Today you are a month old, or four weeks, but I can’t ever tell what the difference is. The numbers are not always Mommy’s friends – and Daddy will totally back me up on that.
It’s been a really long month that’s now gone by awfully fast. You’ve gone from inside to outside, blurry-eyed to close-up vision, wanting to be swaddled like a little burrito to needing your unbelievably busy hands completely free.
Your hands are a constant source of amusement and frustration for all who try to feed you. At any given time of day or night the following phrase can be heard, “Enough with the hands, dude! They aren’t helping you get this food right now.” But still, you wave them around violently occasionally slapping yourself upside your head. Then we put the bottle in your mouth. It’s a process.
You’ve got about four or five standards noises right now – and most of them cause your father to bolt upright out of bed at all hours of the night to check on you. The least attractive is the incessant snorting. The cutest is the little “LA!” you let out when your diaper is being changed. I don’t know what “LA” is, but I’m guessing it’s something along the line of “Hey! Watch the sack – it’s sensitive – and I’m still waiting for the other nut to show up.” Or something like that.
You still continue to give the cutest, wettest kisses when we burp you. And you are fiercely holding your head up in an attempt to shatter all developmental milestone records. But the combination of both of these makes your eyes cross – and that is still funny.
Your dad and I are very thankful you are basically an easy-going baby. We remember how awful the early days were with your sister, Swimmy and her reflux. We sometimes muse you’re easier because we’ve already been through the hard stuff and nothing is a mystery any more, but I think it’s more because you were truly born on a four-hour eating schedule. But we are definitely looking forward to the time when you lose that middle of the night feeding. We loves you, but we loves our sleep as well. Make a note of it.
Along those lines, I must tell you that your sister loves you, but probably thinks you’ve ruined her life right now. And you kind of have – but the damage that’s been done is kinda like a doctor telling the patient he has to re-break the bone in order for it to heal. The process is unbelievably painful, but the results are worth it. Don’t worry, her fascination with your diapers and her hurt feelings about not being the complete center of attention will subside and in their place will be a great friendship between the two of you. At least that’s what we tell ourselves in order to sleep at night.
You are Mommy and Daddy’s only son, the last grandchild, and the last person that will drive the Pfluftagus over the edge. Each milestone you reach is the last time we will get to watch that happen. But your life is not bittersweet – it is blessed – blessed with friends and family and love and laughter and we are all so glad you are here and a part of it all.
Month One. Done.