back–and better for working through those pesky nighttime toots.

And I’m betting that now he doesn’t mind being on his tummy, crawling really will happen any day now. If he doesn’t take off walking first. He can stand on his own for a good ten seconds now; yesterday he hit twenty, in his dragon costume, but I think that was because the tail gave him a little extra balance. He hasn’t pulled up on any stationary objects yet, though he tries, because all our furniture seems to be a little too tall for him. I thought for a minute he was going to pull up on the refrigerator today while he was playing in the kitchen while I fixed myself some lunch, but then I realized he was only hugging it. And kissing it. (Maybe all that affection will make my crisper drawer stop freezing my produce.)

There’s a lot of that going around.

If I were a good mommy blogger, the first of every month would bring an update about the Burt Squirt’s growth and development. Alas, I am not a good mommy blogger; you will find no such posts prior to this, the Burt Squirt’s seven-month birthday. Probably I shouldn’t admit that my sudden motivation to blog is prompted by the fact that the alternative for this time before the Burt Squirt awakes is to clean the bathroom. That choice would make a blogger of anyone.

From what I’ve seen in the mommy blogging world, these kinds of posts typically start out with stats. This reminds me of something I read once about infancy being the only time when it’s considered polite to ask how much a person weighs or remark on how much hair he has. I’m not sure if anyone ever thought to ask the babies if they think it’s polite, but for the sake of perceived good manners, I’ll go with it.

At seven months old, the Burt Squirt weighs upwards of 20 pounds and is 27ish inches long. Forgive my imprecision, but he doesn’t have a checkup this month and our scale needs new batteries. I assume he’s heavier and longer than he was at six months, as he’s filling out his 6-9 month PJs nicely. Of course, it’s highly possible I shrank them in the dryer…I prefer growth spurt, especially considering how many times I nursed the kid yesterday.

Yes, at seven months old, the Burt Squirt is still nursing pretty much exclusively and shows no signs of giving up any of his six or seven daily feedings. Which isn’t great for the amount of sleep I’m getting, but I’m just glad he hasn’t cut any teeth yet–though Niagara Falls flowing forth from his mouth and constant chewing everything lead me to believe they’re on their way. We’ve spent the past month introducing baby food, but, “Liam, Mashed Sweet Potatoes; Mashed Sweet Potatoes, Liam,” is about the extent of our progress. There were two days in there where he voluntarily opened his mouth and ate apples, but then it was time to move on to other things and there hasn’t been a repeat performance, despite my singing Bananaphone and Peaches in the attempt to make him laugh and open his mouth. He grins–with his lips pressed firmly together. The Burt Squirt is nobody’s fool.

He’s actually sparing with his laughter in general, which obviously means he has a has a highly cultivated and discerning sense of humor, cracking up only at such comic gems as “poopies” said in a silly voice.

Just because the Burt Squirt doesn’t laugh a lot doesn’t mean he’s not a happy baby. Happy is his default setting, and he smiles and jabbers “dada” and “baba” all day to express it. Especially if he’s outside, or on the go. This is not a child who likes to sit around the house all day–a surprising trait in the offspring of two troglodytes. Lucky for him, he’ll be celebrating his seven month birthday with lunch at Babe‘s and coffee at Mozart Bakery.

Less surprising is his clear desire for independence. If the Burt Squirt’s not happy, it’s generally because he’s not where he wants to be and can’t get there on his own. He’d like nothing better than for me to hold his hands and help him walk around the house all day long. He gets less frustrated now that he’s finally learned to roll from back to front–a motor skill his pediatrician assured us is often delayed in kids with more weight to lug around. Though I think the delay was due less to physical inability as lack of interest in doing so, because one day he just suddenly did it, multiple times in a row, with great ease, and it was obvious he’d been holding out on us. There was a look on his face of, “Oh, I can get across a room if I do that. Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

He’ll be asking himself the same question when he figures out how to crawl, which is sure to happen any day now. He’s quite adept at lunging from a sitting position onto his hands and knees. What he needs is a good set of guns like I have–from carrying the 20 pound Burt Squirt around.

As we’ve come full-circle back to weight, it seems this Burt Squirt update has come to a close. It’s cliché, but I can hardly believe that more than half of his first year is already over and gone. How could seven months have slipped past since I first nuzzled his cheek in the operating room? And how could he be so big when a year ago today he was just a little 17 week-old bump in my tummy?

That time flies like it does makes me glad for those few hours each day when I don’t get any housework done because I”m stuck in my nursing chair snuggling with my little squirt who refuses to nap anywhere but in my lap.

Because that’s the only time I get to be a mommy blogger.

You wouldn’t think it would take me a month to post about the most important event of my life to date.  Then again, the sort of event that qualifies as the most important one of my life to date isn’t exactly conducive to having the time to write the sort of blog post that does it justice, so maybe you would think it would take me a month.  Of course, it only took me a few days to post pics to Facebook, so maybe this is just yet another of those cases where Facebook has ruined my ability to blog.  Seeing as there are all of ten of you who actually follow my blog and you’re all on Facebook, there’s probably very little point to posting now.  But A) it seems wrong not to mention the birth of my first baby on my blog and B) even though there are captions on my Facebook pics, they don’t convey my point of view.  Not that I’m likely conveying much through these sleep-deprived words.   But anyway, here goes…

All through my pregnancy, I watched TLC’s A Baby Story religiously. All five times a day it airs. Then I called it preparation for childbirth. Now, twenty-nine days after giving birth, I’m still watching it, only I call it all I do is nurse my baby every 2-3 hours, what else am I supposed to do? comparing notes.  Herein follows my baby story:  Read the rest of this entry »