So here I am again, as I am about once a month, beginning a new blog post. As I usually do when I begin these posts, I feel contrite about my absense and determined to be more present. There are so many things I want to say about everything happening in your lives– so many comments that I want to make on your posts, so many congratulations and comisserations I want to offer. Please know that I am reading and following– that I care about what is happening and think about you as I go about my days. It’s just that I usually read your posts on the small screen of my phone, around 3am when my eyes are heavy and my fingers are clumsy, so I don’t comment.
There are also so many posts that I want to write. I want to tell you about feelings of queerness in queer and parenting communities alike, about donor siblings, about visitors, about no longer blogging anonymously, about everything. But right now, as I wonder how many minutes I have until I hear the baby’s cries over the monitor, I just want to tell you about her.Bingo really understands “peek-a-boo” now. She didn’t for a long time: at first our appearances and disappearances behind blankets or furniture edges were meaningless; then, the sound of the syllables made her smile; finally, she seemed to acknowledge, “Oh, that is funny!” Now she would happily play for hours. I love that we are all of the entertainment that she needs: that, for now, she is free of embarassment, derision or boredom. Her nose wrinkles when she smiles, a wide grin that always reaches her eyes and sometimes stretches all of the way to her kicking feet.
She loves our cats, the sound of windchimes, swimming, books and rattles. When the winter (finally) ended, she learned the joy of being outdoors: she squeals with delight when we take her to the park and would stay in the swing forever. Her first solid food was carrot at six months, which introduced her to a whole new world of delight. Her very favourite foods are bananas and my iPhone, but really all foods are good foods. Broccoli is a notable exception.
Her list of baby sorrows is otherwise short: having her face wiped (the worst), diaper changes, the nasal aspirator of doom, the stroller, sleep.
Yes, sleep is still a challenge. More for me than for Bingo, really. She can refuse to nap, wake up five times in a night, declare 2am-4am baby party time, and still wake up kicking her feet happily at 7am. I, on the otherhand, find myself dosing off in her room in the middle of the night as I make futile attempts to nurse her back to sleep. Sometimes I try to read the internet or play a game on my phone, but I’m often too tired for even these mundane distractions. No matter how difficult these long nights feel, I am somehow always okay in the morning.
Though she may not be able to sleep, there are many things that Bingo can do. She can sit, roll (occassionally off things), babble up a storm (mamamama, dadadada, ah-gah!), use a pincer grasp, wave (though, inexplicably, only to Sea), and sign for milk. As of this week she has mastered a slow commando crawl, which she is already utilizing most effectively to get into things she shouldn’t. She smiles at everybody, strangers included, though she would rather only be held by me or Sea thank-you-very-much. She is loved and valued by many people: me, Sea, our families, our friends, people we didn’t even know eight months ago.
All of the cliches about time passing quickly are proving true. I look at photos from months, even weeks ago, and think how babyish she looks in pictures that were previously her “grown up” ones. I like each stage better than the last. I am so excited to watch Bingo grow and become more herself, and I also wish I could freeze eight months.