Levedy

3 Months

Bean-

Tomorrow you turn 3 months old. This month’s theme has been “pooping in public.” You have created a hobby for yourself of not pooping for three days straight, and when we go out in public, you make up for lost time by…well…let’s just say I’ve had to provide Viking-style burials for several onesies.

You like to poop when your onesies feature poultry. Chicks, ducks, and parrots are all vulnerable to…erm…requiring Viking burials. Does it make me a bad person to intentionally dress you in feathered friends when you go to your Yiayia’s house?

You have a rough schedule that works out pretty well. On most nights, we give you a bath at 8:00, feed you, and pop you in your crib. You’re usually pretty good about going to sleep on your own by 8:45. Mom and Dad then have the rest of the evening to stare blankly at each other, trying to remember what we used to do in the halcyon days when sleep flowed like water.

You sleep until 8 or 9 in the morning (not uninterrupted, of course) and wake with the biggest gummy smiles and proto-laughs. You started laughing this month. Well, not laughing, exactly, you don’t have the mechanics down quite yet. It’s more like a smoker’s cough; but you only do it when you’re happy. So my guess is you’re either laughing, or sneaking in some Virginia Slims on the side.

Your first emotion was joy; something that pleases me greatly. But another emotion showed up this month which is not as delightful: anger. If momma has the gall to, say, continue driving home rather than stretch my boob over the center console, past the car seat, and into your mouth (don’t laugh, I could do it.) you get angry. This cry is different from any previous cry: you’re definitely angry. I wonder from time to time if Playskool has thought of making infant-friendly punching bags. You could use one.

You’re starting to grab at rattles that are suspended above your head. They seem to bore you, since they’re suspended above you, why go to the effort of grabbing them? They’ll still just sit there above your head. Ahhh...the birth of a cynic. You also love staring at yourself in mirrors. You smile and hack at that funny looking baby in the mirror, and stare contentedly at her as she stares back at you. It’s a bit like an infinite loop, like when two Japanese men bow over and over again at each other in cartoons. You smile, she smiles, you get wide-eyed, she gets wide-eyed. You can eat up twenty minutes with the mirror-girl.

You’re a very pleasant, easy-going baby. I want to remember these times when you turn 12 and know more than I do about everything. Every night I ask you to stay this size forever. Every morning, though, you wake up a little bit older, a little bit bigger, and your onesies get a little bit tighter. It's bittersweet: it makes me happy and sad at the same time. I love you Bean.

Love, Mama

Posted by Jen at July 21, 2006 11:50 AM