Friday, February 20, 2009

Four Months: My Letter to Tiny Man

With a new President in power, it seems the onus is on what the first 100 days of his presidency will mean for the country. I mention this only to see if the mention of a Democratic president will make you twitch nervously like it does to your dad, but also because I just realized that 24 days ago, we reached the 100 day milestone of havig you in our lives.



What did we do to mark the occasion that day, you ask? Couldn't tell you. But I'm sure it involved the usual, which is you smiling, me feeding you repeatedly, you smiling some more, you filling diapers, you smiling some more, me trying to swallow you whole, you smiling some more, you yelling at me for not putting you down for a nap. Because this is what I've discovered about having a second child. The neglect is absolutely horrible, as when it came to your brother's infancy, his naps were this sacred event, never to be disturbed by anything. The house could have been burning down around me during your brother's naps, and still I would have refused to go anywhere. But you? You, my poor second born, are stuck getting toted around places, so that you are forced to nap in car seats and bouncy seats. And when we are home for naps, because you are still not on any kind of daytime schedule, you'll play with us until you can't play anymore, and then you'll yell at us to let us know that you need your freaking sleep, people! And we'll put you down in your crib, where you'll usually let out a sigh of relief that your demands were met.



However, the nights, oh the glorious nights, are a completely different story. You usually begin rubbing your eyes and asking to go to bed around 7:15. At 7:45 on the dot, I pour your bath and we play this game where I try to take your shirt off and you fold your arms while grinning ear to ear so that I have to tug the shirt while rolling you side to side to get it loose. This always makes you laugh and I love that laughter comes so easy for us. In your bath, you'll happily sit in the tub for hours if I'd let you. And then comes my favorite part, where I cover you from head to toe in moisturizing cream, since you started getting eczema this month. And your favorite part is when I rub your feet. While I'm putting cream on your face, you hold both of your feet up as high as you can, grunting at me, smiling at me. And I grin at you while putting cream on your shoulders. And you sigh at me, your feet raised even higher, your grunting even louder. When I finally get to putting cream on your feet, you pump your chubby little arms so hard, that I often think they're just going to fly out of their socket. And so I rub cream on those little feet, your little toes curling around my fingers as I do it. The truth is that as much as you enjoy it, I enjoy it 10 times as much.



When I put you down in the evenings after your last bottle of the night, I always turn on your little musical sea horse and once you go to sleep, that's it, you sleep through the night, never to be heard again until 7 the next morning. Yesterday, in fact, I had to wake you at 7:15, because I had to get you ready for school. Of course, I say this, but today, a Saturday I should mention, you decided to wake up at 5 a.m. and would not go back to sleep even though we promised you a pony and Ferrari if you would. For the record, most people on their birthdays like to sleep in. I figure I'll get even with you the day after you 21st birthday by waking you up at 5 a.m. No really, no need to thank me.

Now I know every parent thinks their child is brilliant, but the thing is? I know for a fact that you are. Because I'm not sure there are any babies your age in this world who can not only self soothe when they wake up, but do so by scooting themselves around their crib so that their feet are close enough to their sea horses. You see, my brilliant child, you do this so that you are able to kick start your sea horse's music again, therefore getting yourself back to sleep. A few times this month, your father and I were awoken to the sounds of a lullabye and when we'd get up, there you were, fast asleep. One night, right before we went to bed, you woke up, grunted and your father and I watched you on the monitor, clear as day, moving around to be able to start your toy. To say we were impressed would be a clear understatement.



You go to daycare three days a week, and your teachers always talk about how long you sleep when you're there. I'm not sure if this is because they swaddle you like a white boy burrito, or if it's because you're so exhausted from having to be in a house of inconsiderate ingrates who won't put you on a good daytime schedule, that daycare has turned into your personal spa.



You seem to know when we're getting ready for school. I'm not sure if you spot your diaper bag or if you notice that I'm showered, hair down instead of in a pony tail and have mascara on. Either way, you always let out these squeals of delight, like you're saying "holy crap! I'm going to that place! The place with all the girls! The place that actually puts me down for naps without being asked!" This makes it easier for me to drop you off in the morning, because I know you're happy.

Of course, with your happy temperament, I could probably leave you at the pound every morning, and you'd still be happy. In fact, it's difficult for me to come up with anything that truly makes you unhappy.



You look so much like your father. So much so, that your nickname at school is Little Daddy. I think this secretly makes your dad happy as hell. Oh, who am I kidding. There's no secretly about it. Every time somebody tells your dad you look like him, his head gets just a little bigger.

This month you've discovered your feet. And not only have you discovered them, you've fallen madly in love with them. Socked feet are fine, but bare feet, oh the pleasure of bare feet, when I uncover them for you, right away, you snatch both of them in your hand and shoot me this look that probably means "if you take them away from me again, I'll make sure every single poopy diaper leaks."



Your personality is erupting right now, which is just a joy to watch. Even though you've only been with us just over 100 days, it feels like you've been in my heart a lifetime. I'm so glad you joined our family.

I love you, my Tiny Man,

Maman.

8 comments:

monsters' momma said...

*love*

the planet of janet said...

you DO know how lucky you are with this one, don't you?

Haphazardkat said...

Gorgeous little man!!! Seriously. Gorgeous.

Loukia said...

So beautiful, your post. And your son, way too cute. Sigh!

A's Mom said...

The stuff you come up with for these letters is just brilliant. And the story about the sea horse... incredible!

Burgh Baby said...

My uterus just erupted. Too. much. cuteness.

That Chick Over There said...

Gah! He's so beautiful. I can say a boy is beautiful right? Cause he is.

Trannyhead said...

So ... much ... cuteness ... am ... dying ... gah! CUTENESS!

Makes me want another one!