My sweet baby is six-months-old today. And the past month has been insane. Insane, because Emerson has become a completely different child, and is no longer a “little baby” that we can plop down where ever we please and expect her and/or her surroundings to remain safe. And insane, because this has been the most taxing month (on mama) of all six months that Em-to-the-er-to-the-son has been alive. For real. I cannot count the number of times I’ve felt myself slipping toward the edge of insanity/delirium.

Emerson started sitting up at four-months, earlier than I expected, and decided at five-months to get up on all fours and go crazy (also much earlier than I expected). I was emailing with my aunt about Emerson the day it all began, and my aunt was telling me how my cousin started pulling herself up and crawling at five-months-old. When I read that, I had a feeling in my gut this was about to happen to me. Sure enough, that afternoon, Emerson got up on all fours and started rocking back and forth. What the? And she started pulling herself up (still not a pro at this, but can do it). Not to mention her curiosity has multiplied enormously. Also, she’s started escaping from her bouncy seat (just turn to the side, push off with legs, and you are free from the harness….although, you will end up head first on the floor, but that’s okay).

All of which means our house is a disaster and mama is exhausted.

It’s amazing what an impact such a small person can have on a house. Every room she enters is left a little bit destroyed. For example, this is how the dinning room looked by the time we finished dinner last night:

• All napkins on the ground
• Place mats missing
• Table runner balled up and thrown to the side
• Nine toys littering the floor
• Hurricane vase centerpiece removed from the table after Emerson mistook it for a giant glass and tried to drink from it
• Three piles of tissue paper crumpled up and half-eaten after Emerson removed them from a box that came in the mail
• Baby shoes and sweatshirt discarded on table (by Emerson)
• You get the point, etc. etc.

Most frustrating to everyone in the household right now is the fact that Emerson can only take a few steps forward or backward crawling. Emerson yells and cries as she practices and will. not. sleep. Because she’s too obsessed with moving her body. Which means, mama isn’t sleeping. Yes, I am more sleep deprived now than I ever was when Em was a newborn. My baby was born a good sleeper, but oh, how things have changed! The past month has been one long fight to get Emerson to go to sleep, night and day.

I tried to reintroduce a little bit of coffee into my system (which means into my breast milk) to deal with the new state of affairs and girlfriend FLIPPED out. So, I’m apparently going to remain uncaffeinated for quite a while. And other than the ten months that I was pregnant, I have never been able to take naps during the day no matter how exhausted. I just lie there and never fall asleep, then end up more exhausted than before. It’s absolutely maddening. So, I’m surviving all of this with no crutches, just brut strength (and a lot of homemade baked goods).

But, I love you, dear Emerson Winter. Even when I am empty and depleted, I will find some scrap of something special to give to you. I will give until I can give no more….and then, I will take a twenty-minute break….and give some more. I have one pair of old corduroy pants and a pair of yoga pants with a hole on the left butt cheek, to my name. My two closets full of rows and rows, piles and piles, of expensive clothes from my former life, will never fit me again. Because I gave my body to you, as well. I birthed you through these hips. And while I may miss the wardrobe a tad, I do not miss those old hips, because they could not birth a baby. And so, I wear the same two pair of tattered pants, both of which always seem to be dirty because I cannot afford to put them in the wash and be without, over and over. Because, I want you to have clothes first. I want you to have everything I have to give even when I am dizzy with frustration because you won’t stop fussing and not sleeping and needing and and and. So, when you see me turn my back to you, stomp the floor and let out one loud, unintelligible noise, don’t worry. Because, I am going to turn back around, pick you up, and tell you that you’re doing a great job, that I am proud of you, that you should be patient with yourself, that you will crawl all the way across the room soon and it will be amazing.