We have enjoyed you so much this month. I love when you lay back, draped across my lap with a full belly, tired for no reason, snoring away. Those momentary after-meal siestas are just about the sweetest part of my days lately. I love when you talk to yourself in the mirror. I love when you startle and your eyes get big and wide in response to the silly noises I make at you.
You are the master of blow-out diapers, projectile spit-up, and scooching across your crib. You’ve reached some big milestones this month. Your smiles flow freely and you have lots of different ones to choose from. You had your first bottle and your first road trip this month; they both went pretty well. You graduated to daily baths this month and they are your favorite thing in the world. You absolutely can’t be sad when you’re in the bath. You have learned to recognize faces and you flirt with absolutely everyone. Just in the last week you’ve discovered your hands and sometimes you catch a glimpse of your feet and look as if you’re wondering if they belong to you. They do.
We have been playing a lot of games this month. Your two favorites are looking at ourselves in the mirror and walking in and out of closets or turning lights on and off. You’ve discovered that voices do more than just crying, and you spend most of your awake time babbling with a slight Minnesota-Oh in your dialect, grabbing at your hands, and running your feet madly. You’re also strengthening your tummy muscles and trying to sit up by yourself. Patience, child. Speaking of getting ahead of yourself, you like to stand. And stand and stand and stand.
I generously gave you your first cold this month, and you took it in stride. You also developed a plugged tear duct and you are almost always goopy-eyed. It seems to be getting better slowly. And you had your first shots this month. That seemed to be OK except it was followed by a week of tummy aches and diaper disasters.
We visited Kansas to meet your Grandpa Powell and your Aunt Bethany and Uncle Chucky and your two cousins, Kodi and Jazmyn. And the dogs, of course. You handled it well and there were some very happy moments, like the dance party in the car on the north edge of Missouri. We’re raising you right: with appreciation for Jim Croce.
We decided it was time to teach you to sleep through the night this week and after three days of no progress you suddenly decided to cooperate and I cannot tell you how happy this has made your mother. You seem pretty happy about it, too, and you live for that first morning moment when you discover that a new day has arrived and we are still here to play with you.
Right now Dad & I are sleeping on the floor and couch in the living room of our tiny apartment so you can have the bedroom to yourself. We tried putting you out here on the floor but you scooched yourself all the way across the room and perfected your baby bald spot in just one short, unhappy night. Live and learn.
Your awake times are long and happy and busy and you’ve gotten so good at keeping yourself entertained when I’m busy. When you’re tired your eyelids get droopy and your hands go up by your face and rub your eyes or grab your ears. Sometimes you grab your eyes too. Smart kid. You go to bed for naps and night time happily and easily for the most part, but sometimes it’s not without a massive fuss because you still want to play. In a magical instant, though, you succumb and go from screaming to deep sleep. Babies are weird like that. Somehow in your sleep you manage to cover a lot of ground. It started with The Pivot: I’d find you at a 90 degree angle from where I’d put you, head up against the edge of the crib. Now it’s progressed to The Scooch, since you’ve gotten both legs involved. Nothing will keep you swaddled tight. You like your freedom.
I hope now that I’m getting more sleep I’ll start remembering things better. The only funny story from this month that I can think of happened just the other night. It’d been one of the worst days of motherhood yet for me, the day after our first attempt at getting you to sleep through the night. I was miserable physically and emotionally. Your dad took you from me after I fed you before bed and went to get you changed. I came in, teary-eyed, to kiss you goodnight and bent over your changing table. Just when my face was closest to yours, you spat up. There I was, red-eyed with spit-up dripping off my nose and lips. And there was your dad, laughing hysterically. I’m sure you were confused. By the way, in this house we like to refer to your burp rag as the cheese cloth.
We still hang out every Saturday with Auntie Laura, and you seem to love and trust her more than anyone else but Mommy & Daddy. I’m sure you’ll always be special to her, even if you don’t remember how special she was to you. The month ahead will be full of upheaval as we get our life uprooted and ready to re-plant in Indiana. In the middle of all the packing will be another happy week of visiting and your first plane ride. Time to go meet Grandpa Beisner and all the rest of your aunts and uncles. Your swim trunks are all ready and I’m excited to introduce you to the beach!
Thanks for filling my life with such noble things to do. Being your mommy is full of tedious work like mopping up spit-up and putting the pacifier back in your mouth for the hundredth time, but it is all so worthwhile because it’s part of this amazing job of growing a person. If I could make one request, it would be please don’t grow out of cuddling too early.
Baby Journal archived today: