Past the Halfway Point
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.

