Memo to Emmy: 8 months

Hi Schemels:

That's one of the nicknames you've developed over the past 8 months of your life. We also call you Schemmy and Emerlou and Emmels and MiMoo and Ti Tah. The last one is Asian Grandma's nickname for you. No, I don't know why.

Since the last time I wrote to you about how things were coming along, you've become quite a babbler and raspberry maker. You yell with delight every time I hold your hands and let you walk on the floor with your little microsteps. It kills my lower back to take those 56 steps between your play pad and my bedroom but it's worth the every ache because you have such a huge open mouth grin on your face the whole time. And I sing, "Na Na Na Na Na Na...Here comes the Hotsteppa, turn her out. Still love me like thaaaat."

You are now rolling around in your crib like nobody's business. From back to belly and all the way over to the other side. We love to spy on you with the baby monitor. Never has  grainy black and white video been so entertaining. But you cry at least 75% of the time when we put you down for your two naps and your nighttime sleep. Even when you're super tired and rubbing your eyes and yawning, you still fight the sleepies. Until you can't...do...it...anymore. And that's when you roll onto your left side and just pass out like you just got home from a pub crawl and you were the last baby standing.

Your four little tooths are constantly grinding in your mouth, churning my intestines into knotted ropes. But those tooths are helping you with your favorite activity in the whole world. No, not biting down on Mommy's nipple when you are done with your milkfest. That's just mildly entertaining to you. You open your eyes all wide and look up like, "What?" when I clench my sphincter and blow on your face to stop you from clamping down. Because, according to the parenting books, yelling at you or screaming would not be appropriate at this stage.

No, your favorite activity is eating. Anything. Papaya, persimmons, oatmeal, green beans, mango, squash, sweet potatoes...You love it all. Still waiting to try durian. Yeah, those poops are going to be freaky.

Just a couple days ago you began to grab your own little crunchies for the first time.

Emmy's First Crunchie Grab from Vicky Nguyen on Vimeo.

 

You love to crinkle your nose and smile like an imp and you make Daddy smile and act like a big silly clown whenever he sees you because he loves your impy face.

You talk to Asian Grandma the most. Yell at her actually. You are already showing signs of diva-ness. Not Rihanna-level diva. J-Lo when-she-was-part-of-Bennifer-level diva.

And suddenly, Mommy has become your newest BFF. You cry for me and reach for me when I walk by like I'm a long lost matey from your pirate ship. It's really new, this Mommy and Me attitude. I swear I haven't been feeding you chocolate chips when no one's looking to bribe you into making me your favorite person. I think maybe you've figured out I'm your milk jug and you like your milk jug close. It's all about acccess and power. I get it, it's the same way I feel about Daddy.

You've also produced the craziest pyramid shaped poops. Somehow formed into perfect triangular mounds by your little buttcheeks. It was monumental. Daddy texted me three photos on that momentous day. Yes, it was a bit much.

What we can't yet figure out is this thing you do. Where you really really bear down. And then grunnnnnnt. If ever there was a sound and facial expression to go with the creation of pyramid poops, it would be this one. Only YOU NEVER POOP when  you do this. You just do it for 10 seconds, at random times, and then...nothing. You go back to playing with your socks. It's a 48 Hours Baby Mystery.

Happy almost 8 month birthday. We adore you Schemmy. Even though you smell like carnie cabbage farts every single morning.