6 Months.

Rohan had his half-birthday yesterday, and I cannot believe it's been 6 months already. Maybe it's the ease of having been there, done that once before that made these 6 months slip past without it seeming so long. Perhaps it's the mad rush you're constantly feeling when parenting 2 kids, working, and trying to keep a marriage and everything else in your life well-nourished and tended to. Either way, when I woke up yesterday and realized it had been 6 months since the day Rohan came into our lives, it almost felt unreal.



He's such a big, strong, vibrant boy. Cheeks so edible like apricots. Eyes so blue, lighting up every time he smiles. Two little teeth peeking out of the lower gums. Coos and goos and gurgles, elated screechs like a pteradactyl, hands forever searching for something (someone) to touch.

When I wake with him at night now, to soothe him back into baby dreams of milk and his big sister's smile, he reaches up with one hand and runs it through my hair. It's not the tugging and yanking moms grow to fear, but the gentlest touch as he runs his fingers through and then pulls the ends gently so he can rub the hairs against his cheeks.

He's a live wire, that boy of mine with the oversized hands (like his daddy) and the quick fire in his eyes (can I credit daddy with passing that down as well?). He's been mobile since he was just over 4 months old, quickly graduating from the rolling stage to the holy-shit-we-need-to-move-everything-above-crawling-baby-eye-level stage. Indeed it's not yet a hands-and-knees crawl, but he gets around faster than you'd expect. He's even mastered crawling over the legs of a parent, which were strategically positioned between him and the dog whose tail he was eager to either grab or bite, depending on his mood at the time. He sits up well on his own, and has begun to master the transfer from sitting to lying on his belly, which means the real crawl is not far behind. It also means we're in for a rude re-awakening, as we'd grown lax in baby proofing with a complacent toddler in the home. I fear we're going to be spending a lot of weekend hours clearing the floors to make room for Rohan.





Our challenges in the first 6 months have been plentiful between big sister jealousy, new schedules, figuring out how to go ANYWHERE alone with 2 little ones (grocery shopping with 2 kids requires a pre-store strategy session), and learning to manage Mastocytosis. Rohan's always been full of emotions, moving from happy to mad and back again in the blink of an eye. When he's upset, he wants touch: hold him, kiss him, rock him as he buries his little face into your neck and lets out his own baby version of a string of profanities (at least it's what it reminds me of). When he's happy, he...wants...touch: hold him in the air, kiss his buddha belly and ripe cheeks, rock him as he bends his forehead to touch yours and squeals in delight. As he gets older his temperament evens out gradually, and the fussiness is much more mild and manageable. Part of it is us; our mastery of his moods and the skill parents learn of being able to sense a meltdown just before it hits. But mostly I think he's come to learn he's safe with us and loved with us and this has made him mellow some. But there's still a fire there, in his eyes, and I wouldn't wish that fire away. It makes him who he is, and just as it sometimes ignites into a full-scale fit, more often than not that fire lights his face up into a smile to wide and bright you can't help but be charmed.

I swoon over this boy daily, our 6 month old with the cheeks and the hands and the smiles. And since I've been here once before, albeit with a different kid, I know not to mourn the passing of infancy as he becomes more mobile and independent. Instead, I wait eagerly for the day he adds "Dada!" to his repretoire of words (which right now consists only of "Mama") and the day he pushes up onto hands and knees and crawls and EVEN the day he learns to say "NO!". But I won't wish away these early months either, for their sweet smiles and the moments where he falls asleep in my arms, fat cheeks puffed out and mouth in an 'O', hand loosely grasping a wisp of my hair. I am so lucky to have him.