The baby is seven months old now.

The baby is seven months old now. She is, in the words of my mother, glowingly beautiful from the tips of her toes to the bottom of her drooly double chin. She is plump but not fat, long, sandy blond and hazel eyed. She has a sweet little voice that is instantly recognizable as a baby girl's. She is docile and attentive until very tired or hungry. Strangers ask me if she's always this quiet. She just watches the world from Mama's carrier or her stroller. She talks to anyone who enters her zone but just watches the world the rest of the time.

She sleeps mostly through the night with me in our bed. Her crib is attached to our bed with the side removed. In theory, she's in her crib for some of the night but she isn't. She's snuggled in my armpit. 

She nurses every two to three hours. My pediatrician, who I don't like, tells me to stretch it out. I ask why and he gives me circular answers without facts. It boils down to being easier on the mom if the baby goes longer and I balk at that. I just ignore him, as I do with all his other parenting advice. I listen for medical advice and ignore the rest. 

She eats food now. Lots of different things. She didn't care for purees at all and pushed them out of her mouth on every bite. When I started giving her things to chew on, she immediately started eating. Broccoli spears get mowed down quickly. Lightly steamed carrots get chippered. Sweet potato sticks get gummed til they're nothing. The only things I can feed her on a utensil are the things she really likes, avocado and meat. That's my girl!