Month four: letter to our son

My dearest son:

As I told you before, I probably won’t be consistent at this newsletter thing. I’m too busy spending time with you, drinking in your eyes, mouth, fingers, and toes. I can’t get enough of your sweet smile, your dimples, and your giggles.

little hands will build big things one day

This weekend, we heard you laugh in your sleep. It was one of the most precious things we’ve heard. Ever. And I heard it again last night. I’m still mopping up the puddle of goo from my side of the bed, where I melted.

You are a snuggle bug. When I take a nap with you, you plaster yourself next to me. When I put my hand on you, you stroke my arm. But when your feet are pointed my way, watch out. You love to kick. You grin madly, flail your arms, and kick with abandon. You look like a little running man, but with no traction. It’s seriously cute. And you think it’s hilarious. So we let you kick us. Daddy and I both know we’ll regret that later.

Through your eyes

I’m a little scared of your poop right now. I’m poop shy. You tend to fill your diaper up after eating, which is pretty typical. But last Saturday, after you pooped, I opened your diaper to change it. You started to pee a little as I wiped up the mess, so I covered you back up, getting poop all over you again the process. And then I heard a dreaded rumbling, and you started pooping again. At that point, I could only pray that you didn’t have gas, too. You finished, and I got ready to wipe again. You started pooping again. At that point, I got a little nervous that you’d start kicking and either get your foot in the mess or move the diaper and release a poop avalanche. I held onto your feet for dear life and you pooped yet again. At that point, I’m just praying the sides of the diaper catch everything, as I was changing you on our bed. On my side, no less. I must have used 15 wipes to clean everything up. I prayed the whole time: please don’t poop again, please don’t fart, please don’t poop any more! I’m still traumatized from it. When I hear you poop now, I cringe. Will the diaper hold? Who knew one little baby could produce so much poop all at once?

But I’ll manage anyway, because that’s what mommies do.

Time is picking up speed, and the days with you are starting to pass much faster than I would like. Right now we’re your favorite people in the whole world. You wake up with a smile for us. You grin when Daddy gets home from work and says hello to his boy.

typical guy - already hogs the remote

I knew I would love you. I always have. But I didn’t know what an absolute joy you would be. I can’t get enough of you. I could stay home all day and do nothing but entertain myself with you, go for walks, play peek-a-boo. It just doesn’t get old. I hope it continues for as long as possible, this inability to get enough of you. I live for that smile, those snuggles, these giggles. I imprint them with indelible ink on my memory.

Love,
Mama

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