Being a parent is such a strange thing. It feels like once you start to get a handle on things, a new challenge is thrown into the mix. Leo might suddenly decide to start queuing that he's tired in a completely new fashion and it takes a week to figure out why in the heck he's so fussy every. single. evening. He's also developing new skills and tendencies by the day (i.e. the classic drop things from the high chair game). It keeps you on your toes, to say the least.
Another new development is the introduction of (semi) solids. Peas are the favorite so far. If I had to choose one parental task that I like the least, it'd have to be this. Oh my gosh, it's gross! When feeding an infant, not only do you have a slimy, sticky baby, but you end up with spit up that has color to it. Which makes it waaaaay more like vomit than spit up. Don't get me started on what it's like when it comes out the other end of him. I'm going to have to beef up my gag reflex.
I might have mentioned when Leo was a newborn that he flailed a lot. That has not changed in the least. In fact, it's gotten worse. If he's excited about something (he sees dad, time to eat, someone ruffled a plastic bag), his entire body shakes and all extremities go flying. He's usually only content when you are holding him around the waist and he's standing, so the flailing is extra challenging. It's a good thing I spend so much time lifting weights. Otherwise, I'm convinced there's no way I could contain him.
It's taken about six months, but I finally feel like we're getting into the swing of things, and are no longer in survival mode. I know that I can handle a poopy diaper in a public bathroom, can calm him down with a simple belly rub, and can leave him home alone with the Hubbs without him completely melting down without me. We're tentatively patting ourselves on the backs, and looking forward to what the second half of Leo's first year holds!