Twelve Months

Dear Andrew,

One. Oh. My. Goodness. You are ONE.

Yes. It will be redundant of me to say how fast this time has gone. I still think about your birth often. I think about you coming quick and surprising into our lives, into our family. And you have spent the year with us claiming your place in our hearts. Demanding to participate in everything and interact with everyone you see. And you get really, really dramatic when you can’t. You throw yourself on the floor, sometimes from a seated position, arching your back and knocking your head on the carpet. Sometimes you’ll collapse forward and roll around. And I’m sure these little baby tantrums are only going to get worse, but right now, they’re actually kind of adorable.

You have gotten FAST. You’re not quite running, but your walk gets you where you need to be not long after you decide you need to be there. You still love being chased and as you run away, your mouth is wide open and smiley, and your voice is loud. A daring yell. You love this game. Especially when you get up to take off in the middle of a diaper change.

You will kill me one day for posting this, but when we get that diaper off, you hop up with that mischievious twinkle in your eye, grab your junk and hobble off down the hallway as fast as your legs will go. Then you come back to the bedroom doorway to peek in at me again and laugh and laugh, holding your boy bits all the while and running away as soon as you’ve caught my eye. 

This month, the weather has finally gotten nicer, and now that the ground is often dry and you so much more steady on your feet, I have let you out of the carrier and onto the ground. You go. You grin so wide, your eyes light up so brightly, and you are free to roam. And roam you do. You run, you carry things around, you trip and fall. You don’t mind. You get right back up again. You are fascinated and thrilled with the grass, the concrete, the sidewalk chalk, the rocks, the leaves and the dirt. You have learned that you don’t enjoy the taste of the latter few, the dirt being especially difficult to get out of your mouth when you realized how offensive it was. But you just can’t believe how amazing this wide world really is, how much there is to examine, and you babble and make sure to point it all out to me whenever you get the chance.

And speaking of chalk and dirt, you will eat anything. You no longer appreciate it if we offer you food that is different from what’s on our own plates. You know when you’re missing out on something and you are not shy about letting us know that you’ve gotten wise. You love spaghetti and meatballs, lentils, chicken, olives, pickles, spinach dip, grapes, goulash, potato pancakes and more foods than I can remember to name.

Awhile ago, we started to encourage you to sign a few simple words. Essentially, “more,” and “food,” and “please,” because the way you were asking for it was damaging our ears and hurting our brains with the decibel of your screaming. You combined the sign for “more” and “food,” I think, so you haven’t exactly mastered the signs we showed you, but at least we know what you mean when you take your index finger and point to the palm of your other hand. It means you want more. Usually food. Usually my food.

 

You are such a helper. You want to stir pots of food on the stove. You press your face against the window of the oven when something is baking. You pull the towels down from their hanging places and rub them over the fronts of cabinets and across the floors. When Michael helps take the laundry out of the washer and hands it to me to put in the dryer, you reach out and grab some with your little hands, too, thrilled to be a part of the process. You put clothes (and occasionally trucks) in the hamper from the floor and remove clean clothes from the laundry basket. You even help pick up toys at night or outside when it’s time to go in. Sometimes you also take them back out again, but I know you mean well. 

You always want to be part of the action. You find it hard to nap if there are people around or even in the car unless you are completely wiped. You’re just too excited to see what’s coming next. You are smiley and strong and completely in love with the world and the people around you. You’re lucky to have so many wonderful friends and family members in your life. And even though you are completely attached to your mommy still, you manage to give lots of love to lots of others. You like to be held at adult level, and as long as there is an adult around with a free arm, you will walk over and reach up. And not one of them so far has been able to look down at your big smiling face and outstretched hands and deny you that simple request.

There’s usually some hugs in it for us, and you give really, really good ones.

Love,
Mama

 

Eleven Months

Dear Andrew,

You are eleven months old. I can’t believe it will be your birthday so soon! We’re even going to celebrate a couple of weeks early because your grandparents are going to be out of town on the day itself. And it’s your own fault, too, because you were the one who decided to be born during the middle of their April Florida vacation (eleven days before you were expected, thank you very much).

You have become even more curious and engaged this last month, and it is so much fun to watch you explore your world. The toys I never thought would pique your interest have begun to captivate you. Not as much, still, as your brother’s things, but there are plenty of moments when you go off on your own rather than destroying whatever elaborate set your brother has going on with his tiny, chokey Legos.

Speaking of Legos and chokies, oh my goodness, you are trouble. One of the things in this life that wildly amuses you is to pick out any one of the five hundred million small things your big brother has scattered about his bedroom floor on any given day and stick it in your mouth. But you’re smart and in control about it. You hold it there in your mouth and get this insane twinkle in your eye to match your maniacal grin and walk over to me, wherever I am, flapping your arms and saying, “Uuuuu, uuuuu!” So of course, I say, “Spit it out,” and then you do, but you also immediately pick it up from the floor and start the whole sequence over again. You also enjoy running away once you know that I know you have something in your mouth you’re not supposed to have in there.

We had a little bit of a downer this month. It was around the time that everyone in the house was coming down with some sort of cold or illness. But at the same time, we also fed you chicken and couscous. So in the middle of the night, when you puked, we chalked it up to dinner. Then, of course, the next morning you totally vomitted in the car. I never had to clean puke out of the car before. Out of all the nooks and crannies of buckles and Velcro. Yuck. I was not prepared for it at all. So I’m in there with tissue after tissue and no place to put them. Fortunately, a woman from a minivan a few spaces away in the parking lot had an extra plastic bag to lend, and to her, I will be forever grateful that I didn’t have to walk around that morning with a wad of apple-vomit tissues in my pocket or purse. I still don’t know if you were sick or had some bad chicken, but I’m glad it ended there.

You are so affectionate and enthusiastic. I love spending my days with you, but I almost envy your dad and grandpa their jobs that take them away from you for a portion of each day, or your grandparents who only see you once or twice a week. I get a lot of crankypants moments when you’re tired, wet, hungry or whatever. And I don’t mind, really, because even when you’re screaming your head off, you’re still so stinking cute. But when someone else that you love walks through the door, you just light up. You’re like your brother that way. When someone who hasn’t been around suddenly is, you’ve got to give them everything they’ve been missing. All the excitement, all the smiles, the enthusiastic babbling. Pick me up, play with me, let me show you all the things I’ve learned today, and then let’s do it again, you seem to say. I love watching you with our family. With your dad and grandpa every day. With my parents. You love with wild abandon, and you thrive on their attention and affection.

You’ve been awsome for other people when I leave you for short periods of time, but I don’t get the same response when I walk in that door. Nope, I get the teary-eyed begging to pick you up and save you from the torture it was to be away from me. Which is endearing in its own way, I guess. I know that you have lots of fun when I’m out of sight, and it’s probably just that your little baby brain kind of forgets to miss me when there are other people to play with and love. And I know that you hate to see me go and love to see me return. Your expression of this is just your way of saying that there is no one else in your world like me, like Mommy. I’m the most important, and when you see me after missing me, I’m the only one who matters. And you know what? I can’t fault you for that at all. It’s pretty great to be all that and more, even if the expression of it involves some teary moments.

You are incredibly sweet and loving. You run to me whenever I get down on the floor to play with you and you give me big hugs. Sometimes even a nice open-mouthed kiss on the cheek. You really return love as you have been given it, without hesitation. When someone picks you up, even your brother who’s not all that much bigger than you, you often gift them with a big hug, wrapping your arms around as far as they’ll go and resting your head on their shoulder. I love those hugs. They make me feel like I’m doing something right.

You chatter and babble and it really sounds like you’re trying to explain some profound revelation about the universe to whoever will listen. You have learned to mimic certain sounds. Your “mama” and “dada” are pretty spot on. You’ve even said “ba” (ball) and “nanana” (banana) a few times. Now that you’ve started to understand that a banana is food, you will ask for a “nanana” no matter what is being served at the moment. Because the end result, us sharing our edibles, is the important part of that communication.

You like to dance. But the funniest part is that music from the stereo totally freaks you out. If it’s coming from the television or one of the toys, there’s no problem. But as soon as I put on a cd, you cry about the same as when you see me pull out the vaccuum cleaner, demand to be held and comforted, and you point to make sure I’m well aware of the thing that is contributing so much to your anxiety. I do enjoy the little bouncy dance that you do, and even when there’s no music playing, I’ll dance a little here and there, just to see you shake it.

You like to be chased and tickled. You get the biggest kick out of running away, and I’m not entirely exaggerating by calling it running these days. You run away from diapers. You run away with forbidden toys. You run away when I look you right in the face and say, “I’m gonna get you!” But you also run back to me with your mouth open wide, drool dripping into your usually soaked shirt front to hug, tackle and give me huge kisses, saying “Ahhh,” right back to me. You like to get me, too. And you do.

Yes. You’ve got me.

Love,
Mama

 

Ten Months

Dear Andrew,

You are ten months old, and I’m almost on time with this note to you. A great achievement, if I do say so myself.

Ten. It’s such a big number. And yes, I’m going to say it again, you are growing so fast! Hence the big news this month–you’re WALKING. Yes, you are walking. You choose walking most of the time now, and when you fall, you pick yourself right up again and walk some more. You love to hold things and walk, showing off whatever new item you’ve discovered that you can carry around with you. You try to go faster than your ability sometimes, but you amuse yourself by your attempts to “run” away. I love watching you walk around.

You started out just taking a few steps at a time. Then we went to this big indoor playground, where they had all sorts of things on wheels for you to stand and push around. The next day, you were much more confident, and you used the next week to practice and practice that wobbly walk of yours, and by the weekend, you were nearly an expert. Then we went on a trip and put you in disposable diapers for a weekend, and you kind of had to start over again with a new sort of balance. Same when we got back home and back to cloth. Now, though, after all that, I don’t think there’s anything that could slow you down.

This month, you also began to sleep in your own bed, often even several hours at a time successfully. There was one morning, when I was at the gym, you got your diaper changed, you reached toward your crib when Daddy picked you up, and when he wrapped your soft blankie around your shoulders, you rested your head on his chest, sighed, and almost immediately passed out. He said you weren’t even acting tired, you just knew that was what you needed right then. You’re pretty smart.

You’ve been trying so many new foods. You love it when I offer you bites of whatever the rest of us are eating, even if you may not ultimately enjoy the taste or texture. You just seem to really enjoy eating. You smile and grip the spoon in your four teeth. You chomp and babble. You stick out your tongue and laugh. You kick your little feet with excitement and flap your hands in the air. And you scream for more.

You have the best smile, and you wear it almost constantly. It is so much fun to make you laugh. Your brother loves to do those things that only a big brother can really get away with to make you giggle. Blankets over your head. Wrestling. Running at you full speed from the end of the hallway making a ruckus. Lately, if I just look at you and laugh a big fake laugh, it sets you off, and then I don’t have to fake it anymore.

You still love baths with a passion. You crawl around and splash and squeal. You look up with a big open-mouthed grin. You explore, and you’ve figured out how to stick your mouth in the water and blow bubbles. And you are completely impressed with yourself, even the couple of times you come up sputtering. But my dear, you were born into water, so it doesn’t surprise me at all that you’re so comfortable there. When you slip and slide under the surface, you naturally hold your breath and come up smiling nine times out of ten. Even Michael, at five, still has some trouble with that concept, which you don’t even have to think about.

When Michael first made me a mommy, I was like any new mom. I was forming this new identity, this new mother-self, which I resisted more often than I’d probably ever admit. I looked for solutions for situations that weren’t really problems, but part of the territory of motherhood, of existence with an infant, a toddler, a child. When you were born, I was already mother, but as I’ve watched you, played with you, nursed you and cradled you, as I’ve lived my daily life with you, I feel like I’ve really settled into this role, this self, and there’s no other place I’d rather be. Being your mommy, and Michael’s, is by no means the easiest job I’ve ever had, but it is by far the best.

You are fascinated with new things, new people and new places. You reach out your arm and make some sounds. Your mouth hangs open, and even if it’s well past nap time, there is no chance you’ll sleep. We went to Discovery World and the Mall of America, among other places, and you wanted to touch it all. The best is when I let you down out of my arms, when you’re ready, and you get to just go.

You always look back at me, to make sure I’m watching, but you’re testing your own limits, as well as looking for mine. You turn to me and grin, with that glint of trouble in your eyes, and then, yes, you go. You go fast, you run away from me. But you’ll keep checking back over your shoulder to make sure I’m right there behind you, laughing like it’s a game, me chasing you. But I know you’re also just making sure I don’t let you too far from Mommy just yet.

Love,
Mommy

 

Nine Months

Dear Andrew,

 

I’m sorry I don’t always remember to write you on your monthly “birthday.” Our daily life often gets filled with things other than mommy sitting at a computer. Or, if I do have to sit at the coputer, it’s for reasons unrelated to how awesome you are. We had a condo to sell, we had Christmas and other miscellaneous goings on. We had life. And now I’m starting to get why the poor second child seems to get the shaft when it comes to attention, photographs, baby books, monthly blogging.

 

Rest assured, though, your awesomeness is constantly on my mind. And I’ll try to make this one extra long to make up for the missing “eight.”

 

Recenly, you have been working hard on your leg strength and balance. You can stand up and put your hands over your head. You can stand up and clap. You can stand up and squat and stand up again, often while holding onto something stable, sometimes it’s entirely unnecessary to hold onto anything at all. Then you took a step. Then another. You do it a few times a day, but each time ultimately ends after a maximum of two steps and you’re back on your bottom and heading into your fast crawl.

 

And your crawl is most certainly fast. Even though it seems as though you’re always trying to push it, you keep your left knee down but dig in with your right toes like getting on the foot will give you that little turbo boost you need. And you cross the room in no time. You book it down the hallway like lightning. You flee from me once your diaper is off, you turn and look back, you crawl back in my direction a little, and then turn around and zoom, go, with the biggest grin on your face. You are so playful, and it drives me crazy, but also makes my heart explode.

 

 

You have finally learned to say “mama,” athough you only seem to do it when you’re really upset. You make sounds like, “deedledeedledee,” and have even sang along a little bit with the Christmas carols over the holiday season. Your repertoire of sounds is increasing little by little, and you’ve become much more expressive in your tone. Like I’m feeding you some food puree or other, if that spoon’s not to your mouth quickly enough, you bellow like a cave man. You’ve tried to say “banana,” and also “toast.”

 

Speaking of bananas, Grandpa eats one almost every day, and if he does it anywhere near you, you are wildly offended if he doesn’t share. You love food. You get so happy to try to pick up the broken bits of cheerios, which mostly end up on your lap, but I appreciate your enthusiasm because it occupies you while the rest of us take the opportunity to eat without your demands to be spoon fed. You like to play and make silly noises, especially while eating, which also occasionally leads to sprays of apples or bananas through the air, and who knows where it all lands in the end.

 

You love to explore new things and places. You still want to do all the things your big brother does, and most of the time, he’s happy to include you. You have gotten really good at peek-a-boo, and so excited by the game the smiles and squeals couldn’t be any bigger or louder if you tried. You and Michael often wrestle with each other, and he’s really good and gentle with you. He loves to make you laugh almost as much as we do. But you also get into the Legos and sometimes interfere with the construction of the latest robot or vehicle. If Daddy and Michael are working on some bigger projects with some smaller bricks, they’ll close themselves in Michael’s bedroom and you’ll race down the hall after them to yell and hit the door. You look at me like how dare they exclude you from their thing. And I can’t help but laugh. It’s only the beginning.

 

We play the Wii from time to time, and you grab a controller of your own or an accessory or a remote and wave it around, thinking you’re helping. And for the time being, you’re content with that. I know you’ll be mad when you realize you’re not actually influencing the guys on the television. And I know you can’t wait for your own Lego time. You are so strong, so mature, so anxious to play the big kid games, to do the grown-up things, sometimes I forget how small you still are. That is, until I have you curled up in my lap, nursing you to sleep. Your knees bend against me, and your hand gently strokes the mole on my chest or pulls at your ear. Your fingers are still so small and soft. Your eyelashes so delicate resting on your smooth baby cheek.

 

I love to see how much your world is expanding every day. And I love to see your four teeth when you see me and smile like maybe I still could be that whole world for you, too, somtimes. You are amazing. You are awesome. Trust me, I’m noticing daily. I’m enjoying you immensely. So much that it’s a shame to pull myself away in order to sit here and write it.

 

 

 

 

 

I love you so much! I wish I had more time to share all the joy and laughter you bring to this little family of ours. You’re crazy and enthusiastic. You are sweet and loving. You are confident and demanding. You are incredible, and I’m lucky to be here with you, playing, teaching, guiding and watching you grow in your own special way.

 

 

 

Love,
Mama

 

Seven Months

Dear Andrew,

Last week, you turned seven months old. It’s been quite the eventful month for you and for all of us. You took on the end of daylight savings time without much of a disruption, but a week later, we hauled you and your brother and all of our worldly possessions halfway across the country from our home in Virginia to make a fresh start in the land of your parents’ birth, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

I still have a lot to say for myself about this change, but as for you, you handled everything like a champ. You did pretty well on the long drive, even managing to tolerate the dark for a few hours without too much screaming. We had to make a lot of stops, and a trip that used to take your dad and me about 13 or 14 hours without any little boys along took us about 20 this time. But it wasn’t all you. And it wasn’t all your brother. Family road trips just take a little longer, and lucky for us, we will only have to do that drive again if we really, really want to. Because now that we’re in Wisconsin, vacations can be spent doing something other than coming to see your grandparents. And that was sort of part of the point of it all, really.

You are incredibly observant. And I know that you’ve been a little confused over the last few days. You look around at our bedroom, which contains all the same furniture and artwork that we had back in Virginia, and you look at me or your daddy and you really seem to be working hard to reconcile the space with the people and the stuff. It was amazing to watch you figure out your new reality. By now, you seem to have embraced it while I, I am still getting there. 

Your smiles help. You love being around your grandparents. I was worried that you’d continue to prefer only me, even as you had all these loving people reaching out to hold you close. And there are still times, especially evening times, when only one person will do. But you have made so many hearts so happy over the last several days with your openness, your curiosity and your loving and playful nature, including your own. I’ve enjoyed watching you explore these new places and these people that will be more in your life now that we’re closer to theirs.

This month, you got your first tooth. I thought you were coming down with a cold or a stomach bug because you’d been fussy with a runny nose and some, shall we say different, diaper contents. But a couple of days later, I stuck my thumb in your mouth to keep you from yelling during M’s nap time and lo and behold, I felt that sharp little spot sticking through your gums. 

I have to tell you, I wasn’t ready for that. At all. Your brother seemed pretty excited for you, sticking his own finger in your mouth to feel the thing I was so surprised about, but me? I almost cried. You are just growing up so fast, and with everything going on in our lives, it’s been hard for me to stop you, or even just to stop and enjoy you. Don’t get me wrong, every new thing about you brings me so much pride and joy as your mother, it’s just that sometimes, I don’t know, I’m afraid it’s gone so fast I’ve missed something important.

But maybe, it’s just that it’s never going to be enough for me. I will never get enough of your smiles, now with one tooth prominently poking up from your bottom gums. I will never hear enough of your baby giggles. I will never get enough of you pulling yourself up, losing your balance, and falling back onto your butt or to your hands and knees. Of your huge, open-mouth grins when you see me from far away and crawl determinedly in my general direction. Of you sitting on the floor watching your big brother. Laughing at him even when he’s not doing anything at all to try to entertain you, just out of the joy you have being close to him. Of your mimicking his lightsaber fighting moves where you hold one of his hand-made creations and wave it back and forth in your little fist. Of your hugs. Of your sweet cuddles, though somewhat rare, with your daddy. Of your babbling, or how your reach for our faces and pull us closer for kisses, Eskimo kisses or little raspberries on your chubby cheeks or neck. You do all these things, and my heart goes, “Do it again.” I want more. And still more. It will never be enough. 

Love,
Mommy

 

Six Months

Dear Andrew,

A few days ago, you turned six months old. It happened to be the day of a big party we had for your daddy and big brother, so I didn’t really get a chance to sit down and write to you until today.

But boy do I have some stuff to say.

You crawl now. And fast. Hands and knees, baby! I turn around, and you’ve managed to get yourself all the way underneath the kitchen table to taste the cords lying on the floor there. You cruise right down the hallway to my bedroom, yelling the whole time because I didn’t come to you first. You can sit up without any help, and you can get into crawling position and back to sitting like it’s no big thing. You are already irritating your big brother with how easy it is for you to get into his things and subsequently get those things into your slobbery mouth. You’ve been on the move for awhile, now, I know. But this month, you’ve totally gotten serious about it.

You like to stand up. So much so that you have already gotten impatient with waiting for parental hands to help lift and stabilize you on your feet and have already used whatever you can find to try to get up, up, up. You will often be down on all fours, hands and knees, but decide it’s time to try again and get your feet underneath you instead. You still don’t quite have the strength, though, to push all the way up off your hands. It’s fun to watch you test your body’s limits, but my one question for you is, what’s the hurry?

You tried food for the first time this month. Sweet potatoes and bananas so far. You’re really excited about that stuff on the spoon, and you really seem to want to eat just like us, but we’re not so sure you’re body is quite ready. After a few nights of sweet potatoes, you were super hyper, you wouldn’t sleep when you usually do. So we started offering the food just in the afternoon, which seemed to help, though also seemed to tie you up, intestine-wise. So we took a little break from food to try again in a few weeks, when maybe your body will be better able to take on the new stuff.

It’s impossible to deny, you want to do what everyone else is doing, especially your big brother. I love how you watch him with such intense focus. I can see your thoughts in those moments of “when can I do that?” You’re mentally trying to figure out how to make your own body do those things, too. The best part is how happy it makes you even just to be on his radar. When he makes funny noises for you, plays with you, even going so far as a bit of light wrestling, you are just so obviously in heaven. It pretty much makes my heart explode.

When we’re in the car on our way to or from any of our various activities of play dates, you two in the back seat, if you’re actually awake, Michael usually finds a way to crack you up. He makes faces, says silly words, and you just laugh and laugh. I love your laugh. Your smile is easy and huge and adorable. And your laugh is full of unbridled joy. We have a long car trip coming up, so I hope that at least some part of that drive is full of M’s silliness and your adorable giggles.

Another reason I got a little behind this month writing to you is because we’ve been preparing ourselves and our home for a major relocation. It hurts my heart to have to leave the place where I first brought both my babies home, but I know that at least for you, as long as you have your momma near, the move will probably not even phase you. You’re still happiest when I’m nearby, and you and Daddy have had some time together to play and connect, and I’d love to see that happen more. I love having you in our family, and I know that all of us feel the same way. And one of the reasons we are moving next month is because of our family. So both you and your brother know all the love that surrounds you up close and personal.

So keep laughing and squealing and talking yourself to sleep. Let me eat your belly, your fingers, your toes, and I’m sure my heart will heal from having to leave this place of ours. Because we’ve got so many good memories to make where we’re going. We’ve got this great opportunity for a fresh start full of love and laughter and new adventures. I’m so glad we have you with us. We are truly blessed, and I hope you feel that way, too.

Love,
Mommy

 

Five Months

Dear Andrew,

If someone would have told me even five years ago that I would spend part of my days taking a four-month-old to the toilet, I would have laughed in their face. Yet, here we are. You seem to dislike soiling yourself so much that you fuss and squirm until someone takes you to the bathroom, where you often promptly do your business without any extra cues from me. I’m astonished, and yet, there are other people who start this process from birth, so I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this phenomenon. We’re not pushing it, and most of the time, I’d just rather have you in a (super cute cloth) diaper, but you do really know how to communicate that need. I just never thought I’d be one of “those people.” I never thought that I’d have a kid using the toilet before he can even sit up. Just another one of your wonderful surprises, I guess.

And speaking of sitting up, you’re trying so hard to do just that. You are okay on your tummy for a little while, sometimes even lying on your back is cool enough with you, but sometimes, there is nothing that makes you happier than trying to sit on your own. You look so proud for those few moments when you’re able to balance yourself upright on your bottom until you tip over. Your brother is highly amused at this stage of your development, and he demands that I sit you up as much for the practice of helping you master sitting as for the part where you topple.

You have started doing this funny fish-like motion with your mouth, which is probably because your family has enjoyed the smiles we’ve gotten by doing that very thing. Well, little one, you have turned the tables on us, here, and that opening-and-closing act gets us smiling and laughing with you ever time. You often add your own vocalizations to the motion, resulting in a kind of pfladablah sound, which makes it even better. You like to talk and often shout with fingers, toes or toys in your mouth. It’s insane how much some of those rattles seem to rile you up sometimes.

You sleep better than I do at night, and I’m never going to complain about that. You do tend to sweat more than any baby I’ve known, which is a little strange, but it doesn’t bother you at all, so I’m good there, too. What I love about you when you’re tired is how you “talk” yourself to sleep. Sometimes you’re upset enough that you cry and complain, but often, you just kind of sigh and groan until you pass out. It’s adorable. Like you.

Speaking of sleep, however, there is just one thing I’d like you to work on for me and your daddy if you could. I’m sure that I’ve contributed to this, but your inability to sleep anywhere but near a breathing body is getting a little old now. It’s funny that you used to be able to drift off on your own or even be put down asleep when you were a lot newer at this whole existing thing than you are now. The thing is, a lot of the time, I have to wear you just so I can get something done around the house or work at the diaper store. When I put you down, you always wake up, except, on rare occasion, in the car. I’m sure this will get better eventually, but it would really do your parents good if you could sleep on your own just a little more often. I promise, you’ll live to tell the tale.

You can move yourself around pretty well now. You’re still not crawling, but you’re obviously motivated. When you see someone or something you want, but it’s out of reach or across the room, you pull with your arms and push with your legs and twist and turn and somehow manage to get closer to your destination than you were before. We’re still figuring out a solution for keeping your brother’s tiny little toys out of range, but so far he’s actually been really good about keeping an eye on you. And he at least lets us know when he’s happened to place a Lego or action figure hand somewhere within your reach. Not that he does it on purpose or anything.

You are easily the happiest baby I know. The way your smile lights up everyone around you melts my heart. I’m a lucky mama to have the sweetest boys in the world in my life, in my home, in my heart. Every morning, you stretch and squirm. When we finally start talking to you–by that time, even your brother has usually joined us in the bed–you look around and as soon as you spot one of us–doesn’t matter which one–your grin fills up your face. You’re just so happy to realize that you’re still surrounded by these people who love you so much. And it makes me smile to know I’m surrounded by such love, too. I tell you, it’s a beautiful way to start my day.

Love,
Mama