It’s 7 p.m. on your three-month birthday and I just laid you down to sleep. We’ve been taking a picture of you on the seventh of each month, but this month we'll be one day late. The little photo shoot I planned for this evening was derailed by a hysterical milk meltdown after your bath. And then, once your belly was full, you were so sleepy that I couldn’t keep your eyes open for photos. You’re happiest in the mornings, so we’ll just try again after you wake up tomorrow.
|Hooray! We had a happy and awake boy this morning. July 8, 2011|
|Chatting with auntie Em at the cabin. July 5, 2011|
Your salivary glands have found their “on” switch. You drool -- a lot. Your daddy and I were caught a little off guard by this, because it happened so suddenly. You were a dry, clean baby one day, and a spit monster the next. You have figured out how to blow raspberries through your sea of slobber and it’s pretty funny to watch you crack yourself up. You have a true laugh now and hearing your giggle completely lights up my world. I love watching you delight in your own antics.
You’re still exclusively breast fed and I hope to be able to continue this until you’re six months old -- and beyond that, too, but in combination with solid food. We found a daycare for you next to daddy’s office, so when I go back to work in five weeks, I’ll be pumping milk for you during the day. I’m glad we found a safe and loving place for you to be while we’re at work, but it makes me very sad to not be able to stay with you myself. For now, I’m trying to soak up every minute of every day. Sometimes I just look at you and feel so overwhelmed with love that I burst into tears at the thought of someone else taking care of you. I know it will get easier with time, but right now that’s really hard to imagine. I’ve never felt so protective over something or someone -- and never could even have closely imagined these feelings until you arrived. Having you has made me realize how much my own parents love me. You’ve already taught me an amazing amount about life in your short three months.
We spent Fourth of July weekend at Samish Island with auntie Emily, uncle Peter, and the Cole and Keeton families. Watching all the homemade floats and classic cars in the annual parade was so much fun. I can’t wait until you’re big enough to scramble after the candy along with all of the other kids. As usual, the entire island was under siege with an abundance of highly illegal, ridiculously loud, and very scary (to me, at least) homemade bombs and, thankfully, some incredibly beautiful fireworks. For the most part, you slept through the entire night, with just a few startles. We were counting our blessings, to say the least.
Yesterday, July 6, was one of the warmest days of the year, topping out in the low 80s (we haven’t had much of a summer). You were so hot and uncomfortable, and the only place you wanted to be was in my arms. I had you stripped down to your diaper, which made things a little better. Every time I needed to get something done, though, and set you down in your bouncy chair or swing, you started crying. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but the second I would turn to pick you up, you’d flash a huge grin, blow a raspberry at me, and start laughing. I immediately was butter in your hands and did whatever you wanted. You finally fell asleep on my chest, laying on the couch. I stole a few extra minutes of snuggle time because I figure those special times are limited and I should eat them all up before they disappear.
But even when you’re grown and don’t want to snuggle with me anymore, you’ll still be my baby. You’ll always be my baby. No matter what.
I love you,