Rosalynn Elizabeth is six months old. Seriously. Six months.
I’m not quite sure how this happened. Six months ago, I couldn’t believe I was going to bring home a second baby. How could I possibly love another baby as much as I love Mitchell? How could I give them both as much attention as they need? I remember crying as I rocked Mitchell to sleep for his final nap time as an only child.
I can’t believe I was ever worried about having enough love to go around. Both of my babies definitely know they’re loved. They may even err toward the other extreme…spoiled. I just lost track of time going back through pictures and being surprised at how beautiful they both are. Seriously, this is one gorgeous newborn.
Even just a few months ago, I was worried that Rosie wasn’t happy with her lot in life. I was terrified that, already, she’d decided that we wouldn’t have that awesome mother-daughter relationship.
Thankfully, she changed her mind again. I’m Mother of the Year in her eyes. Which is good, because she’s definitely Daughter of the Year in my eyes.
She’s adorable, arm rolls and all.
She still isn’t sitting up for more than a few seconds at a time, but who knows how long she’d be able to sit up if she was just content sitting. Instead, she’s either trying to stand up or she’s trying to twist around to make sure I’m still there. She LOVES standing. That’s her default stance.
She’s VOCAL. And yes, it’s a capitalized level of vocal. Sometimes I hear her from the other room and think she’s fussing, but no, she’s content, just hollering or squealing. Why? Well, why not? What’s she supposed to do, just sit there? Psh.
She loves her brother. A lot. She’s discovered that she can chase him in the walker. He’s less than thrilled about this development. She also chases the dogs. Poor dogs. Today she even grabbed Kingsley’s fur and turned him into a sled dog. It was so funny. To me. Not to Kingsley.
Rosalynn’s name continues to be butchered around here. She’s Rosie, Rosa, Little Bit, Wee (from Mitchell), and, most often from me lately, Roe. That’s right, mama’s too busy to devote more than one syllable to you, you poor second child.
She finds funny voices hilarious. Like, laughs-so-hard-she-can’t-catch-her-breath hilarious. I imagine she’s probably laughing so hard she’s peeing her pants. I can set her in the walker and get at least halfway through making dinner just by narrating my movements in various Sesame Street character voices. Now that I think about it, I think I’ve finally figured out why I always go to bed with a sore throat.
The second try with sweet potatoes went really well. Now she’s decided that breastmilk is just for nighttime and she needs solids throughout the day. Oh yeah, nighttime is party time for her. She wakes up about every two hours. I’m running on caffeine and sugar at this point.
We had a doctor’s appointment today, and they’re no longer worried about her growth. At all. While her weight is just at 50th percentile, she’s jumped to 67th percentile in height. That’s completely opposite of what I figured it’d be. Seriously, how many rolls must bigger babies have?!
Unfortunately, after she fell asleep, her legs stiffened up and now she’s decided she can’t be moved or bothered. It’s rather pathetic. I wish I was an anti-vaccination person.
So, until she starts to feel better, this is her 6 month picture.
I just can’t believe how awesome this baby is. She’s gorgeous. She’s hilarious. She’s cute. She’s giggly. I can’t imagine our lives without her. I can’t wait to see what the next six months bring.