Sunday, December 21, 2008

Two Months: My Letter to Tiny Man

So we've got smiling! And one night where you slept for six hours straight! I'd say your second month was a good month, except there were those three nights of hell when you caught a cold, and since you're a man, you behaved like you were going to die if I didn't hold you all. the. time. and you refused to do anything ressembling sleep when the sun was down, instead, you chose to whine and complain and do the whole 'woe is me' routine that millions of men befor you perfected. May I remind you that a happy home starts with a happy Mama? I'm just saying.

I guess it goes to show that when you're spoiled like we have been with you, the second we get a taste of what dealing with a normal newborn would be like, we can't handle and choose to go the whine and complain route. It's the same reason that I get cranky when your brother actually behaves like a normal preschooler, because it's just not something I've had to deal with before.



You lost most of your newborn hair this past month, which meant that for a while, your father thought you looked like something from Deliverance, which if you don't get that reference, Tiny Man, don't worry, it only means you're not ancient like your father. You have started to regrow hair on the side of your head, but are left with a longer strip on top, making you look really tough and punk-like. It also means you're three years too late to look like you're copying Maddox Jolie-Pitt, but hey, I've never been good at following trends either.

You've begun to smile, although it's yet to be a regular occurence. Your brother and I try so hard to get you to smile. We'll put on puppet shows for you, have funny face contests, make high-pitched sounds that send the dog cowering under the bed, until we're giggling so hard that he gets the hiccups and I can't breathe. And during this entire time, there you are in your bouncy seat, your brow furrowed, like you are so disgusted with us and can't believe we think this simpleton humor is supposed to amuse you.



If someday you sit down and compare your brother's "My First Year" scrapbook to yours, and you wonder why there are no pictures of you smiling yet, that would be because trying to get you to smile is a little like trying to give a pissed off dragon a throat lozenge. It just ain't happening. One of your aunts thinks most pictures of you ressembles paparrazzi pictures of celebrities, where they look midly annoyed all the time. Although, in your defense, a couple of nights ago, I was holding you after you'd finished your bottle, and you were looking around the room, when suddenly, your face broke out in the biggest grin I've seen on you. We're talking corners of the mouth reaching your ears, mouth open wide enough to fit our entire house in it, tongue sticking out in the way only new babies get away with. I was stunned for a second, and then it occurred to me that this huge smile wasn't even for me, that it was at some random thing that you spotted in the room. I'm unsure as to what this thing is that caused you to smile so big, it could be a stocking, could be the lights on the trees, but really, it doesn't matter, because seriously? Are you aware that you should be clamoring for a larger share of the will and smiling at the person who carried you for nine months, the one who had to give up alcohol and sushi for that long (270 days, in case you can't do the math). Despite all of that, you smile at random objects? Oh how you break my heart little one...



You are so cute and squishy though. You've spent this past month getting fatter, and I love how your entire body has these nice big fat rolls on it, giving you all sorts of places to hide lint, dog hair and other treasures you seem to collect. You've outgrown most of your 0-3 months clothes, a feat I never thought a child of mine would get done long before his two-month birthday.



So you might have caught on a couple of paragraphs ago that I mentioned something about you finishing a bottle. And you're probably sitting there going "wh-what? I thought I was Maman's master breastfeeder." And about that? Yeah, you're not. In fact, you're so far from being a master feeder that there is no nice way for me to say it: you suck at breastfeeding. After the lactation consultant diagnosed you with Lazy Eating Syndrome, you and I were supposed to do hardcore breastfeeding bootcamp together at home. And I tried, I really did, Tiny Man. But it was hard, as things with the words bootcamp in them tend to be, and you and I were miserable and it just wasn't worth the heartache. So I took the easy way out(if strapping myself to a machine that reminds me of a vaccuum cleaner that violently sucks the milk out of me every three to four hours is considered the easy way out). Your father thinks this is the most inefficient thing I've ever done and considering how often I do inefficient things, that should really tell you something. But the way I see it, it's the best of both worlds, you get the breastmilk and I'm not repeatedly trying to latch an angry baby on only to have him get off because he's not getting anything, and switching positions every ten minutes and feeling frustrated. Last time I made an attempt at breastfeeding? You actually kicked me in the boobs. Remind me to warn your future girlfriends and tell them this story, m'kay?

The point is, we tried, but in the end, we were like those deluded American Idol auditioners, we just weren't any good. So I will do my part, for the next 10 months, to keep getting that milk out for you, and you just continue to do your part, to keep eating and getting chunkier so that I can keep attempting to swallow those chubby cheeks and thighs whole.



We're currently working on getting you to sleep in the Pack and Play by our bed, after you made it clear that the bassinette was so beneath you. There are only four places you'll sleep: your car seat (but only in the car and when the car is either moving or we are out and about, the car seat is not an acceptable place to sleep when we're at home, you've made that clear), your swing (but only if you're sleepy, or else you'll grumble forever about how you're not tired and how we need to get you NOW!), your bouncy seat and on my pillow next to me, which don't get mad at me for breaking all of the SIDS laws, you're the one who's decided this was where you like to sleep best. The last few nights, we've managed to get you to sleep the first half of the night in the Pack and Play and the second half of the night in your swing. To me, this is a success worthy of a Nobel Prize, because you are mighty, mighty stubborn, my Tiny Man.



You're also extremely active. I'm not sure if it's because you've watched The Biggest Loser with me every week and you share my crush on Jillian the trainer, but everytime I put you down on your blanket, you begin to pump your arms and legs and make these grunting noises, like you're getting one hell of a workout. You tend never to just lay there like a blob, the way I remember your brother doing, not you, you just pump, pump, pump, until you've pumped so hard that you managed to scoot yourself completely off the blanket. I suspect this is your way of trying to make a run for it, you probably think to yourself "DAMN IT! How did the woman catch up to me," every time I pick you up to put you back on the blanket.

I've spent many hours since you were born playing with your little fingers, your little toes, nuzzling your neck and cradling you on my shoulder. I want you to know that I've enjoyed every single lazy minute with you. I love that you're becoming more alert now and stay awake for longer periods of time. I love telling you stories and watching your brow furrow, as you probably think to yourself "I hear she's a Democrat, surely no woman who gave birth to me could be such a thing," because I'm more and more convinced that you don't just look like your Daddy, you're a hell of a lot like him too.



Which might not be such a bad thing, after all, I married the man.

I love you, my Tiny Man,

Maman.

8 comments:

Susan said...

Catwoman, what a great letter and the pictures are absolutely adorable. I can't believe he's already two months old! He'll smile if you give him alcohol and sushi...

Burgh Baby said...

How did two months manage to sneak by so quickly? Even Tiny Man is pissed about the time flying so fast. Just look at his face, it's all, "What's the rush?"

eda said...

thnks

CPA Mom said...

two months already??? Those pics are to die for cute!! I want to pick him up and smoosh those cheeks! The memories these bring back...

alperenl said...

thnks

Emma in Canada said...

Don't worry about the scrapbook thing...he won't care. His wife might wonder though.

I totally have a crush on Bob. He's some sexy. And not as mean as Jillian, who would make me cry.

squishytushy said...

Your letters make me wish I wrote letters to my kids. You're awesome and Tiny Man is freakin' adorable!

Rachel said...

Oh he's gettin so big! And definitely looks like his big brother!