Eight months

Judah is 8 months old this week.

As you can see, our little photo shoot was not easy this month. Actually, I’m lucky we were able to keep him in the chair.

Don’t freak out. You can’t see him, but Tony was spotting him in case he decided to dive. He didn’t, thankfully.

Judah’s physical development exploded this month. At the beginning of the month, we were impressed with his crude army crawl. In the span of just a few weeks, he mastered the cross crawl, started sitting up confidently, and then shocked us when he went ahead and stood up. Now when we hold his hands, he’ll even take a few steps if he’s feeling motivated. I see walking in the very near future, which blows my mind. He was only 7 and a half months old the first time he stood.

We’ve taken some major steps backward in the sleep department, mostly because he cut two teeth back to back. I suspect another one is about to break through any day now. He’s waking every couple hours just like he did when he was newborn — only now he doesn’t sleep all day, and I spend most of my day chasing him.

When I was pregnant, everyone told me how hard the first few months would be. They told me I’d be tired, and caring for him would be challenging. After I survived those first few months pretty easily, I thought I was home free. And then he started crawling.

Caring for a mobile baby is a million times more challenging and exhausting than caring for a newborn who spends his days sleeping. Add sleepless nights from stuffy noses and teething, and I’ve probably only clocked about 5 hours of sleep this month total. It gets easier soon, right?

The bright side is that naps have become infinitely easier. Now that he’s moving so much, he tires out during the day. He’s happily taking two naps a day in his crib, which gives me a couple hours to get things done. This is a huge step for us considering the fact that when he was about 4 months old I feared I’d be living in the dorm with him at college because he wouldn’t be able to sleep on his own.

His personality has come alive along with his motor skills, and playtime has become a lot more fun for all of us. Tony’s grandma has spoiled Judah rotten with a million toys she found at yard sales this summer. His favorites are the ones that we can stack and let him knock over. He also likes buttons and lights and music.

But I suspect his favorite games will always involve Mom and Dad making fools of themselves to get a laugh. That never seems to get old.

Now that he’s grown past the newborn stage where all of his clothing is covered in cute little duckies and bunnies, Tony and I have been immensely entertained by what he wears. It seems ironic t-shirts are plentiful in size 6-12 months, and we’ve had a blast dressing him like a tiny little hipster.

The one on top says, “I still live with my parents.” I will be sad when he outgrows it, because it never gets old. I chuckle every. time.

I was so over the moon in those early months that parenthood seemed to be a breeze. As long as I kept him fed and dry, everything was easy. Now that he’s developing a will of his own, things are getting harder. While I’d love to give him everything he wants, I can’t let him chew on electrical cords or crawl around in the backseat of the car out of his car seat. I know these seem like reasonable restrictions for a baby, but you can’t tell him that. He acts like I’m torturing him every time I have to tell him no.

He seems to have a radar for anything potentially dangerous or breakable, and that’s always where he gravitates. He is absolutely fearless, which is perfect, because Tony and I are constantly terrified. He thinks our worrying is pretty funny.

I’m exhausted at the end of the day, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Judah is going to sleep. No matter how tired, sick, or crabby I am, he still needs me. Some days it’s harder than others to be constantly on duty, but he’s taught me how to suck it up and keep on going, no matter how exhausted I am.

The good news is, babies seem to know how challenging they can be. Maybe not consciously, but he seems to know exactly the right moment to look up and giggle or quietly lay his head on my shoulder. He’s found his own ways of saying that he loves me, he needs me, and he appreciates what I do for him, and he knows exactly when I need to hear it.

As he gets older, the challenges may be greater, but so are the rewards. So I guess we’re even.