Sunday, January 25, 2009
Today you turned 7 months old. We are in the Minneapolis airport on a layover, heading home from Michigan. We went back there with Grammie four days ago to go to a celebration of life for Grandad’s cousin Paul. Paul was an amazing man, and the service was really incredible. It was obvious how many people loved him, and his spirit really shined through. We got to see lots of family there, and at the gathering at Pam’s house afterwards. You were so sweet the whole time-- very social and smiling at everyone. You especially loved your cousin Kenzie and kept trying to kiss her and pull her hair. I think she reminded you of Mariah (who is really missing you right now, as is Levi). We also got to stay at Selkirk Lake again with Great Grampa Bill and Great Gramma Lois. The lake was covered with ice and snow-- much different than when we were here in August. Grammie bought you a new parka at Meijer, on sale for $6.24-- she was very pleased-- and of course you looked absolutely darling in it (and of course I got a photo). We headed up to Mt. Pleasant for a night to see Great Gramma Lea and Great Grampa Walt. She thought you were a “perfect” little baby-- and was quite impressed by your strength as you did pull-up after pull-up on her walker. She complimented you in her unique way, calling you a “little smart-ass” ;) While we were there, Grammie’s cousin Buck and his wife Lori came to visit and meet you, along with her good friend Kam, and Gramma Lea’s neighbor Cliff. You smiled and loved on all of them-- and of course, you were a hit with each of them, too. While we were visiting, you kept crawling over to the ottoman and pulling yourself up. Then you would let go and stand for a second or two before falling on your bottom. Once, incredibly, you turned and took a step with only one hand barely touching the ottoman. Everyone thinks you’ll take off walking in a matter of weeks. Really, lovie, you don’t need to rush this walking thing. I keep trying to tell you, you’re too little. I’m not in any rush, and frankly, am not ready for toddlerhood just yet...
In other big news, you finally cut your first tooth on Friday. I noticed it in the car as we drove home from Pam’s...
You’re crawling over to me and looking ready to nurse. I’ll write more soon.
I love you more than you’ll ever know!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Mr. Noah, my snuggle bear~
You are now 6 (and a half) months old, and I can’t hardly stand how much I love you. I know I keep saying it, but seriously, my heart is overflowing. Life is pretty busy these days, to say the least. I am totally scrambling to keep up, and lately am feeling further and further “behind” each day. I’m probably trying to do too much, and something’s got to give. But despite the feelings of stress and panic that take over sometimes, I couldn’t be happier when I hold you or see your smiling face. You are such an amazing light in my life.
Before I tell you all the reasons that you are incredible to me this month, let me start by saying that you don’t need to *do* anything for me to be proud of you. I just am. Because you are you, and that will *always* be enough. But damn! You’ve got some serious skills, dude! You are completely crawling already. Crossing rooms. But that’s not all. You are pulling yourself up to a stand! Easily! And then just hanging out there-- even letting go and standing one-handed. You then proceed to attempt to stand unassisted and fall on your butt, but still-- you’re only 6 months old for crying out loud. I keep trying to tell you that, but you’re still mad that you can’t walk yet...
And I’m sorry to say it, but honey, you’re fat. Seriously. Thunder thighs and cottage cheese dimply butt. Don’t be upset, really. It’s the best kind of baby chunkilicious fat. I can’t stop squeezing you and kissing you and wanting to just eat you up. The other day you weighed twenty-two pounds (with clothes on). You read that right. Twenty-two. I don’t think Levi weighed that much until he was a year old. You. are. huge.
And oh so stinkin’ cute. The smiles. The coos. The giggles. And now the pseudo-kisses. You look at me, your eyes light up, you grab fistfuls of my hair in each hand and pull my face as hard as you can toward you as you take my entire nose into your slobbery mouth. It hurts like hell, and it’s pretty gross, what with all that drool dripping down my face-- but it melts my heart. That’s motherhood for you. You probably won’t understand for a long, long, time.
I wish I could capture every detail, explain it better, remember it always. But for one, I’m too busy, and too tired, to write everyday. I’m trying to slow down. To savor it. To hold you as you sleep and soak in your smell, rub my cheeks against the silkyness of your golden hair, bury my face into your waddle...
Honestly, the postpartum time kind of kicks my ass. Physically, I’m a wreck. Mentally/emotionally, well, I could use a little work there, too. But you are so, so worth it.
You’re still coming to work with me, but those days are quickly coming to an end. By the time you turn 7 months, we’ll probably have another arrangement. You’re just getting so active and no longer content to hang out there playing quietly or sleeping peacefully-- you’re a mover and a shaker now,and you are ready for more interaction. I will really miss getting to smootch on you between patients.
I don’t think there’s ever been a baby as surrounded by love as you are. Your big brother and sister still can’t get enough of you, your Grammie comes to visit you as often as she can, and you’re the star of the show at my office. You’ll never be a stranger to the spotlight, or wanting for attention.
There’s so much more to tell you, but it will have to wait for now. It’s late and I’m pooped. But I couldn’t let another day go by without thanking you again for coming into my life. You are truly a gift from heaven.
I love you, sweetie boy.