Month Four

Dear RR,

Month four should be prefaced with the fact that I’m writing the very first draft of it right now.  Usually, I keep these things on file in a working draft as you do charming, wonderful, irritating, and groundbreaking things.  It’s not to say you haven’t done those things during this last month, as much as it says… well, sorry RR.  I hate to break it to you.  But this last month, the world hasn’t revolved around you.  What!?  I know.  Sorry about that.  There is an Easter Bunny, though, right?

Your mom and I have been busy – alternately working early, working late, working hard, and spending countless hours in the bathroom thanks to stomach-flu-palooza.  We’ve also entertained a visit from your wolf-like cousins, who raided the fridge in disbelief looking for soda when we told them all we had to drink was milk and water.  What are we, mormons??  No offense, mormons.  Some of my closest friends are mormons.

Back to the crap/puka-palooze.  RR, we’ve never all been so sick.  This house has never smelled so very bad.  And we sustained on Gatorade, chicken soup, and Jell0 for too many weeks.  We washed your pajamas every other minute.  We relied on your friends here (helloooo internet friends) for countless amounts of bowel-related advice.  I imported your aunt to have birthday cake with me on my birthday so that I wasn’t faced with the task of eating an entire ice cream cake, only to throw most of it up days later.  October, RR, until this point, has been a blur.

In between the blurry moments, though, you donated countless, predictable smiles and laughing snorts to the cause.  You love it when we blow raspberries on your belly.  You think that’s hi-larious.  Thanks again to your friends, you may actually have some toys to play with by the end of the month.  What crazy talk, I know!  You have also embraced, what we call, the “turn in” nap, which happens as soon as you get home from school.  This consists of laying in the crook of your mom’s arm, turned into her with a pacifier in your mouth – you zonk out almost immediately.

You’re thinking about a lot of things, but have yet to follow-through, which is OK by us.  Things like… not being swaddled anymore, sleeping in your own room (and not in the co-sleeper crib in ours), and rolling over (front to back, back to front).  RR, I’m afraid you already have commitment issues.  You’ve started having these lengthy conversations between 5am-6am, and I can’t seem to find your snooze button. You’re not hungry (yet), it’s not light out (yet), but there you are contemplating philosophy with your swaddle gripped tight in your hands.

Oh, your grip, RR.  Your grip that grips hair, glasses, toys, bottles, pacifiers (frustratingly and unintentionally pulling them out of your mouth), your pants, the bottom of your shirt… hell, anything that you can grasp, you hold on for dear life.  If we don’t keep on top of your nail clipping, you will CUT a bitch.  Vicious!

You spent your four month birthday here alone with me, as your mama left us sometime yesterday afternoon to go to a conference three hours away.  I remember when she asked me, sometime long ago while you were in utero, if her going to this conference would be OK.  I remember thinking – we’ll have a four month old, sure!  Go!  We’ve made it more than 30 hours, and we’re both fed, dressed, somewhat rested, and not covered in any bodily fluids.  I’d say this is a win, kid.  That’s not to say we’re not counting the hours until she comes back, right?  (19) Right.

Love,
Mom

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Posted on October 25, 2010, in letters to rr. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. and you did beautifully.

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