Tuesday, August 13th, 2019
I am close.
I can feel it.
Months of lying helpless on my back like a sad turtle slowly morph into months of rolling from back to tummy–only to be stuck in that position like a sad whale. After months of a rigorous exercise routine (my favorites being superman, happy baby, and upward dog), my body is prepared. My mind is clear. My focus is narrowed to just one thing:
I am so close. I can get one knee under myself. Sometimes, I get both knees. I stretch my arms in front of me. I grasp the threads of the carpet with my fingers. I rock left and right on my haunches, willing my legs to move forward.
To my utter frustration, I have accidentally learned how to move backward. O cruel fortune! This is not the path to the blue cube or the jangly horse or Mr. Cuddles. How my body betrays me.
I do not understand the mechanics of it. I thrust my arms down at great speed and as a result, find myself an inch or two scooted in the wrong direction. There must be a way to progress forward. There must!
Jayce seems to have set aside thoughts of forward motion in favor of lateral. He is discovering the joys of repeated rolls. He does not turn them quickly as of yet, but he can cover lateral geographical distance when he puts his mind to it. One night this week, Mom fairly chased him around the nursery with his pajamas in hand.
That’s what we think of your dim lights and soothing piano music, Mother!
I delight in my expanding culinary experiences. The spoon brings wonderful things to my palate. Sweet potatoes are my favorite. Carrots and zucchini are new this week. I quite like both. I was not sure of the peas at first, but we have come to terms. I have no special remarks about green beans or acorn squash.
The spoon fascinates me. I am quite good at getting it to my mouth. Mom must disagree because she only lets me drive the spoon if she has time to clean me up. To date, my record is sweet potato in my hair, on the wall behind me, in my eye, and on Mom’s pants.
Jayce–poor fellow–does not understand the spoon brings food. I believe he is under the impression Mom is trying to poison him. At least, that is my conclusion based on his behavior. Sweet potatoes are less offensive to him now, but heaven help us on a day Mom is introducing a new vegetable.
After the fourth or fifth day of introduction, he resigns himself to the taste. Really, I don’t see what’s so bad about it.
Today, we are seven months and twenty days old. Jayce visited his liver specialist and was informed his liver continues to look and function normally. He has one final safety check in six months before he is done with the specialist permanently.
Later this week, he visits a developmental therapist. He has come a long way from our three month evaluation. He smiles at everyone now. Although the parentals are glad of this change, in my view this only proves he is an amateur.
You do not freely give away smiles. Caregivers must earn them. True, I smile frequently but it is only because I have made my expectations clear and the staff does a decent job meeting them most of the time. I shall speak to him about boundaries.
Overall, we are quite well. I am eager to continue my crawling practice until actual movement is achieved. Jayce will probably be a month or so behind me. It is for the best. By the time he begins to move, I will have pointed out to Mom all the dangerous things that should not be on his level.
The mantel of older sister is a heavy one, but I shall bear it.