Dear Reese,
The other day, we were in a doctor’s office up north of town. Your daddy was really sick, actually. Sick from a bug we suspect came from you, our sweet little petri dish. You’ve both been ill, and you’ve been fighting coughing and congestion for the better part of your short life. Anyway, we were sitting in the waiting room waiting for your daddy to be called into see Dr. Jill when this guy (another patient, maybe?) started paying close attention to you. He was just enthralled with your aura of baby cuteness, I suppose. Seriously, he just said over and over “Such a cute baby. You guys did great!” until it started to feel a little creepy. He went on to ask other fairly specific personal questions, some of which I artfully declined to answer with any sort of detail because something about his relentless need for personal information was a tad unsettling.
Reese, I cannot stress how often I have heard a variation of “cute baby” or “adorable smile” or “look at those eyes”. It’s great, I love the fact you are just so beautiful, and I’m not the only one who thinks so (you know, because I’m your mother and all). It really helps that you are such an engaging baby; always quick to make eye contact and smile. This characteristic, my sweetheart, will be a burden to you if you ever move to New York City and have to ride the subway TRUST ME ON THIS ONE.
There is a darker side to this endearing cuteness of yours. My nightmares of someone coming into my house and hurting you or taking you away from have somehow increased in frequency. I can’t help but feel it’s somehow related to this whole “parental instinct” thing, but it’s an eerie feeling to be on the defensive when I think a random stranger is paying you too much attention. I could assume that for this guy, seeing you only triggered fond memories of his own kids at that age, and that his intentions were absolutely harmless in every way. My biggest fear EVER is losing you, and I can’t help to think that one day you may catch the eye of someone who wants to pay you much too much attention, and all the horrible things they show on Dateline would become my reality.
Enough of the heavy stuff, on to the fun things about your life this past month. We have seen big changes in you this time around, especially in the eating, talking, and mobility fronts.
The ROLLING: Hey Squirt! Welcome to self-directed locomotion! Shortly after I published last month’s letter (you know, the one where I said you were THISCLOSE to rolling your little self over), you sure as spit rolled over. FOR THE FIRST TIME, RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES AND THE CAMERA. There is no limit to your rolling, a WHOLE NEW WORLD OF MOTION IS YOURS. For about two weeks, you’d wake up in the wee hours of the morning (goodbye, delicious full night of sleep!) and “practice” your rolling. Only you’d manage to roll on your belly, and then you’d cry for someone to come save you. Any guess who would come to you at all hours of the night? HHHHMMMMMM?
It’s just a good thing that I don’t even remember what eight hours of uninterrupted sleep feels like anymore. Plus, you’re always happy to see me and my boobs early in the morning.
The EATING: My little gourmet. Cheerios, cheese, hummus, chicken, pork, turkey, graham crackers, club crackers, Pepperidge Farms Goldfish, cucumber, whole fresh peas, yogurt, whole milk, cut up grapes, steamed carrots, your shoes, my necklaces, the dog’s ear, blueberry smoothies, avocados, and little pasta stars — all of these things you have tasted and enjoyed. You are well on your way to enjoying a wide variety of foods and most notably, you enjoy the foods directly off my plate the most. You have learned (and I don’t think I taught you this, but I haven’t disciplined you either) that if I hold onto a Cheerio with my lips, you will take your index finger and thumb and very expertly liberate the Cheerio from the tyranny of my mouth. I probably ought to teach you that Cheerio stealing isn’t proper table manners, but for now I’m just thrilled that your fine motor skills for snacky-snatching are developing so nicely.
The most notable development of late is your determination to feed yourself. Spoonfuls of sweet potatoes are so passé; lately, all you want to eat is anything you can grab with your sticky, busy little fingers.
The TALKING: Munchkin, when you started babbling, you took it very seriously. All your attention was given to the volume and consistency of your bah-bah-ah-baas, with your face solemn, concentrating on your pronunciation and DID I MENTION VOLUME. Lately, you’ve started added demonstrative movement to your vocalizations, I suppose for emphasis. I don’t know how else to describe it: swaying back and forth, rolling on your little round bottom, your chin upraised… you look like a 16.5 pound miniature Ray Charles, only with no piano or sunglasses. This new development has to be the most hilarious benchmark in your growth towards verbal communication. Dear Heart, you’ve started noticing and employing non-verbal communication in a very endearing way.
The SLEEPING: The changes in your sleeping habits I largely attribute to your new-found rolling abilities. Also, I have been informed that when babies reach 8 or 9 months they tend to experience “sleep regression”, so you can imagine my joy when I found that out. We’ve not had such a great month of sleep, and by we I actually mean ME. We’re back on the “once a night wake up”, usually happening anytime between 2 am and 7am. Somehow you manage to scooch into a corner, your head stuck up against the crib railing and you’ll cry. I don’t even use the baby monitor, I can hear you even when I’m dead asleep. I’m hoping that there will be a point where you will return to your 12 hour sleep patterns, but for now, we’ll just have to get by.
Today you are playing quite contentedly with a small selection of toys in my office as I finish writing your letter. I’ve been thinking lately about all the interest surrounding “Mommy Blogging” (and when you say “Mommy Blogging” you should ALWAYS raise up your hands and form the air quotes around it): the nasty emails from odd malcontents, the Kathy Lee Giffords of the world worrying about the controversial exploitive aspect of blogging about your children, the possibility of you one day resenting your parents for journaling your life in such a public way.
I’ve come to realize that there will be a time in the future where you will resent ANYTHING I do or say. Until then, I used this format as a way to document your early life. I do this because you’ve already grown so fast that the curious little mannerisms and sounds you used to emit just mere months ago are gone, and those moments won’t be back. I do this because there are others, members of your family here in the States and even in the Netherlands who are reading about your growth everyday. I do this because I don’t want to be so consumed by making pretty websites that I miss out on even the smallest details of your development. Journaling all these little things encourages me to look and experience you and your growth in a way that I would otherwise miss.
My little sunshine baby, we have a long, lovely summer together in the months before you turn 12 months old. You already have started to take on the shape of an older baby, the kewpie roundness of you is diminishing and being replaced with the leaner physicality of a pre-toddler. So much has changed about you, and I am just crazy-in-love with you.
Don’t even get me started on your daddy, you so own him and you don’t even know it yet.
Love,
Momma