Newsletter: Month Four

Dear Ian, Tuesday you turned four months old and as your Grandma said, you're not a baby anymore, you're a little boy! I have been writing this for the last three days, so I think we're finally getting to the point where days blur together. I feel like the next newsletter I'll be writing to you, you'll be getting your driver's license.

Yesterday we took you for your 4 month check up and you did great! You're 17 pounds now and still well in the 95th percentile for height. Already you're getting used to the sleeves being too short on all your clothes. Study hard and get a good job so you can afford shirts and pants that fit!

I took the afternoon off so that we could cuddle after your vaccinations, but you were a real trooper. You hardly fussed once we got home and after a three hour nap, you woke up all giggles and smiles. I live for those kinds of days.

You've been rolling over like a champ now, and it's hard to keep you on your back for long. This makes diaper changing a bit more adventurous as you try to wedge yourself into the railing. Just this week you've started sleeping on your belly, usually with your butt in the air. You can easily hold your head up and are working on little baby push ups.

We've also finally gotten to where you can fit in a simple sling. When you were a month old it was like trying to hold Jello in a bag as you slid and wiggled everywhere. But now you just pop right in. This would be great for carrying you around except that you weigh 17 pounds (!) so all that weight on one shoulder kills me!

You're chatty and smiley and all around good-natured. We're still having our daily lunch dates over at day care and it's something I look forward to very much. Soon enough we'll be past that stage, so I consider myself lucky to get this much time with you.

You have a killer grip on anything you can get a hold of, and usually that involve my shirt while I'm trying to change your diaper. You get this really serious look on your face when you grab me, like "WAIT! Let's talk this over. We don't have to resort to baby wipes, do we?"

Speaking of talking, you have "discovered your voice" as they say in those baby books. Last night while the Olympics were on TV, you sat in your chair and squealed at the hockey players! It was hard to tell the difference between you and your father.

We have lots of debates over who you look like. I should really start a survey. You certainly have your father's barrel chest. And you have your mother's complexion. We'll see if you keep up this enthusiasm for hockey. But I know you're my kid because we both think farts are hilarious.

Love, Mama

Empty hours

It's 3am and I'm wide awake. Rich has a cold so he's tossing and turning and frowning in his sleep. So I'm curled up with Ian and studying every part of him while he sleeps. It reminds me of nights when Rich and I had our relationship stretched across 85 miles of highway. It was one of the last times I've felt such a strong urge to stop the clock. Rich and I used to talk about wanting "empty hours" where we didn't have a countdown until our next separation.

And now, in the middle of the night, I'm pining for empty hours again. I lie here on our flannel sheet protector covered in drool and sweat telling myself to pay attention to our perfect son. Remember what he smells like. Trace the curve of his shoulder and remember how soft his skin is. Listen to every breath and murmur as if they held a secret message.

Ian is sleeping with his belly pressed up against mine, his little legs tangled in mine, his fist tucked under his chin. Rich is quietly snoring behind me. The house is quiet. There's a kitty at the foot of the bed.

This is what forever should feel like. Even if I only can have a few more hours of it tonight.

Newsletter: Month Three

Dear Ian, Today you turn three months old and it's been a hectic month. We sailed through Christmas and New Years and you were a big hit for those festivities. On New Years Eve, your daddy and I went to see Avatar in all its 3D magnificence while you stayed home with Grandma and Grandaddy. I was hesitant to leave you because you'd been fussy all day. I fidgeted in the theatre line and considered calling several times but was afraid I'd start crying if I heard you crying. I'm glad your father was driving home because after being away from you for four hours, I was ready to break a lot of traffic laws to get home as soon as possible. We walked in the door and you were limp in your Grandaddy's arms, droopy-eyed with fatigue. It was a rough evening for us both, but we soon were snoozing in the recliner.

We took our first overnight trip with you that next weekend as we trekked to northern Virginia to see all your aunts and uncles. There was a waiting list to hold you and you behaved like a perfect little angel all weekend. I was very proud of you.

It's been a big month of firsts. First movie night for your parents, first sleepover at the Smiths, first day at day care, first cold (thanks to day care), first plane trip, first hotel room and first conference. It's a lot to keep track of!

Day care is working out well for you. All the ladies there are sweet to you and you seem happy. Your poor mother is a wreck, but that's another story. We at least get to visit at lunch every day and you're only across the street from work. You did pick up a bit of a cough that first week, but took the whole thing in stride. I worried about traveling with you if you were sick, but you didn't let it get you down. Let's hope you inherited your grandmother's talent for cheeriness in the face of adversity.

This last weekend, your father and I had to go to a conference in Boston. I couldn't bear the idea of being away from you for four days, so Grandma got to go on her first plane ride in decades and helped us tend to you over the weekend. It all went amazingly well and you were an expert flyer both there and back. Our colleagues had asked me to bring pictures, so it was a real treat to bring an actual baby in the flesh instead.

This last month going back to work has been hard on your mama. You may notice a distinct lack of updates on this web site as it's been hard to rally for much writing. It's been hard to rally in general. Your grandaddy called last night and claimed that "Mom says I should come see Ian because he's a lot more interactive." I suspect that Grandaddy was being a bit mopey about the house and Grandma hoped that a visit with his grandson might cheer him up. I told him we were out but I'd come by once we got home. He acted like it wasn't a big deal, but when he saw you come through the door and grin for him, his whole demeanor changed. He spent a good 30 minutes just squeezing you and laughing, saying over and over "he's just so awesome."

So while things are tough for me and your Grandaddy right now, there are still bright spots. It's as if you know when we're feeling down and you really lay on the charm for us. It's amazing to me how much power you have over other people for someone who has trouble holding his own head up. Thank you for cheering me up, little buddy.

Love, Mama