Our baby in review: His Eighth Month

Baby Boy is EIGHT MONTHS OLD, people! I’m not much for math, but I do know that eight months is 3/4 of the way to twelve months (one yearrrrrr)! He is less than four months away from eating a hunk of birthday cake. My mind is blown.

Vital stats: Baby Boy hasn’t been “professionally” weighed since his six-month appointment (19 lbs). But we weighed him the other day at Mom’s house, and he was a solid 20.2 lbs. He gained weight fast and furious during those first three or four months, and then it really slowed down because his activity level went through the roof. I no longer get those shocked looks when I tell people his age, because I guess he finally looks appropriately-sized! I have to say, I miss those looks — it was fun.
Milestones: He’s still “cruising” (walking hanging onto furniture) like a madman. He’s standing completely unassisted a couple of times a day — seven seconds is his current record. He’s been getting in trouble a lot more, like grabbing things off shelves and trying to climb shelves. He climbs the step to the jacuzzi and then stands on it, peering down into the tub (supervised, natch). All this activity and daredevil behaviour means he’s been falling a LOT — and he has the bumps and bruises to prove it, poor thing.
Teeth: None! Seriously, NONE! Every day, people ask me, so I figured I would add this as a category. Babies younger than Baby Boy have teeth. But he doesn’t. Nope, no teeth. I’m not fixated or anything, though.
Speech: Nothing yet, except for still crying “Mamaaaaaa!” when he’s upset. He babbles a bit, but nothing is distinguishable yet.
Baby-proofing: He discovered the doorstops (and the fun sound they make when you grab them), and thanks to my helicopter-parenting I noticed him grab the tip off one (yes, that actually happens, just like the babyproofing websites warn). I snatched it from his chubby little hand, and removed all of the other tips before he knew what was happening.
What he’s been eating: Three meals a day, plus cereal at bedtime. Crazy! It’s a ton of work, getting him in the highchair, fed, and cleaned up FOUR times a day. Exclusive breastfeeding is great and all, but it really makes it hard to adjust to feedings becoming work. New foods this month were prunes, watermelon, oatmeal, scrambled egg yolks, cauliflower, corn, acorn squash and blueberries. New “secret” food tastes were Hickory Sticks, ice cream, and French fries. Shhh, don’t judge.
How we’ve been sleeping: Pretty consistently, Baby Boy was up three times a night during his eighth month. He went to bed at 8 p.m., and was typically up for feedings at 10:30 p.m., 2 a.m., and 5 a.m. He got up for the day between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m.
Diapering: I bemoaned last month that the cloth diapers were getting messy. Towards the end of this month, though, they started getting a bit more solid. Thank God! It’s much easier to — excuse the grossness — plop something into the toilet than it is to scrape something into the toilet. Why do I cloth diaper again? Oh right. The savings. And the adorableness.
Playing: I set up two “stations” in the living room (a.k.a. the place Baby Boy and I spend 90% of our lives). One station (“Toy Corner”) has his toy car, his activity table, his toy kitchen and his toy ark (a.k.a. all the loud, battery-powered stuff). The other station (a toy basket) is across the room, and contains his board books, rattles, balls, and stuffed toys. Baby Boy crawls/cruises back and forth between the two stations, and I LOVE to see him grab his board books and then sit on the floor to play with them. I pretend he’s reading them. Because I’m like that.
Things that surprised me: How he really seems to understand me — laugh at jokes, smile like he understands what I’m saying. He’s a person, and it’s like we’re buddies. Whenever I hold him in front of a mirror, and we look at our reflection, I always say, “It’s Mommy and Baby! We’re a perfect pair.” And yes, that is super-sappy, but we are. We’re a perfect pair.
Things that have made me melt: When I tuck him in at night and say prayers, and I realize — every single night — how much meaning is behind the words. When I sit at the kitchen counter eating a meal and chatting with him, and he sits next to me in his highchair (like a real person!). When he gets tired and crawls/cruises over to me and falls into my arms. When I pretend to “chase-crawl” after him, and he beams and pretends to get away, and then slows down so I can catch him. He’s just the best.

So what do you think?

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