Eight months old

Wow. This was the month that it all started to make sense. When I see Emmy with her first tricycle or going to kindergarten or running with her friends, this is the month that I will think of and smile. She's always been our girl and we of course adored her, but this is the month that our hearts just about exploded for her. She crawls every where and is trying so hard to be able to walk. She reminds of a Clydesdale horse when she is tromping around the house on all fours. The way that they are so ceremonial and left their hoofs up so high when they prance around--that's The Girl. You can hear her coming down the hall with her hands coming so high off the ground and then slapping back down to the floor. It's precious. And the giggle! The giggle is fabulous. It is almost like a maniacal little person in there. And the teeth! There are five and a half of them now! She will be eating apples before too long!

A few weeks ago she grew up and started sleeping in her bed. The first night was awful. She screamed for 45 minutes before she finally slept for the night. The next night it was 30 minutes and then 15 minutes and then 7 minutes and then 75 seconds. At first, it was wonderful. We were delighted that we were finally tough enough to get her out of our bed and let her cry it out. But then I missed her. She is such a restless sleeper that I thought we would all sleep better with her in her own bed. It has proved two-thirds true. She and John are sleeping through the night. I get up at 2am for our bottle and there is no one awake to take a bottle. So, I lie in bed and think. And think. And miss my girl. One night, I put her in bed with us and she of course was up in the middle of the night. I wanted to do it again but knew that it was not fair to her so I put her in her crib and she was asleep before I got back in our room to turn on the baby monitor. I wanted to sit on the bedside and cry--she already doesn't need me any more.

And then she said Mama. She said it again and again. She called the diaper, the bottle, the dog and even the stacking cups "mama". When we were driving back from Fayetteville this weekend and she was desperate to get out of her seat, she screamed "maaaaaaaaaaaaaamaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and John looked at me and said, "I hope to God she doesn't learn to say Dadoo, I can't take that".

So when my sweet Emmy is a preteen and she hates me and has horrible taste in hair, clothes and music, I will remember this. I will remember sitting here on the couch writing this and see her little nimble body standing at the doorway laughing and smiling at me with her little Jack-o-Lantern mouth, trying so desperately to hold herself up. This is the time I will always remember that Emmy turned into a little person, with her own little personality and characteristics. We are pretty damn lucky.