8 Months?

8 months?! You cannot be 8 months already! How did you manage to get so big so fast? Why do I keep saying that as if I’m surprised the next month has suddenly come upon us? In another minute or two, you’re going to be 9 months and I’m not going to know where this 8th month went.

This month has been one giant milestone after the other. You manage to wake up and surprise the heck out of me everyday with something new. You’ve even decided that your favorite music is hip hop. HIP HOP! You like Snoop Dogg. What kind of 8 month old likes Snoop Dogg? What kind of 8 month old DANCES to Snoop Dogg? Only you. And only you would sing along, too.

Much to my chagrin, your grandma taught you how zippers work and now I’m worried that you’re suddenly going to zip your skin into your jammies one morning or figure out how to remove the debit card so you can book a flight to Vegas, marry some stripper and ruin. your. life! Remind me, when you get older, to discuss with you the dangers of marrying a girl named after a liquor, a food or a fairy tale character.

You’ve discovered that “no” means “stop doing that thing you’re enjoying so much that might get you killed”, and you don’t like it one bit. In fact, at the mere beginning of the word, your super sad, show me all your gums look spreads across your face and you start screaming like a raving banshee. “How DARE you tell me I’m not allowed to stand at the coffee table and throw the glass frames on the hardwood!” or “I prefer drawing on the carpet to the coloring book. Why is that a problem?” I know, I am one ridiculously facistic mama.

Suddenly, to my amazement, you showed us you’ve learned where our noses are. You respond to, “Where’s mommy’s nose?” by poking me in my nose. You respond to, “Where’s daddy’s nose?” by poking him in his. You respond to, “Where’s Benjamin’s nose?” by looking at me like I’m insane. I mean, really, how can I expect you to show me where your nose is when you can’t even look at it? I ask too much sometimes.

You’re getting so strong and so smart, I’m a little afraid. You’re going to be walking around the house and disassembling VCRs and stereos before you’re a year old. You’re going to be correcting my spelling in a matter of days and probably telling all your friends, “My mom is very sweet but she can be a little slow sometimes” well before you even hit school age.

All this to say, I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing. I couldn’t have asked for a better baby and I know I am incredibly blessed to be your mama.

Love,
Yer Ma’

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