Friday, June 20, 2008

Minus Four Months: My Letter to Tiny Man

Around the time you will be three months old, you will get to discover like your big brother before you the greatness that is American Idol. I say this a little sarcastically, because a deep part of me doesn't care for the show and the fact that some barely talented kids are forced to sing motown hits. But another part of me gets sucked in by the show, and ever since your brother was born, it has gotten worse, simply because it was the only thing that would stop his incessant wails when he was a very young baby with an attitude problem.

The reason I bring up American Idol, is that this season was the best season yet, because of the sheer brilliance of David Cook, one of its participants. I know no child ever wants to hear this, but David Cook made your Mama want to throw her bra on stage at him and want to have his babies. One performance in particular turned me into a big pile of blubbering mess, to the point that your big brother became concerned that I was hurt, and that was when David Cook covered "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face".

I've always loved that song, but a few years ago, a company that created the first 3-D ultrasound machine used it in one of their commercials, and the song took on a different meaning.

Earlier this week, David Cook's version of the song played in my head, as I had an ultrasound at the perinatologist's office, and her top-of-the-line machine allowed us to see your features just clear as day, including your little pouty lips, the curve of your nose, the way you sucked the fingers from your left hand. There you were. My sweet, sweet boy, cozy inside of me, not a care in the world and no idea that in a few short months, you will be part of a world insane enough to have almost let David Archuletta win American Idol.

A part of me wants to cradle you like this forever. Keep you inside of me so that you can't get hurt, so that you never have to shed a single tear when you discover how cruel the world can be, where tables you bend under don't move when you get back up, or dogs steal your popsicles when you don't look. Ask your brother, and he will tell you that it's tough out here.

But another part of me counts the days until your appearance with great anticipation, knowing that soon, I will get to cradle you in my arms, and show you off to the world and inhale your baby scent and feel skin softer than the wings of butterflies. And I can't wait for you to meet your big brother, because I really do think that as far as big brothers go, you have got yourself a really good one kid. One who is funny, sweet and who will probably try to force feed you mint chocolate chip ice cream within a week of your birth, because he really is good at sharing.

One concern though. It seems that you have decided to go and pick from the gene pool some genes that have not been used by generations. And those would be the tall gene. In case you're not aware of this, we're a fairly short family. Your dad's only 5'9" and I tower with my 5'3 1/2". Your brother was in the fifth percentile for height and weight when he was born, so that he wore preemie-sized clothes the first three weeks of his life. His newborn-sized going home outfit made him look like a little malnourished orphan.

But you are somehow striving on my diet of string cheese and soy milk and you were 15 ounces at my 20-week ultrasound. I was in shock and told the doctor that I'd read online that you should be around 10-11 ounces at this stage. She nodded and said "yup, he's just a big boy." And then came the kicker: you are currently in the 97th percentile. Do you realize this means that only 3 percent of kids are bigger than you? And I'm assuming they are all either the spawn of the Incredible Hulk or basketball players. Just where did you come from?

Are you going to be as big as your brother by your first birthday? If so, I pray that you are as sweet as him so that I don't have to go through band aids for him at an even faster pace, because seriously, I would like to retire some day.

It seems ironic now that your chosen nickname has become Tiny Man, because it seems that you will be anything but. I guess I only have to wait four more months and then all of your secrets will be revealed.

Can I tell you again that I can't wait?

Love,

Your Maman.

15 comments:

random_mommy said...

I can't wait either!!!

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

You rock my world with your always amazing writing.

Susan@stopcallingmethat said...

That was me, the fucktard that can't even publish a comment correctly. I love your blog - you're an amazing writer!

Susan@stopcallingmethat said...

What I tried to say was, "How beautiful is that? You gave me goose bumps"! Trying again...

Morgan said...

Awww. You write so wonderfully!

Emma in Canada said...

Your letters to both Little Man and Tiny Man are so sweet.

Sophie can literally beat the crap out of her older sister. I hope that Little Man can hold his own against his baby brother, because Saoirse is a big wuss!

AnGlOpHiLe FoOtBaLl FaNaTiC said...

I can't wait to meet him! And, Tuesday, right?

the planet of janet said...

what a lovely letter to your son!

justmylife said...

Beautifully written! You are so talented!!!

Colleen said...

that was so incredibly sweet.

I've a funny feeling that Cooper (75th percentile) will be as big as Gavin (10th percentile) in 2 years. Sounds like it may be the same at your house. :D And a 4D sonogram, huh? little bit jealous. my insurance laughed when I asked for one...

p.s. we love mint choc. chip ice cream too, though Gavin sometimes calls it melon chocolate chip cookie. yeah, he gets a little confused. ;)

Jordan said...

Ahhhh, so excited for (Not So) Tiny Man!

Oh, and of course there are "Catwoman devotees"! ... we're just a *little* shy :)

squishytushy said...

Love your letters so very much... except they always make my recaps seem so very lame and, umm, un-deep.

FYI, not-so-tiny babies... especially those with rolls & rolls... and wayyy cuter than skinny babies. And I can say that cuz I've got one of each. I just didn't know how much cuter fat ones were cuz my skinny one was first. And now? They are 20 months apart, and weigh the EXACT SAME. She may be older, but he can kick the snot outta her.

And David Cook... ahhhh.... dreamy.

mcas said...

thanks for the welcome! blogland is less of an icy swimming pool now, more like a slightly warm jacuzzi. lovely letter also, as they always are! my mother wrote me letters as well, and so take it from me when i say he'll definitely appreciate them if you ever decide to share them with him!

oy long comment.

monster's momma said...

*love* can't wait to meet tiny man.
email me!

Marmarbug said...

I am loving this post. Lovin it.