Dear Juniper - 8 Months

Dear Juniper,

You are, this very minute, 8 months old.


We still call you a baby - "the baby", "that baby", "will this baby ever be quiet?!?" - but at this point we're just trying to convince ourselves. You're getting bigger, more mobile, and more independent all the time. In the last few weeks, you've started playing by yourself a lot more, and babbling to yourself as you do it. I love listening to your babble, filled with more and more consonant sounds as you learn to make new shapes with your tongue. I can't wait until you can talk to us; I always wonder what you're thinking, how you're feeling. It feels like you'll start any day now. In the meantime, you yell and shriek, shout and cry, and sometimes crawl around with your lips sucked in humming 'mmmm, mmmmm'. 

This month, you've decided that you don't like going to sleep. Each night I put you in the carrier and walk you around the hallway while your mother has her shower. I then slowly sneak into the bedroom and rock you for another fifteen minutes or so, then gently drop you into bed next mummy. You feed for another ten minutes, and about half the time you wake up again and Zoe has to rock you back to sleep again. Sometimes, you like to wake up at 2am and crawl around babbling and shouting to us. We call this "party time". When party time comes along, I oscillate between amusement and tired frustration. Even at 2am, your conversation is delightful!

It's starting to get cold in Canberra, and you and I are experiencing our first real winter together (your Mumma is made of tougher stuff, having grown up in chilly western Victoria). Wrapping you up warm enough is becoming more of a challenge, particularly as being dressed and undressed is one of your principal dislikes. You can be the happiest, smiliest baby in the world, but the moment we try to slip one of your limbs into or out of an item of clothing, you act like you've been pricked with a pin. Here's hoping you grow out of that one soon.

You are the light of our lives, the centre of our little family and our world. Our chief delight is watching you grow into yourself, physically and mentally, more and more as the weeks go by. When I come home from work, I'm always eager to hear about your day's exploits. I'm convinced that by the time the next one of these letters is written, you'll have taken your first steps (you're already a proficient furniture-cruiser). Then, we'll really regret moving into a home with stairs.

With love,
Daddy.

Dear Juniper - 7 Months.

Dear Juniper,

You are, right this minute, 7 months old. I know, I don't believe it either!

You continue to be sunshine and rainbows and flowers and joy. Except when you're not. Except when you want something and it doesn't come quick enough. Except when you've had enough of your high chair. Except when you don't want to go to sleep. Except when you fall and hurt yourself, which seems to happen with frightening regularity as you expect your body to perform beyond its abilities. Except for those times, you're pure sunshine.

I can't say that I mind very much that you can be demanding and cranky at times, because do you know what I know to be true? It's the demanding and cranky women who will change the world. You'll demand your equality, and you'll let the world know if you don't get it. You're a spunky little thing, you're feisty and strong, and I love it.

Your strength and physical abilities are really quite impressive. I try not to be *that* mum, going on about what my kid can do, because the truth is whether you walk at 9 months or 18 months, no one will know the difference when you're 5. But, well, you're a little bit clever. In the week after 6 months, you started to pull yourself up to stand against the furniture. It was such an effort, you'd grunt and strain, and pow! Standing! Within a week you could manage that with no worries at all. Last week you started standing up alone. Not by letting go of the furniture, but by just popping straight up in the air. Your legs wide, almost as wide as your grin. Your record for standing is about 15 seconds, after which time you plop back down on your nicely-padded bum.

You don't like sleep very much. Or more to the point, you like milk a lot. You're fed on demand, and you demand often. I don't mind the frequent feeding, I know it's why you're so big and strong. The 3am party times wear a but thin though; you're quite sure that it's a great time for cuddles and bouncing and fun. Your mum and dad, sleeping on either side of you, are not. Your joy is infectious though, and before long your daddy and I are stifling giggles. 

Oh Juni, I can't believe the wonder you're becoming. I can't wait to watch the woman you will become.

Love, Mumma.

Dear Juniper - 6 Months

Dear Juniper,

You are, this very minute, 6 months old. That's half a year!

Your Uncle Alex, Granny, and Grandaddy are here for a visit this weekend. Uncle Alex pointed out that today you were as far from your birthplace as you've ever been. We looked at him, a little confused. In terms of the solar system, he explained. Oooh, of course, in terms of the solar system. But it's true, you're on the other side of the sun, half a lap, one of many laps around the sun. Even though in 6 months time you'll be back where you started, in terms of the solar system, there's no going back. You're zooming forward, growing and changing before our eyes. You have one little tooth now, it appeared this week after much drama and tears and sleepless nights. You've started on a few solids, some banana, cooled cucumber to gnaw on to sooth your gums, some beans, some carrot. Your favourite food is still your milkies, I hope it continues to be for many years.

You continue to amaze us, and everyone, with your tenacity and eagerness to be active, to get going and moving and running and jumping. Well, not quite running and jumping, but you are definitely on the move. Your crawling technique is flawless, you zoom across the floor after any cat who happens into your eye line. Luckily for them you're often distracted by something before you reach that tempting tail. Your latest trick is to try to stand up using a box. It's a file of our important documents. Somehow you found it one day and you're obsessed with it. You put both hands on it, hauling yourself up, feet firmly planted. Then up and down, up and down you go. It ends with a squeal, as you push up and fall down, with a plonk, on your nicely padded bottom. I tried to put the file away and you immediately started to try and climb the couch. I decided to give you the box back, it seeming less hazardous.

You are an intense little creature, constantly moving and squirming and crawling and pulling down books and banging on windows and chasing cats and pulling down my shirt, looking desperately for your milkies. The only time you're still is when I'm moving, which is why when it all gets a bit much for your Mumma, I strap you into our mei tai and get outside and moving. We live in an area with a lot of hills, and I'm really enjoying plodding up them. I'm a little slow, but we get there. You're still, taking it all in, twisting to see cars whizz by, gazing silently at people as they coo and try to get you to smile. I suppose because I've been carrying you since you were the size of this - . (a full stop) you don't feel heavy to me, despite you now being nearly 10kg. I stopped and talked to an older woman last week, she said how lovely it must be for both of us, to have you so close to me. It is lovely, I told her I'll carry you for as long as I can, she smiled and said that after that I'll still carry you in the same place, in my heart. That's just where you belong, my Juni.

I hope you enjoyed your half-birthday, surrounded by people who just adore you so. I've never seen your Grandaddy gaze at something with such affection. That's the power you have, you spread joy to everyone around you. Here's to another joyful month, my love.

Love, Mumma.