Ten pounds! I celebrate your hugeness all while cradling your tiny body in a single arm. This month has brought you the understanding of day versus night and I get to see your eyes more while the sun is up. You have now pooped on your Daddy four times. Thank you, Dexter, for not extending me the same courtesy.
Speaking of poop (well, let’s face it, that is one of your three main activities these days), you make the Blue Steel face when you’re trying so hard to push one out. Remind me to watch Zoolander with you when you’re old enough so you can appreciate the similarities in the pictures we’ve taken.
It hasn’t been easy for me. After 3 hours of crying, it’s all I can do not to sit you in your swing and run for the door. Sometimes I doubt myself about this mom stuff, but I hope you never doubt that I’ll keep trying.
I tell you constantly that you are smart and strong, and you prove me right when you lift your little head off my shoulder and push yourself half off my lap with your kickboxer legs. You are smart. You are strong.
When you stare at my face and wave your right hand around, I’m tempted to turn an ear your way. One day soon I’ll get to hear the story you are desperate to tell me. Until then I will have to settle for those quiet moments when it’s just you and me in the rocker at 2am. You nestle yourself under my chin and grunt yourself to sleep. I might dream of 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, my son. But I could sit in that rocker all night.
Happy One Month.
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