Dear Paisley – Month 2

June 27th, 2010

Dear Paisley Joon-

I’ve never been good at math, and don’t pretend to be, so understand when I say I don’t understand how the time has added up to two months. I find it funny because we waited six years to even try to get pregnant, and then my pregnancy seemed to eek by every day, and then you got here and I can’t seem to make the time slow down.

We’re absolutely soaking you up and enjoying every second with you. Fast or slow, the time with you in it is so much better. It feels like you’ve always been here, not like some person came home with us one day and suddenly we’re trying to make it all work. Well, there’s a little bit of that (OK, a lot of that) going on; but it really feels like you’ve been here all along.

You change so much every single day, and since I can’t bottle each moment to reflect on later, I’m trying to just savor them instead.

You started smiling this month – a moment captured by your Aunt Heather. Daddy was holding you and your little face just opened up into the biggest smile. You then smiled for Grandpa Kerry, and then Papa Rudy. I waited anxiously for my turn, hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to singing “Baby Got Back” like Rachel on Friends (a show that will undoubtedly run on your generation’s Nick at Nite). Then, while changing your diaper one afternoon, I was blowing my tongue at you and you did it. I want to suck the smile right off of your face. It’s perfect and beautiful, and shows off your gummy mouth and makes your bright blue eyes shine. You now smile all day. It takes some coercion at times, but once we get you going it’s non stop.

With the smiles came the coos. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It’s like you’re telling us these big grand stories. You’ll sit in your Bjorn bouncer, all four limbs kicking and squirming every which way, and start smiling and cooing like nothing could make you any happier. It’s pure magic!

The one time you need no coercion in smiling at all is when your daddy comes home from work. All he has to do is walk up to you and say “Hi Munchkin Joon” and you just spring to life. The smiles, the coos, you give him the works, as if you’re saying “Hey, you’re the daddy guy! You came back!”.

I know every month will be full of “major” milestones, each one more impressive than the last. But this month, we hit some big ones.

We took you on your first road trip to Oklahoma City to visit the Koskie family and a legion of friends. You were perfect… on the drive down. Once there, I think you were just out of sorts and there was a lot of running around that threw off your slight semblance of a schedule. Without my pump and often sitting in the middle of people’s living rooms or restaurants, we were forced to give you a lot of bottles and do less nursing. By the time we got home that weekend, my milk was gone. I nursed you for six weeks and I couldn’t be happier that I did. I wanted to go a little longer, but sometimes things just happen. You’ve taken to the exclusive formula feeding pretty well. No real issues – except that you spill it everywhere when you eat and we both smell like old broccoli by the end of the day.

We took some advice of friends and started putting rice cereal in your bottles. I should have trusted my gut and not done it because we’re now on a full week of you not pooping. You don’t feel well, I know your tummy has to hurt! So we do pear juice bottles, and sometimes Karo in your regular bottles to try to get things moving. But the traffic is pretty jammed… if ya know whaddeye mean.

You moved from the Pack n Play in our room to the crib in your room. The first night I was so nervous. There was a huge storm and the monitor in our room kept picking up the thunder claps, making it sound like the walls of your nursery were falling in around you. I think I got up every hour to check on you. When the thunder caused the monitor to buzz non-stop, I finally turned it off and just slept on the couch so I could be closer to hear you. It was a long night, but we both survived, and now you sleep in your own room every night.

You still love baths. I don’t know that we’ve given you one in the sink recently. Instead, you’ve been joining me. One night you weren’t feeling well and were super fussy so I took you in to the shower with me. You loved it. You curled up in your little monkey ball on my chest and let the warm water rush over you and you never flinched. Not a muscle moved, not a sound was made, you soaked it up. And I did that moment. It was the most perfect moment I’ve ever lived. You also take baths with me and do the same, just curl up and let me pour the water over you. I think you’ll be a little water baby for sure!

This week you had your eight-week appointment with Dr. H. Oh how I dreaded it, because you were getting a round of shots. Three total, and you shrieked the most god-awful sound. We both cried, but then it was over lickety split and I know we were both really pretty OK. You didn’t feel well the remainder of the day; very whiny, fever of 99.5, sleepy and cuddly. You weighed in at 9 pounds, 13 ounces and 21.75″, putting you in the mid-30%. Still my tinybits!

I went back to work this month and it has been quite a transition. I feel really fortunate to have a job that I absolutely love and the ability to keep you home with me during the day. It’s had its trying moments (the days you break schedule) but for the most part the day flows pretty easily. You either sit in your Bjorn chair with the mobile spinning in front of you, lie on your tummy mat, or sit at the dining room table next to me in your high chair. Or, you sleep.

This time in our lives right now is in such flux. The house is a disaster, your dad and I are always tired and we never seem to be able to see each other. The days of summer are supposed to be the longest, yet I feel like they’re shorter than ever. It’s all transition. But I’ll take it, because the alternative is a life that is perfectly planned, cleaned and organized and doesn’t have you in it. I’ve lived that life, and I can say with absolute certainty that this one is so much better.

I love you -

Mama