Sunday, May 31, 2009

2 months

Dear Elliott,

Yesterday you officially turned two months old, and it seems like you've both been with me forever and yet only two months. This month I've watched you slowly unfolding into a smiling baby boy, getting more alert and developing a little more personality. Early on this month you started to wake up around 10:30 or so and didn't want to immediately go back to sleep. I placed you on an activity mat in the floor and you made fast friends with the toys that hung over your head, and a few weeks later started to talk and coo to your reflection. Who knew that a toothless smile from your awake baby could make someone so proud. I thought I knew, but I had no clue.
You have officially been introduced to our social scene, and have gone on several outings to meet up with friends around town. I knew you would charm the ladies, but the boys seem to enjoy seeing you just as much, and have nicknamed you E.T. Everyone picked up on this much quicker than I had hoped, but I'm hopeful that your classmates will be slower to call you this, considering the movie it refers to will be over 30 years old at that point. If not, however, please cut us some slack, as we picked your name 15 minutes after the most amazing, shocking, scary time your father and I have probably ever gone through. Lovable aliens just weren't in our radar.
While I have enjoyed watching you grow this month little man, it has been equally interesting to see the changes I've undergone since your arrival. I've always been around kids and have leapt at the opportunity to learn and play and work with them my whole life. So when I figured out that it doesn't matter how many siblings you've had or babysitting gigs you've done- you will still absolutely wig out about the most everyday things- I was considerably humbled. Vaccines, even for someone with a community health background, are scary and make your baby cry like someone sucker-punched him. No parent likes that, and most parents want to cry, too. All babies surprise you with their ability to wriggle out of something you didn't expect them to be able to wriggle out of. When that happens, you will feel like a moron. And even the best babies (that includes you, love) will wake up from their nap right as mom dozes off, and due to her sleep deprivation, she will think "What is wrong with this kid?" I am also apparently now a woman who can get spit up on and will see if it is noticable before I go change. I will try to nurse you while grocery shopping if I can do it discretely enough. And even though I hate pacifiers, if you start crying 10 minutes into the outing I spent 2 hours getting us ready for, I will try to stick one in your mouth. Then you will gag on it and spit it in the floor.
This is the month you outgrew your newborn sized diapers, then your newborn sized onesies, and then your newborn-sized everything else. About a week after I realized this, I relented and put you in bigger diapers and onesies and everything else. This is the month I took a deep breath and left you alone with your dad, then your grandma, granddaddy, uncle, and aunt, and just a few days ago I left you with a good friend and went to a movie with your daddy and tried really hard not to talk about you non-stop and call and check on you every five minutes. I kept checking the backseat and feeling like I had left behind something I really needed with me. It's the month I have managed to cook dinner, do laundry, type blog posts, attend meetings, and get ready with one arm. I think we are starting to get the hang of this, sweet little guy. Please be a late crawler.

1 comment:

Tiffany said...

I love the "Please be a late crawler". I know exactly what you mean by that!