3 months
Dear Hazel,
Today you are three months old.
In just the last week or so, you have exploded with new skills - or, as your papa calls them, tricks. You have discovered your voice. You are HAPPY and you are LOUD. The first time I heard you making your loud happy noises, I yelled at your papa to pick you up and comfort. “She’s not upset,” he told me. “I came to investigate for myself, and sure enough, you were happy and dimply. Now I can tell the difference between your happy screams and your made screams. Both are ear-splitting, but the happy screams are much more fun.
You have been using your voice a lot to carry on conversations with me. I find it unbearably charming and keep trying to get it on video. Every time I pull out the Flip, though, you clam up and stare in fascination at the camera. I still only managed to get small clips of your wonderful voice.
You can also roll over. The first time I saw you on your tummy, I flipped. I hadn’t seen you roll over, but there you were, clearly on your tummy, fussing a bit to find your world upside down.
I hollered for your papa and made him come see.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “She did that this morning.”
“And you didn't tell me!?!”
“I didn’t know it was a big deal. And it kinda freaked me out.”
Right. Next time tell the mama.
The day that rolled over was, coincidentally, the same day I had to go back to work. Leaving you was hard. Papa stayed home to make the transition a little easier. There were some tears (mine) when I left. You, however, took it all in stride. You do well with your Papa and Suzanne, who watches you while we are both at work.
Suzanne also nurses you when you are with her, because you still refuse to take a bottle. You have decided that bottles are for suckers, thank you very much, and would like your milk straight from the tap.
When you are home with Papa, you have just been waiting for me to get home to eat. I guess it’s nice to be needed, but you sure would make life a little simpler if you took a bottle. Of course, we never wanted a baby because it was going to be simple.
That said, you are pretty simple. Well, not simple, you are amazing complex and fabulous. What you are really is easy. (I feel the urge to knock on wood here.) Straight-forward. Charming. You are an amazingly happy baby. You smile a lot. You only cry when you really need something. You are laid back and fun.
You still have strong feelings about certain things. The car seat still isn’t your favorite, although you are getting more used to it. You don’t like to sleep alone. You don’t like to sleep on your back. All the doctors and research say to put you to sleep on your back. I diligently try, but you just roll yourself over to sleep on your side. Oh, fine, kid. I understand. I don’t like to sleep on my back, either.
You do like your fingers. You suck on your fingers, not your thumb. Usually it’s the first two fingers, but sometimes it’s the middle two, and I find that hilarious. I even risked waking a sleeping baby to get a picture of you doing it. The flash didn’t bother you at all. Both you and your papa slept through it. Two of a kind.
You visited with Alli and Suzanne today with me. You find Alli fascinating and stare at her and smile at her often. Maybe you just enjoy that she is the closest thing you often see to a person your size. It probably doesn’t hurt that she is fascinated by you, too. A few more years and the two of you are going to be playing constantly, and getting into all sorts of trouble. I look forward to seeing you grow up together.
In the last month, you’ve had a lot of fun. You’ve been to Mount St. Helens. You visited Great Aunt Sandy and Ron. You met a horse and a mule. You took your first trip to Canada. You took a hike. You camped in a tent in a rainstorm.
Each day I fall in love with you a little more. I think I always will. I keep thinking I couldn’t fall for you any harder, and then I do.
You make life complicated, slow and messy. But I can deal with a dirty house. Playing with you is so much better than sweeping the floors. When you are sleeping curled up next to me, or smiling and cooing at me, I try to burn the moment in my brain. I want to always remember these early months with you. Getting to know you is so exciting and I can’t wait to see who you become in the months and years to come.
Thank you for being my baby.
Love,
Mama
P.S. In a month you will be four months, and that means we can start swimming lessons. I am counting down days. Now I just need to find you a class and register. I’d better do that, because I’d sure like to start the moment you turn four months. Given how you love the tub, I think you’re gonna take to swimming like, well, like a fish to water.
Today you are three months old.
In just the last week or so, you have exploded with new skills - or, as your papa calls them, tricks. You have discovered your voice. You are HAPPY and you are LOUD. The first time I heard you making your loud happy noises, I yelled at your papa to pick you up and comfort. “She’s not upset,” he told me. “I came to investigate for myself, and sure enough, you were happy and dimply. Now I can tell the difference between your happy screams and your made screams. Both are ear-splitting, but the happy screams are much more fun.
You have been using your voice a lot to carry on conversations with me. I find it unbearably charming and keep trying to get it on video. Every time I pull out the Flip, though, you clam up and stare in fascination at the camera. I still only managed to get small clips of your wonderful voice.
You can also roll over. The first time I saw you on your tummy, I flipped. I hadn’t seen you roll over, but there you were, clearly on your tummy, fussing a bit to find your world upside down.
I hollered for your papa and made him come see.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “She did that this morning.”
“And you didn't tell me!?!”
“I didn’t know it was a big deal. And it kinda freaked me out.”
Right. Next time tell the mama.
The day that rolled over was, coincidentally, the same day I had to go back to work. Leaving you was hard. Papa stayed home to make the transition a little easier. There were some tears (mine) when I left. You, however, took it all in stride. You do well with your Papa and Suzanne, who watches you while we are both at work.
Suzanne also nurses you when you are with her, because you still refuse to take a bottle. You have decided that bottles are for suckers, thank you very much, and would like your milk straight from the tap.
When you are home with Papa, you have just been waiting for me to get home to eat. I guess it’s nice to be needed, but you sure would make life a little simpler if you took a bottle. Of course, we never wanted a baby because it was going to be simple.
That said, you are pretty simple. Well, not simple, you are amazing complex and fabulous. What you are really is easy. (I feel the urge to knock on wood here.) Straight-forward. Charming. You are an amazingly happy baby. You smile a lot. You only cry when you really need something. You are laid back and fun.
You still have strong feelings about certain things. The car seat still isn’t your favorite, although you are getting more used to it. You don’t like to sleep alone. You don’t like to sleep on your back. All the doctors and research say to put you to sleep on your back. I diligently try, but you just roll yourself over to sleep on your side. Oh, fine, kid. I understand. I don’t like to sleep on my back, either.
You do like your fingers. You suck on your fingers, not your thumb. Usually it’s the first two fingers, but sometimes it’s the middle two, and I find that hilarious. I even risked waking a sleeping baby to get a picture of you doing it. The flash didn’t bother you at all. Both you and your papa slept through it. Two of a kind.
You visited with Alli and Suzanne today with me. You find Alli fascinating and stare at her and smile at her often. Maybe you just enjoy that she is the closest thing you often see to a person your size. It probably doesn’t hurt that she is fascinated by you, too. A few more years and the two of you are going to be playing constantly, and getting into all sorts of trouble. I look forward to seeing you grow up together.
In the last month, you’ve had a lot of fun. You’ve been to Mount St. Helens. You visited Great Aunt Sandy and Ron. You met a horse and a mule. You took your first trip to Canada. You took a hike. You camped in a tent in a rainstorm.
Each day I fall in love with you a little more. I think I always will. I keep thinking I couldn’t fall for you any harder, and then I do.
You make life complicated, slow and messy. But I can deal with a dirty house. Playing with you is so much better than sweeping the floors. When you are sleeping curled up next to me, or smiling and cooing at me, I try to burn the moment in my brain. I want to always remember these early months with you. Getting to know you is so exciting and I can’t wait to see who you become in the months and years to come.
Thank you for being my baby.
Love,
Mama
P.S. In a month you will be four months, and that means we can start swimming lessons. I am counting down days. Now I just need to find you a class and register. I’d better do that, because I’d sure like to start the moment you turn four months. Given how you love the tub, I think you’re gonna take to swimming like, well, like a fish to water.