You are eight months old. You love peas mixed with carrots. Rice mashed with lentils. And you can crawl. You can crawl with the best of them and go from scooting to pausing and sitting up. But my favorite moment this month?
You call me mama.
Not the dishwasher. Or the car seat. Or the melt-in-your-mouth organic cheerio-like substances. Me. You look at me. You call me mama. You army crawl from across the room, a smile on your face and calling me mama in all its myriad forms, emphasizing a vowel, then a consonant, but each iteration melts my heart. Each and every time. When you smile a huge toothless grin at me and beckon me, I'm fairly certain you could ask me to drive you to the west coast for an ice cream cone and back if you could only ask.
This month was also your first ride in the shopping cart at the grocery store. Normally I Ergo you while your brother sits in the cart and we can spend many a happy hour or three this way, but your brother was in school, and since you sit up so beautifully, I thought it was worth a shot [though the Ergo was in the cart too, just incase]. At first you looked about in shock, and then at me, with raised eyebrows as if surely I had made an error, but then, when you realized this was the real deal, your smile reached ear to ear. Joy. Pure joy at a shopping cart ride. Pure joy at picking out the bath shampoo. Pure joy at well, everything we happened to do while you sat in that shopping cart. I love seeing things from your point of view. I love how you teach me to see the world anew. And what a beautiful world it is.
This was also your first Eid. We put you in salwar kamiz, the sleeve of which you found deliciously appetizing.
You opened gifts. And we tried to keep you from eating the gift wrap.
And we tried our best to give you boys the best Eid we possibly could. We saw friends, ate well, maybe too well, and while I know you will have no memory of this Eid, I hope it is the first of many beautiful traditions you will look back on with nostalgia for your childhood. I know it was a very special Eid for me because you were finally a part of it.
Musa, it's been eight months since you graced my life. It's been eight months of diaper changes, and feedings, and late night rockings and its been eight months for me to be graced by the beauty of your being. You are so loved my love. And no matter what comes your way in life, I pray that you are loved, that you love, and that the shade of my tiger-love for you will be a source of peace and comfort as you grow and bloom before my eyes. Happy Eight Month Birthday. I will love you forever as I love you today. Ameen.