Dear Bug,
You are so popular. I knew before you were born that you would be the VIP at all family events until you hit your "awkward" stage, but I didn't know how many little friends you would have! I think you probably have more friends than your Dad or I do. And you are so cute when you're with your friends - you just smile non-stop and do your deep belly laugh constantly.
First, there's Charlotte. Charlotte goes to daycare with you and is a little bit older than you are. She's got flaming red hair like Aunt Warnen. Eliana says that you always grab on to her arm or her pant leg, giggle and drool on her, and then push her away. You and I have had a discussion about how important it is to treat women with respect and to not use your brute force towards them in any way. You understand and have tried to play nicer with Charlotte. I always dress you in nice clothes for daycare because you want to look fly for Charlotte. But Dad says she's not so cute.
Your partner-in-crime is Tighe Carter. He's the only boy you're friends with, because you're more of a ladies' man. Because Tighe Carter is three months younger than you, you've tried to show him the ropes a little - like how to hold his head up or grab at Mommy's face. Aunt Lisa and I both know that you and Tighe Carter will be trolling for chicks before too long. Just make sure you both always remember that no woman will ever love you as much as your mommies!
Anna is another friend of yours. Uncle Mario brings Anna to our house sometimes, but she doesn't stay long before she starts crying. Twice she took toys away from you, and you screamed. She just stared at you. But whenever you first see Anna you get this huge smile on your face and start drooling like a hound dog. I talk for you and say things like, "Hey girl...you lookin' fine today, girl!" and help you rap to Anna. Uncle Mario doesn't like it. Daddy and I don't care. One time Anna was over when you had to go to bed. You had just fallen asleep and Uncle Mario went to use the bathroom and left Anna with Daddy. Well, she didn't like that. She started screaming bloody murder and woke you up. You were so scared and it took me a long time to calm you down. That's why Anna isn't allowed in our house after 6:30.
Finally, Sophia is your friend, even though you've never met her. She's your second cousin and lives in California. It's not illegal to marry your second cousin, but it's generally accepted as being weird. So don't fall in love with Sophia.
I love watching you interact with other babies - you are so precious and so sweet when they're around! Just like everything else you do, I'm absolutely amazed by your little social skills. I can't wait until you're old enough to join play groups and all that fun stuff. But in the meantime, I selfishly expose you to your little friends as much as I can so I can see that wonderful Buggie-grin!
I love you to the moon, and back!
Mommy
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Being Mommy
Dear Bug,
I never really wanted to be a mom. I used to baby-sit for other people's children, and would get frustrated when they cried or annoyed at their questions or bored with playing the same games over and over again. I didn't think I'd make a good mother because I really liked my alone time - reading, napping, going out whenever I wanted, traveling - all that fun stuff that child-less people do. And I thought that either I didn't want to sacrifice all that to have children, or that I would resent my children if I ended up sacrificing my "freedom" to become a mother. So, I would scrunch my nose up and say "ew" whenever anyone asked me when I'd be having a baby and thank God that I could go home and nap if I wanted to. But, that was before.
I don't remember when I decided that I wanted to have you, or what made me change my mind about being a mom. I'm sure I was just focused on the "fun" things about having a baby - snuggling and playing and dressing you in cute clothes - but I have too much respect for myself to admit that I didn't think at all about how hard it would be. But, whatever was going through my mind, one day I just KNEW it was time to have a baby. It was time to have you.
Being pregnant sucked most of the time, I'm not going to lie to you about that. In the beginning I was sick all the time. Then, I got fat and couldn't button or zipper my pants. Soon after I wasn't able to bend over to pick something up or to sit for long periods of time in the car. Your foot was in my ribs for the last three months you were in there, and that really hurt. Plus, I had the "pregnancy cold," so my nose was stuffy and runny for nine months. It wasn't pretty. Labor and delivery was okay, but it was uncomfortable and messy. And we'll discuss my issues with breastfeeding another time.
But you. My Bug. It's cliche to say, but the moment I saw you I fell instantly in love and knew that I would feel that way about you for the rest of my life. When you opened your eyes and looked at me for the first time I understood what it meant to be a mom. It meant that I now had someone in my life that I loved more than anything else - more than I had ever loved before or even imagined I could love. It meant that I would happily die for the little creature in my arms, and not begrudge him for it. It meant that my happiness and my heart was forever tethered to a little boy that grew inside my body, forced his way out, and that I now would watch grow into a man. It meant that my life was no longer about me anymore. It was about you.
My life with you is completely unrecognizable from the life I lived before you arrived. I do not stay up past ten at night, even on weekends. I hardly read for fun, I don't go to the movies, or to bars, or out with friends without bringing you along. I have no plans to travel, and I do nothing without plans. I do not nap nilly-willy anymore, but have to make sure your dad is around to care for you before I can fall asleep. I am without my "freedom," but I never thought I'd be so happy to be "unfree."
I hear you cry, and I do not get frustrated. I feel only compassion and an urge and need to make everything better for you. If I can't make you stop crying, I hold you and rock you so you know you're not alone. When you puke on me, I don't run to change my clothes right away. Being neat and well put-together isn't that important anymore for some reason. When you wake me in the middle of the night, I do not get upset. I go and get you and do whatever you need me to do to make you comfortable before you go back to sleep. I don't mind at all. In fact, I enjoy my time with you at 3 am because I see so little of you during the day. I don't get bored with watching you in your Jumperoo for the hundreth time, or picking up the toy that you drop over and over, or blowing raspberries on your belly every day just to hear you giggle. I love the routine. I love taking care of you, even though it means that sometimes I don't take care of myself.
And why do I feel this way? Saying it's because I love you isn't enough. It's because I'm your Mommy, which is something only other mommies can understand. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh mean more to me than anything has ever meant to me in my life. When you put your little arms around my neck to hug me, or get excited when you see me come into the room, or when you accomplish something like rolling over or sleeping through the night, or even when you make a giant load in your diaper - I finally understand what it means to truly feel happiness and unconditional love. It's a feeling and a whole new way of looking at the world that is so much better and more satisfying than the days when I was child-less and "free."
Being a Mommy is hard work. But being your Mommy is the best job in the world.
I love you to the moon...and back.
Mommy
I never really wanted to be a mom. I used to baby-sit for other people's children, and would get frustrated when they cried or annoyed at their questions or bored with playing the same games over and over again. I didn't think I'd make a good mother because I really liked my alone time - reading, napping, going out whenever I wanted, traveling - all that fun stuff that child-less people do. And I thought that either I didn't want to sacrifice all that to have children, or that I would resent my children if I ended up sacrificing my "freedom" to become a mother. So, I would scrunch my nose up and say "ew" whenever anyone asked me when I'd be having a baby and thank God that I could go home and nap if I wanted to. But, that was before.
I don't remember when I decided that I wanted to have you, or what made me change my mind about being a mom. I'm sure I was just focused on the "fun" things about having a baby - snuggling and playing and dressing you in cute clothes - but I have too much respect for myself to admit that I didn't think at all about how hard it would be. But, whatever was going through my mind, one day I just KNEW it was time to have a baby. It was time to have you.
Being pregnant sucked most of the time, I'm not going to lie to you about that. In the beginning I was sick all the time. Then, I got fat and couldn't button or zipper my pants. Soon after I wasn't able to bend over to pick something up or to sit for long periods of time in the car. Your foot was in my ribs for the last three months you were in there, and that really hurt. Plus, I had the "pregnancy cold," so my nose was stuffy and runny for nine months. It wasn't pretty. Labor and delivery was okay, but it was uncomfortable and messy. And we'll discuss my issues with breastfeeding another time.
But you. My Bug. It's cliche to say, but the moment I saw you I fell instantly in love and knew that I would feel that way about you for the rest of my life. When you opened your eyes and looked at me for the first time I understood what it meant to be a mom. It meant that I now had someone in my life that I loved more than anything else - more than I had ever loved before or even imagined I could love. It meant that I would happily die for the little creature in my arms, and not begrudge him for it. It meant that my happiness and my heart was forever tethered to a little boy that grew inside my body, forced his way out, and that I now would watch grow into a man. It meant that my life was no longer about me anymore. It was about you.
My life with you is completely unrecognizable from the life I lived before you arrived. I do not stay up past ten at night, even on weekends. I hardly read for fun, I don't go to the movies, or to bars, or out with friends without bringing you along. I have no plans to travel, and I do nothing without plans. I do not nap nilly-willy anymore, but have to make sure your dad is around to care for you before I can fall asleep. I am without my "freedom," but I never thought I'd be so happy to be "unfree."
I hear you cry, and I do not get frustrated. I feel only compassion and an urge and need to make everything better for you. If I can't make you stop crying, I hold you and rock you so you know you're not alone. When you puke on me, I don't run to change my clothes right away. Being neat and well put-together isn't that important anymore for some reason. When you wake me in the middle of the night, I do not get upset. I go and get you and do whatever you need me to do to make you comfortable before you go back to sleep. I don't mind at all. In fact, I enjoy my time with you at 3 am because I see so little of you during the day. I don't get bored with watching you in your Jumperoo for the hundreth time, or picking up the toy that you drop over and over, or blowing raspberries on your belly every day just to hear you giggle. I love the routine. I love taking care of you, even though it means that sometimes I don't take care of myself.
And why do I feel this way? Saying it's because I love you isn't enough. It's because I'm your Mommy, which is something only other mommies can understand. Seeing your smile and hearing your laugh mean more to me than anything has ever meant to me in my life. When you put your little arms around my neck to hug me, or get excited when you see me come into the room, or when you accomplish something like rolling over or sleeping through the night, or even when you make a giant load in your diaper - I finally understand what it means to truly feel happiness and unconditional love. It's a feeling and a whole new way of looking at the world that is so much better and more satisfying than the days when I was child-less and "free."
Being a Mommy is hard work. But being your Mommy is the best job in the world.
I love you to the moon...and back.
Mommy
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The One They Call "Bug"
Dear Bug,
You're growing up too fast. Sunday was your six month "birthday," and I was amazed - as always - at how quickly time has passed. I want to start writing to you every so often to force myself to slow down and appreciate who you are right now, instead of getting caught up in all my plans for your future. I want to stop and really think about you when the days seem to fly by and when I'm stuck at an office away from you. And maybe you'll like reading about these times when you grow up - to get a sense of what you were as a baby, and how your Mother and Father loved you and worked so hard to learn how to show you that.
Six months! Right now you try so hard to sit up, but you're not strong enough yet, so you topple over to one side before long. You lean forward a lot, and you look kind of weird - all folded up - when you sit. But you absolutely refuse to play on your back now, because you believe you're a sitter, even though your core muscles don't quite agree. So, Mommy or Daddy have to sit behind you and support you while you play. Grandma also bought you a Bumbo seat, which you love, and that helps you to sit upright. But you have to reach down to grab your toys off the floor, and you hate that. After a few minutes in the Bumbo you just grunt and slobber, so we take you out.
You can roll over from back to front, but you don't do it very often for some reason. I think it's because you don't like to show off. You also love to stand up and stamp your feet. I call it "Steps" and we sing a song when you do it. You look like you're concentrating so hard when you do steps - like you're really trying to do it right. You also try and grab everything you see - and once you've grabbed it, you put it right in your mouth. Your father and I try to be super vigilant, but I'm waiting for the day you pick up a lit cigarette or a piece of dog poo. That will be a bad day.
You don't really have a favorite toy yet, but you did recently discover the mirror and you like looking at yourself and trying to bite your reflection. It's super cute. You can "talk," and you and I have conversations all the time. Sometimes you interrupt me when I'm talking, but I don't mind because you usually have more interesting things to say anyway. Daddy swears you can say words like "Hey," but I'm not so sure. Your favorite time to talk is in the very early morning when you first wake up. That's usually when I'm not so down with talking, so you monopolize the conversation. Then you eat your hands.
You've started eating solid foods. You've tried cereals, banans, peas, and carrots. You're just like your dad - you'll eat anything. I have pictures of the first time you tasted carrots - it didn't seem like you liked them, but you eat them anyway. Seriously, just like your dad. But your new foods don't mean that you get any less breastmilk, so Mommy still has to pump away to keep you healthy and fed.
Playtime with Daddy is your favorite time. You get this huge smile on your face and you start to giggle whenever you see him. When he holds you in his lap you start bending your knees so he'll lift you over his head. He calls it "Jumps" and you LOVE it. He can only do about 20-30 jumps at a time before his arms get tired. It's never enough for you, though. So, we take turns. You and Daddy always wrestle, too. Your wrestling name is "Stink Bug" and you're generally regarded as the most dangerous wrestler in the business. You are usually the winner in your matches against Daddy since you try to "latch on" to his nose, a move Daddy calls the "Stink Nose." Because your breath smells like sour milk, this move always defeats Daddy. You are then declared the winner. You win every time.
Naps are a problem. You only nap for 20 minutes at a time, and you need to listen to rap music or Taylor Swift while being rocked in order to fall asleep. You sleep on my chest or Daddy's, and always leave a puddle of drool on our shirts. But neither one of us wants to put you in your crib to nap because we love to cuddle with you. You wake up really abruptly, too, and give us these huge smiles that let us know you're ready for jumps or to wrestle again.
Night-time is my favorite time of day. Every night I get you in your pajamas and Daddy reads a book to us. Then, he turns out the light and it's just you and me. We sit in your rocking chair and I sing you songs while you take your bottle and fall asleep. I sing "In My Life," "Goodnight My Angel" and "If the Stars Were Mine" most nights, but then I follow up with whatever songs are in my head. Lots of Tori Amos, some classic rock, some rap songs. You don't know the difference as long as I sing slowly and softly. I have a terrible voice, but you don't seem to mind. When you're finally asleep I just rock you quietly for a while and look at your beautiful little face. I kiss you over and over, very gently, before tucking you into your crib. It's what I look forward to every day and I hope you let me do it for a really long time.
You're a crappy sleeper, though. Up every few hours to hang out or eat. It's a work in progress.
So, that's a little snapshot of you at six months old. Happy, healthy, and perfect in every way. Every little thing you do is absolutely amazing to me, and every little smile and tear makes me adore you more than I ever thought possible. You are the world to me - a little drooling, pooping, crap-napping, giggling, wiggling, curious, jumping, cuddly, unbelievable little world. And I love you.
Love always,
Mommy
You're growing up too fast. Sunday was your six month "birthday," and I was amazed - as always - at how quickly time has passed. I want to start writing to you every so often to force myself to slow down and appreciate who you are right now, instead of getting caught up in all my plans for your future. I want to stop and really think about you when the days seem to fly by and when I'm stuck at an office away from you. And maybe you'll like reading about these times when you grow up - to get a sense of what you were as a baby, and how your Mother and Father loved you and worked so hard to learn how to show you that.
Six months! Right now you try so hard to sit up, but you're not strong enough yet, so you topple over to one side before long. You lean forward a lot, and you look kind of weird - all folded up - when you sit. But you absolutely refuse to play on your back now, because you believe you're a sitter, even though your core muscles don't quite agree. So, Mommy or Daddy have to sit behind you and support you while you play. Grandma also bought you a Bumbo seat, which you love, and that helps you to sit upright. But you have to reach down to grab your toys off the floor, and you hate that. After a few minutes in the Bumbo you just grunt and slobber, so we take you out.
You can roll over from back to front, but you don't do it very often for some reason. I think it's because you don't like to show off. You also love to stand up and stamp your feet. I call it "Steps" and we sing a song when you do it. You look like you're concentrating so hard when you do steps - like you're really trying to do it right. You also try and grab everything you see - and once you've grabbed it, you put it right in your mouth. Your father and I try to be super vigilant, but I'm waiting for the day you pick up a lit cigarette or a piece of dog poo. That will be a bad day.
You don't really have a favorite toy yet, but you did recently discover the mirror and you like looking at yourself and trying to bite your reflection. It's super cute. You can "talk," and you and I have conversations all the time. Sometimes you interrupt me when I'm talking, but I don't mind because you usually have more interesting things to say anyway. Daddy swears you can say words like "Hey," but I'm not so sure. Your favorite time to talk is in the very early morning when you first wake up. That's usually when I'm not so down with talking, so you monopolize the conversation. Then you eat your hands.
You've started eating solid foods. You've tried cereals, banans, peas, and carrots. You're just like your dad - you'll eat anything. I have pictures of the first time you tasted carrots - it didn't seem like you liked them, but you eat them anyway. Seriously, just like your dad. But your new foods don't mean that you get any less breastmilk, so Mommy still has to pump away to keep you healthy and fed.
Playtime with Daddy is your favorite time. You get this huge smile on your face and you start to giggle whenever you see him. When he holds you in his lap you start bending your knees so he'll lift you over his head. He calls it "Jumps" and you LOVE it. He can only do about 20-30 jumps at a time before his arms get tired. It's never enough for you, though. So, we take turns. You and Daddy always wrestle, too. Your wrestling name is "Stink Bug" and you're generally regarded as the most dangerous wrestler in the business. You are usually the winner in your matches against Daddy since you try to "latch on" to his nose, a move Daddy calls the "Stink Nose." Because your breath smells like sour milk, this move always defeats Daddy. You are then declared the winner. You win every time.
Naps are a problem. You only nap for 20 minutes at a time, and you need to listen to rap music or Taylor Swift while being rocked in order to fall asleep. You sleep on my chest or Daddy's, and always leave a puddle of drool on our shirts. But neither one of us wants to put you in your crib to nap because we love to cuddle with you. You wake up really abruptly, too, and give us these huge smiles that let us know you're ready for jumps or to wrestle again.
Night-time is my favorite time of day. Every night I get you in your pajamas and Daddy reads a book to us. Then, he turns out the light and it's just you and me. We sit in your rocking chair and I sing you songs while you take your bottle and fall asleep. I sing "In My Life," "Goodnight My Angel" and "If the Stars Were Mine" most nights, but then I follow up with whatever songs are in my head. Lots of Tori Amos, some classic rock, some rap songs. You don't know the difference as long as I sing slowly and softly. I have a terrible voice, but you don't seem to mind. When you're finally asleep I just rock you quietly for a while and look at your beautiful little face. I kiss you over and over, very gently, before tucking you into your crib. It's what I look forward to every day and I hope you let me do it for a really long time.
You're a crappy sleeper, though. Up every few hours to hang out or eat. It's a work in progress.
So, that's a little snapshot of you at six months old. Happy, healthy, and perfect in every way. Every little thing you do is absolutely amazing to me, and every little smile and tear makes me adore you more than I ever thought possible. You are the world to me - a little drooling, pooping, crap-napping, giggling, wiggling, curious, jumping, cuddly, unbelievable little world. And I love you.
Love always,
Mommy
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