Myra is 8 months

 Oh Mooie! You squish-mallow.  You still need to be held so you can breath deep against my chest. It feels reminiscent of a sleepy newborn. But you are not so new and you are not so sleepy.  You are rolly and soft, and playful. You like to stand with assistance and your learning how to sit really well. You explore toys for a time then, like a weary traveler, you return to what feels familiar. Our chest to chest embrace is a reprieve from all the new. 

As your body sinks fully into mine, you fiddle with the necklace your Dad bought me.  It was a replacement to the one you broke while nursing on that hay bale. We were rushed and cold on a fall field trip. I had one eye on your brother, as he pelted his Preschool peers with corn, and the other on your silly hands, trying to flash all the other parents.  I almost didn't notice the necklace tumble into the straw. 

I kept the chain the same, but changed the jewel. A new color to represent the change you brought to my life.   I don't love the new color much, but I liked the intentionality of it so much that I've tried to love the change.  I'm slow to accept new things. As it seems are you, as you stalwartly refuse to roll from tummy to back. 

You have started pushing your Dad away in angry protest when he tries to hug me with you in my arms. Your Aunt Lauren was quick to come to your defense. 'Myra had to fight so hard to get to you, she wasn't going to let go without a fight.'  Oh darling how you fight. Often all through the night, and all the day long.  Loudly you protest and call out 'Mama mama mama' in endless strings when your Dad patiently walks you back and forth in the halls as I try to rest. 

You are happy and express it so freely.  You smile constantly.  You coo and squeal at others. You light up when your siblings enter the room. You talk endlessly as we feed you. Though you still don't have teeth you demand any and all the food. Recently, also finding it to be a great injustice if we don't let you feed yourself. 

You are especially tickled by an old baby doll that's gone the rounds in our family. It's worn and ragged, but you kiss it and clench your whole body in excitement to see it. I imagine you'd like to squeal but it's all just too exciting that no sound can escape.  

You spend your bath times franticly trying to grab anything you can (recently you found a hidden candle, still hot with liquid wax, and that was sad for all of us).  You give high fives, and dance to the chorus of Ice Ice Baby.  A wholesome upbringing.

You are tender and social, soft and fiery.  You are our Mooie and so precious to us all.  Indie loves nothing more than to race to your crib and get you from naps.  Stella and Finn love to make you laugh and are distressed when you are sad. Daddy loves your silly side, and I love our snuggles. But really in the end, we are all falling in love with every bit of you.  Happy 8 month Myra.