Seven...

Seven months. Seven months and Ellie Bea has bloomed into this amazing, complicated, hilarious little person. It's the coolest thing EVER. And, well, it's kicking my ass. Exhibit A being that this was supposed to be a six month post, and, now, here we are. But that's okay, six months blended into seven, and all the amazing things that have happened with our little girl can be rolled into each other. So lets get to it....

Oh, Ellie Bea.

You are the smiliest, happiest baby girl I have ever known, and people comment on what a joy you are all the time. Don't get me wrong, you have your moments, but they're mostly private ones--in fact, they are mostly for Mommy only, and I'm tough, I can take it. You smile so much, but ironically, you're still stingy with the laughter. In fact, there is only one person in our world so far that can consistently crack you up, and that is my mother, who has chosen to be called LaLa (if we can make that stick). LaLa is hilarious to you, and she has magic shoes that you are fascinated by. But, laughter or no, you seem to have room in your heart for us all. You adore your Grandaddy Frank and have developed quite a routine for the evenings you spend at he and Granna's house. And you seem to worship your Daddy almost as much as he worships you, which leads me to believe that the two of you will just be IMPOSSIBLE one day, but I will love you both anyway.

Suddenly and without warning last month, you began to balance while sitting up, and the world opened up. You sit up like a big girl in the bathtub, in the shopping cart, and you are happy as a clam to sit on a blanket in the middle of the floor, surrounded by toys you can bang and throw. Sitting up has opened up all sorts of possibilities like umbrella strollers and backpack carriers, and Mamma is positively ecstatic that Spring has arrived and we can start using all these fun new things. Of course, now I'm terrified about the potential for you to crawl soon, but that's a story for another time... Today you and I went to a consignment sale and came home with an exersaucer, and after 3o minutes (during which you were so excited you drooled like a maniac and panted to the point of hyperventilation), I was ready to write a fan letter to whoever invented that thing because I was able to clean the kitchen UNINTERRUPTED and start a batch of green beans and carrot babyfood. It was a magic moment, and I hope like hell the saucer remains as fascinating for another month or two.

At your six month checkup, you screamed bloody murder from the moment we entered the exam room until well after the vaccinations. Mamma broke into a sweat and my fuzzy cardigan literally began TO SHED on your naked, screaming body, but we survived. Your height was only in the 20th percentile (shorty like your mom), your weight in the 50th, and, oh, my little darlin', your gigantic Hall noggin posted an impressive 90th percentile. Your legs are adorably chubby, in fact, we've taken to referring to your thighs as your 'baby hams'. As always, Mamma could absolutely devour your chunky little feets, and Oh My LORD YOU ARE DELICIOUS.

We had to go back to the doctor last week for your flu shot booster. Daddy and I were prepared for the worst. Instead, you simply lay on the table, flashed your smile at the nurse, and never shed a single tear. Dearest, you never fail to amaze me.

Sleep is still a battle. We can't seem to get back to the glory days of sleeping through the night, but I was fine with a midnight bottle and a 7am wake up call. Unfortunately lately, your nightly acrobatics send you to all corners of the crib, and you wake up at midnight...and 3 am....and 5...and oh, sweet girl, we've got to get over this. Daddy and I are those people that love their sleep, baby, and we are cranky humans without it. Lets work on that together, shall we?

Your little wardrobe remains impressive. You are wearing 6-9 month sizes in most outfits, and the stack of outgrown clothes in your closet has become a tower. Actually, there are two piles, one to sell/give away, and one of tiny things I cannot seem to part with. I'm not sure if I'll just keep them in a box forever to take out and caress whenever I feel like, or if I'll turn them into a quilt I can curl up in an cry over when you go off to college.

Everyone is right. It goes by so fast. So. Darn. Fast.

Don't be in a hurry to grow up, Baby Girl. Mamma's heart can't take it.