Wanna try for seven?

And now- An Open Letter To My Daughter, Currently Crawling On My Lap and Chewing On My Hoodie:

Dear Nora Jane,

Happy six months! We [you] did it! In honor of this momentous occasion, I'd like to point out a few key things that you've done to make us better people/grownups/housecleaners.

1) Since I found out about "you," and since the date of your arrival, all of my fears and nervous energies and unfocused creativities have channeled themselves into a new superpower. It's called The Ability To Write On A Deadline. (I was surprised, too.) At a period in my life when I've never had less alone time, I've suddenly never needed to write more. This is awesome.

2) Your Dad and I never quite knew just how filthy of an abode we kept. We sure do now! The squalor in which we dwelled (and with which we were fine, thankyouverymuch), suddenly is NOT COOL FOR THE BABY. Plates on the counter? Ants are gonna come and crawl all over THE BABY! Now we douse everything with industrial-strength Lysol, which- OH MY GOD, WE HAFTA USE BETTER PRODUCTS, WE'RE KILLING NORA'S PLANET! So- cleaner and way more neurotic. I'm still gonna call these "plusses."

3) And that guy I married? You know, your Wonder Twin to whom you gurgle "Hi?" Before you came along, I'm pretty sure he wasn't as adept at changing diapers (with or without "girl parts") in the middle of the night, nor was he so cheerful at 4am. Trust me, sister. You skipped into this world and tangled his thumb right around you. I'm not jealous so much as impressed. Also- singing and crawling around the kitchen floor before dinner? That was not part of his nightly routine. Not every night, anyhow.

4) Before you became the MiniMe strapped to my hip, I never realized my capacity for violence. I was a bit of a pacifist and had more than a little fear of confrontation. However, I almost ripped a woman's face off for poking you. Sure, abject brutality is rarely a 'pro,' but I'm kinda proud of my emerging Mama Bear instincts. (My coffee mug says so.) While never shy, I'm certainly done with politesse- at least where you're concerned. Maybe this will manifest itself in my next telemarketer convo! Although probably not.

5) Ironically, now that I have zippola "down time," I've never napped more. At least once a week, you'll scream like a banshee, become incredibly "difficult," and I'll crawl into bed with you to "calm you down, just for a minute." Then we'll sleep for three hours and it won't matter a bit about dishes, laundry, dinner, projects or whatever the heck it was that was making me [you] crazy. Well played, Bitsy.

6) Multitasking has become less of a concept and more of a synonym for "the day." Nannying with you in tow has made me quicker on the uptake. And the downtake. Which is a synonym for "catching things one-handed."

7) You've made your parents a better couple. I know, this shocked me as well. I already thought we worked pretty well as a team. But being shipwrecked together and/or the art of trust falls aside- few things bond people like holding a person who is equal parts Me and equal parts Him. Also in that bondy mix- Look At This Milestone/Good God, What's That Smell/Quick, Get Me A Towel/High Five!

8) And finally...I get my mother. And hers. And Peej's. And our sisters. And our friends with kiddos. Prior to you, doll, I had all sorts of Thoughts about Motherhood. And how everything people did was Different Than How I'd Do It. And now I get it- in that I don't get it at all. But I get what it is that I'm supposed to "get." And I can't explain it any further to you, Nora. For you do not yet (to the best of my knowledge) have children. And someday, if you have children, you'll kinda sorta understand me and the bizarre things I do. I hope. But for now, it's totally your job to look at me and wonder why I'm so ridiculous and angsty and pushing these weird wooden toys on you.

It's because I love you.

And am trying to be a Good Mom.

And, besides, the wooden toys are good for your brain.