Peas and Carrots

I tap on my computer Luisa's six month update while she is well on her way to 8 months old.  Sweet 3rd baby, I wrote updates on your brother and sister almost monthly as babies.  When you look back someday, please do not hold it against me.  My lack of posts recording your milestones and temperament does not mean I treasure you any less.  It is a reflection of this Florida year.  A reflection of a mommy with 3 children, 5 and under.  Of time spent cleaning, cooking, instructing, and playing rather then writing, typing, and photoshopping.  Let's put the excuses aside now and talk about you, little baby.  Little Luisa Ray.

Me and you, you and me, we're like peas and carrots, Luisa.  I frequently sing you this diddy "You're my pea and I'm your carrot.  You're my pea and I'm your carrot.  You're my pea and I'm your carrot.  I'm with you every day, day, day."  You smile and laugh and even though I'm not quite carrot sized, this song describes us well.  You are a peaceful baby, happy to go with me anywhere.  You have yet to take too kindly to the bottle and so this "togetherness" is a necessity but I don't mind.  We run errands together, visit brother and sister at school, grocery shop, go on dates with Daddy and to his department parties at fancy houses.  You traveled with Daddy and Mommy to find a house in Florida and you will be traveling with us again in June to find another house in Alabama.  On Fridays you go with me to the coffee shop, where you play in your travel bed as I drink my coffee slowly.  You are almost the mascot there as the baristas make on over you.  You smile at strangers and then shyly bury your head in my shoulder.  "She's like a doll!" they all say.

 

 

So much has happened in your short little life.  You moved to Florida, endured RSV and pneumonia, took an airplane trip to Texas for Uncle Peter's wedding, and survived your first (and hopefully LAST) double ear infections.  You are meeting your milestones right on time and are currently rolling over, trying to crawl, and babbling up a storm.  You smiled early, not surprising given your disposition.  At 7 months, we are almost certain you are saying "Mama!" The speech therapist in me is skeptical as this is way too early to have your first word.  Nevertheless, you say "mamama" when you are upset or when you see me pass by in the hallway.

 

 You are enjoying baby food, with bananas being your absolute favorite.  I make your baby food with this awesome gadget.  I do so, not to make a statement on processed foods or organic produce, but rather because it brings me joy.  I slip dabs of butter in your peas and a pinches of brown sugar in your sweet potatoes and carrots.  When you gobble it up, my heart swells with pride.

 Your hair is growing redder and your eyebrows are strawberry blond.  I often wonder what it will look like when you are Sophia's age.  Unlike your sister and brother, your eyes have stayed blue.  As a result, Daddy likes to sing you, "Blue Eyes Cryin in the Rain," by Willie Nelson.  {That Daddy and his Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson!!!}  When you are happy or excited, you work your feet in circles to show your pleasure.  It's ever so precious.  Take a look:

 

Your take great delight in your big brother and sister.  When your Daddy comes home your feet kick and your hands reach for his face.  You love your Honey Bunny lovie and riding in your floatie in the pool.  Your feet and legs kick, kick, kick in the pool.

You are baby, though, and as such you have exercised your right to worry your mother on a few occasions.  You decided it would be nice to sleep in your tiny bassinet until 6 months of age.  Every thump in the night sent your mother dashing to your door to make sure you had not fallen out.  A new crib mattress later and a few rolled up towels under the mattress to elevate the head and you are sleeping in your crib just fine now.  When you are tired you attack your eyes and nose with your fingernails, rubbing, rubbing, and scratching if your nails are too long.  And finally there are your "fits," as your Daddy and I like to call them.  When you were born, right after the doctor unwrapped the cord from your neck and the nurses suctioned your lungs free from meconium, you wailed.  And didn't stop wailing for the next 45 minutes.  No amount of singing, talking, or nursing made you stop.  Much to our relief, we soon discovered your personality to be markedly free of "fussing."  Strangers remark on your happy demeanor and we are grateful beyond words for your easy-going temperament.  But there are times, like the first hour after your birth, when you are hurt, or hungry, or over-tired and you cry inconsolably.  Your cries are so intense that we frantically search your body for bug bites or pinched skin.  Then we remember.  You are letting us know, in your Luisa way, that things are not o.kay.  I wonder if tears will come quickly and loudly as you grow?

Luisa, you are indeed my little pea, your face round with cheeks plump and chewable.  I'm your carrot because we go so well together.  I love you little baby!