Time is flowing away from me in a swift stream. Olivia is five months old today. Five months.
As I type, she is playing on her gym, pulling hard on the blue feet of the stuffed lion above her head. She can pull it off now on occasion, and it ends up--as does everything else--crammed in her gummy mouth, her small face a study in primal satisfaction.
She has become a very different person from the unhappy newborn who rarely slept. She loves to laugh--big, crinkle-eyed laughs. Today, she spent an hour jumping on my lap, grinning at me. She is generally calm, especially when Jeff and I are both with her. For about six weeks, she even let us sleep for a solid five hours each night, though she seems to have hit some sort of growth spurt in the last two weeks and wakes up to feed once or twice.
She propels herself in inches and feet now, half-bridges taking her wherever she is inclined to go. At the same time, she seems to have forgotten how to turn over from her belly to her back, flailing about like a flipped-over turtle when her energetic rolling leaves her with some unwanted tummy time.
Today, she surprised me as I was taking off her shirt, sitting up for a long five minutes as I ciricled my arms in the air around her, fearful of her toppling over and hitting her head on the the rail of her changing table. She seemed so pleased with herself.
I don't seem to be able to write much anymore; the current is moving so quickly and I can't find the energy to swim upstream. But I want to capture this moment. I have to remember this.