My dearest, loving, baby boy,
A few days ago, I sang to you what I could remember of the Lennon song “Beautiful Boy.” You smiled. You giggled. My singing did not, for once, scare you. I know, it’s comically bad. Someday? You will mock me the way I mocked my own mother. Payback, is indeed, a … well, that’s not for your ears or eyes.
Today, my son, my beautiful, amazing, glorious, wonderful son, you are twelve weeks old. In five days, you will be one fiscal quarter of age. Every moment of my day is filled with you. You are the air I breathe. You are the light that guides my days. You are the rain on my parade when you scream, nonstop, for no real reason. A few weeks ago, during one of these fits, I turned to you and said, “Don’t be such a baby!” Then I realized, umm, you are a baby. It is so difficult for me to remember sometimes how young you are. I feel as though in some ways my life started with you and that I have been around only as long as you.
You can hold up your head on your own.
Unless you’re half asleep, in the middle of the night, falling asleep on your bottle. Then? I forget that you don’t want to or can’t hold your head up. When I go to burp you, your head flops forward. You have nailed your head on my wrist more times than I can count. Insanity, they say, is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. For me? It’s sleep deprivation.
You were sleeping beautifully, up until this week. Then? You started waking up every five hours or less. Mommy will always, no matter what, love you. However, she likes you an awful lot more when you sleep more. I promise, I will always come to you when you need me. If you could choose to need me after I’ve gotten more sleep? I’ll come faster because I’ll be able to wake up better. I cross my heart and kiss my elbow.
You have rolled over, but it seems you only do it when you want to do it. You lie on your back and talk to the toys that hang from the arches over your mat. You get angry with Mr. Pineapple when he doesn’t talk back to you.
Someday you will understand that, well, he’s actually an inanimate object. At least, I hope someday you realize that. You love being in the big swing and having me kiss your toes when you swing close to me. You also seem to enjoy kicking me in the face and punching me in the nose. I hope that these trends do not continue.
You giggle and smile in response to me now. If you’re starting to get into a fit, there are times when I can work you out of it simply by smiling at you. You have also decided that you want to take your bottles in repose position in your carseat swing. While I understand that both of these are potentially sweet? They are also making me wonder if my face will freeze in the ghoulish over-exagerated smile while I slowly become a hunchback from leaning over your swing. However, I know that the more you eat, the stronger and bigger you will be someday. My physical beauty, or lackthereof, is decidedly less important. Until I scare your friends when you’re a toddler. Then you’ll be sorry when they won’t come to your house to play. Think about that carefully before continuing in this vein.
You recognize me now. You track me when you hear my voice. You follow my every move. Today, when you were on your play mat and I took a moment to sit in my chair next to it, you arched your back and leaned on your head to look behind you to find me. It was super cute, minus my fear that you would break your neck. Still, it was super cute. However, you need to learn that your daddy loves you. He loves to hold you and kiss you. He loves to tickle you and play with you. Also? He loves to feed you. You need to trust your daddy to take care of you. He can feed you just fine. At night when he gives you your bottle? Please drink it. You make him feel bad when you don’t seem to trust him. Also, you make me more tired. I’m a lot more fun of a mommy when I’m not so tired I think about sitting on the tub floor to take my shower because standing up seems like too much of an effort. Believe me, I’m a WAY nice person, when you let daddy take some time with you and let me relax for ten minutes. I’m not even asking for hours. Just minutes. Really.
Your daddy is the very best daddy. Watching him with you makes me fall in love with him all over again. Some day, you will play catch with him and not want me around. Someday, I will be unnecessary to your happiness. I fear that day because it will break my heart. I also look forward to that day because I know that you will love your daddy and want to be just like him. I know that you will grow up to be an amazing man like him, the kind of man that any woman would be proud to call her son. You will be loving and generous and kind and thoughtful. You will grow up to be the best of your daddy and I. I can’t wait to see that day, yet I despair that day because it means you will not need me or want me anymore. I hope that you will always be confident to tell both of us that you love us. I hope that we will be able to instill in you a lack of fear of your emotions. I hope that someday you will call to say hello and, when you say good-bye, sign off with, “I love you mom.”
You love your puppies. You smile at them and look for them.
You let them kiss you and walk around you when you’re playing on the floor.
They love you, too. They don’t mind when you touch them. Max doesn’t mind when you kick him or punch him in the face. Then again, since he doesn’t seem to understand that those actions are a sign of displeasure? He probably deserves what he gets. You giggle when you touch them. You jump when you hear a certain bark. You know the difference between the “bark at nothing” bark and the “bark because daddy is home” bark. You ignore the first one but wake up for the second. You are a smart baby.
You are growing into a little man. You are not the little human blob anymore. You are rapidly gaining a personality. You are independent. You love making the lights work on your bouncy chair but get mad when it goes continuously and isn’t of your own doing. You love trying to “walk” across the house but hate when you have to sit still. You love making the toys on your mat jingle and move but hate when you can’t figure out how to do it or when you’re just to small to make something work. You tell us what you want by screaming your face off when you don’t like something, and you tell us what you like by giggling with your daddy’s full bellied joyous laugh.
You discovered Elmo this week, thanks to teh internetz. You loved Elmo’s Song. You watched it and giggled. You danced on my lap. You calmed down during “cranky time”, that hour before bed when you’re tired and getting hungry but we’re not quite ready for you to sleep. Let’s face it, if you sleep at 6:30pm? You’re going to be up at 4am. Really? That’s the middle of the night. Mommy loves you, but there are some things that are always unacceptable. Waking up at 4am falls into the “always unacceptable” category. Sorry kiddo. I also figured out that you love Elmo because Elmo sounds like mommy. While that is super cute, I can’t lie – it’s also super depressing. Mommy is not a muppet. Although, I could probably make a fortune dressing up in a hollowed out giant stuffed Elmo (yes, I’m that tiny…sort of) at kids’ parties. I’m glad you love me. Try not to love Elmo because he reminds you of me. That is kind of depressing.
I love you little man. I love you with every breath in my body. Mothering you is a contradiction. I want to be the very best mommy, but I do not want to only be a mommy. I look forward to your waking up in the morning, but I look forward to when you go to bed at night. I look forward to when you go to bed at night, but, an hour later, I find myself blogging about you and looking at your videos and your photos and waiting for the morning when I get to see your little gummy smile again. I look forward to date nights, alone, with your daddy, but I end up talking mostly about you. I want to sleep through the night, but I also love seeing you in the middle of the night to feed you and have you snuggle me. I want you to be an independent little man, but I want to hold you tight and never let you go. I want you to sleep in your crib and self-soothe, but I want to take “snuggle naps” together on the couch because I love feeling the weight of you on top of me and your warmth against my body.
You, my beautiful boy, are everything that makes my life complete. I cannot imagine my life without you. I cannot imagine that I feared your coming. I cannot imagine, beautiful boy, the person I was before you. You, my beautiful boy, are the alpha and the omega of my life, and yes, someday I will tell you what those words mean. You, my beautiful boy, are the best parts of your daddy and mommy. You, my beautiful boy, are the most amazing person I know (ok, along with your daddy). You, my beautiful boy, are my special love, myself, my best me. You, my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy make me the very best me that I can be. I will never be able to thank you enough for that.
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