It started a month ago with a little bump on the bottom left front tooth area of the gum, followed by another about 1/8th of an inch away from it. Then, there were little white tips and we thought, “Any day now!” 2.5 weeks and a very, very horrible night later, Ben awakens me with his usual “Eh!” while trying to rip my lips off. He shoves my knuckle in his mouth and, while trying to shake it viciously in an attempt to break it’s neck, I feel something rough and sharp that wasn’t there before. After fighting for 10 minutes for him to stop laughing and covering his gum with his tongue when I pull down his bottom lip, I see it. A TOOFER! THE CHILD HAS A FULLY ERUPTED TOOFER!

Height: 25.5″ (25%)
Weight: 13lbs 8oz (3%)
Head: 46.6 cm (20%)

So my little guy is tiny. He’s isty bitsy. But he’s happy and his doctor’s not worried, so I won’t be either.

My boy is so grown up already, it’s hard to believe. I’ve awakened next to him every morning for 6 months and, somehow, I didn’t notice how quickly he was becoming a big boy. He laughs, he smiles, he talks to you and tries to sing along. He finds the remote under the blanket when I’m trying to hide it from him. He looks for his books every morning on the side table that I always keep them on. He gets on all fours and launches himself toward whatever he wants to get at; things that are generally things he shouldn’t be getting into. He pulls himself up on me to stand, to walk (one day) and gives me the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “Yeah, mama, I can do it. You’re in sooo much trouble.” It really doesn’t seem that long ago that he looked at me every few seconds as if I was an alien, now he holds his arms out and smiles everytime he sees me.

My little guy is half a year old. How did that happen so quickly? I see myself asking this every birthday for the rest of his life. It’s gone by so quickly but I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for anything else in the universe.

I love you, skinny lil’ man. Happy 6 month birthday.

I couldn’t wait the 6 months. I went 6 days early. He’s been wanting solid food for so long, it’s a shocker we managed to get this far without him learning how to walk just so he can eat in the middle of the night while we’re not looking.

Last night we strapped him into the high chair and I set to pumping so I’d have something to mix the powder with. In the meantime, Eric gave him a cheese wheel to play with and I tried not to worry that he’d rip it open, eat all the cheese and be sick for a month.

This was the first time I’d pumped in a long time, and, as usual, it took nearly 20 minutes to get an ounce and a half. Ben couldn’t possibly be surviving on 3 oz of breast milk every 2 hours, so I’m convinced that pumps and I just don’t get along. So there, to all those advice givers who kept saying, “Huh. That doesn’t make any sense…maybe you should pump more oftttttten.”

I mixed 1 tablespoon of rice powder (the overflow landing all over the floor…the floor that Eric just finished vacuuming) and 4T of breast milk (I nearly typed BM but, to me, BM is bowel movement and I just can’t manage to change that in my head) in his brand new, mama-gave-me-for-Christmas Classic Pooh bowl. Eric got the video camera and the regular camera ready. Yes, we are those people.

And then he ate.

And he liked it. He kept going for quite a while before doing something I’ve never seen him do before. He refused to allow anything else to enter his mouth. He was full, done, finito, that is it. Shocker.

He got more into his mouth than on his bib and I was incredibly proud of him, not to mention giddy because I (being the selfish mom that I am) was really, really excited to get a spoon in that boy for a long time.

He’s such a big boy.

So, I’ve been really slacking. I know it. I promise I will update on Ben’s Christmas and New Years very soon!

Ben said mama! Well, rather, he screeched mama while in a raging fit but he said it nonetheless! Whether or not he meant it is a different story.

I’ve been trying for months to get “mama” into Ben’s vocab. He’s got dadadadada down (again, whether or not he means it is a whole other story, but it is his favorite sound), as well as “papapapapa” and “thhthththththtttttt”. For a month or so, my dad and grandma have gotten him to say it. They’d say, “say mama.” Ben would respond with, “mamamamamama.” But for me? I’ve spent hours repeating, “mama mama mama” to him and in response I get a giant grin. Like, “Yeah, I know you want me to say it, this is why I won’t.” He’s an obstinate child.

However, I think it may have gotten through to him just a little. Last weekend Eric’s friend was over, we were having yet another 4 hour long debate on politics. Eric was holding Ben and, while Ben was obviously enjoying being in the action, it became nursing time. As usual, mini-fusses turned into a full blown, “SOMEONE HELP ME! I’M DYING!” fit within seconds. I looked over at the screaming child and what does he do? Looks me straight in the face, opens his arms and yells, “MAMA!”

And that, my dears, was the coolest moment of my entire life.