Seven Months

I sat down to write Ivy's six month post and realized this is her seven month post. My tiny baby girl turned seven months old yesterday!

And she still thinks her feet are totally it.

(Just between us, they totally are.)
I was going to brag just a little tiny bit about how at night, Ivy is the sleepin'-est baby who ever slept. How she goes down without a hitch at 7:00 every evening, wakes up once to chow down at 3:00 AM, and then sleeps another four hours. But then The Devil's Daylight Savings Time happened and threw everything off. You'd think that "springing forward" one hour would mean that everything would shift by about one hour. You'd be wrong.

Ah, Baby Sleep, you crazy beast.


Ivy is days away from crawling. Rob is sure she'll have it mastered by next Friday. She can get up on her hands and knees no problem. All fours, nothin' to it. Then she takes a crawling "step" and collapses face first into the rug. It's exhausting to watch her, but also kind of inspiring. She never once falls down and goes, "Well, screw that. So not worth it."

Ivy is surprisingly mobile for a non-crawling baby. As in, we should have baby-proofed weeks ago. And she's very pleased with herself for being able to do this.

Sittin' pretty.
Sitting up is the best! Ivy loves sitting up because now she can sit up! And play with toys! And see the world from an upright position! Hallelujah! I love it because I can plunk her down in front of her little toy piano and run to the bathroom worry-free. As long as I hear the experimental symphony going on in the other room, I know all is well. The piano was a big hit, now that she's able to sit up at it. Her other favorite toys are her jingly worm (which goes inside a much-less-interesting plush apple), the zippers on my boots (endlessly fascinating), the book you're trying to read, and the glass you're trying to drink out of. She's a very social little lady. She loves to smile and coo at friendly strangers. When we took my dad out to brunch to celebrate his birthday, Ivy decided to initiate a conversation with the bus boy by grabbing his sleeve and beaming up at him.  I know it's too early for her to be saying any real words, but she makes a sound that I'm sure is meant as some kind of greeting. It even sounds a lot like, "Hi-eee!"
Getting Ivy dressed is a nightmare now that she's determined to learn to crawl. She can flip over in the blink of an eye, and she's strong, so flipping her back over (when she doesn't want to be moved) is no easy task. I've given up on the idea of a quick diaper change for now. When I put her on the changing table, I know we'll be there for at least 15 minutes.

I've also given up on socks. Baby socks are ridiculous. Ivy has decided that they're more fun to teethe on than they are to wear. She loves to take her socks off and stuff them in her mouth. It seems to give her a real sense of accomplishment. If she can reach her feet, there's no way to keep her socks on. For a minute, I thought, "This is what baby shoes are for!" and dug out Westley's old Robeez. No luck. She can get those off too—though there's some complaining involved.
Even so, Ivy remains the happiest baby I've ever met.

Happy Seven Months, Chickadee. I love you like crazy.

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