A few days ago, you turned 5 months old. This month, I write this letter to you not just because I like to have a monthly summary of what you’ve been up to, but because you father has no idea how old you are. This should help him keep track. Try not to take it too personally that your father tried to convince me you were a month older than you actually are – he gets my birthday wrong all the time.
This has been a big, big month, Helen. You roll! With varying levels of difficulty, you manage to flip yourself from front to back regularly. I’ve been working with you daily to figure out the back to front maneuver because I believe this is the key to you never waking me up again.
You sleep, Helen. Oh, how you sleep. Except for maybe 5 nights this month (probably fewer), you slept at least 8 consecutive hours, most nights you slept 9 consecutive hours, and several times you slept 11 consecutive hours. I go to sleep each night assuming I’m going to get to sleep until at least 4:00, and that is a beautiful thing. When you do get up, you eat like a professional eater, fall back to sleep, and don’t wake again until 7:00 or 8:00. The few times you haven’t slept like a champ, you seem to have gas or other tummy troubles, so it’s perfectly understandable that you call out. Someday, your stomach will function normally (hopefully!). I lodge a pillow on your side these days to make it difficult for you to roll over because that used to wake you up, and it’s annoying to get out of bed, walk across the hall, flip you over, and then try and get back to sleep. I can lodge the pillow beside you, because you no longer sleep on your tummy with your face in that pillow. Now, you sleep on your tummy with no pillow beneath your head. (You lost head pillow privileges when you started rolling off it and getting annoyed in the middle of the night, waking me up to be put back on the pillow.)
We’ve been able to spend more time outside lately and you do love the wind blowing through the magnolia tree and hearing the chimes. Someday, you’ll be able to play in the sand and water table beneath that same magnolia, but for now, you do seem content casting your gaze upward.
You have become a master at reaching up for toys above you, and this includes those round glass things your dad wears on his face. I suppose Connor pretty much trashed those same glasses when he was your age, so what’s a few more scratches?
Your hands, Helen, oh how you love those hands. They are almost always in your mouth, even when they are covered with vomit. That is disgusting, Helen, and we do try and wipe them very fast. You've also been known to eat a little soap if we don't get them rinsed off quickly enough in the bath.
Our mornings have become quite fun. You wake up happy, Helen, and I really appreciate this. You might be the only member of the house who wakes up, laughs, and tests out all your limbs by pumping your fists and kicking your legs around. You seem to enjoy this little workout. After a few minutes, Connor will run in and tell you good morning and then he requests I put him in your crib. At that point, he’ll flip your light switch on for you, snuggle a bit, and shout “good morning, Helen!”. It’s a lovely way to start the day.