Dear Oliver,

You are nine months old now and let me tell you, this month has been insane. You are finally getting your four top teeth AT THE SAME TIME. Or you have been, your front two popped out yesterday and I was so relieved because I thought that all of this sleep business (you know, the business of you not wanting to do any of it) was over. Or at least CLOSE to being over. But you showed me, son. You showed me. You have been worse about sleeping since you got the teeth than you were before. It has only been 48 hours at most, but you are definitely giving me a bit of a hard time.

You also just had strep throat. A month after your sister had it. Which made me so sad for you because I had it once and it was hell. Granted, I was 25 then and maybe a little bit of a wuss. Because you didn’t act like you were nearly in as bad of shape as I remember feeling. But whatever. It is gone now and hopefully that little experience will help to strengthen your little immune system.

You are huge. You are 28.5 inches long and a whopping 23.9 lbs. Which is, just so you know, in the 95th percentile for weight and your doctor, I’m sure, thinks I am feeding you whole steaks and straight butter. (I am not. FYI.) You aren’t yet crawling. And I blame myself for that because I am still petrified with fear that your sister will try and stand on you while you are attempting to do so. I try and practice with you while she is sleeping so that there is less danger of anyone’s demise or serious injury. You stand up like a pro, though. You can stand, holding onto things, for quite a long time.

You are still, generally, a happy baby. Although, even when you are happy, you are the loudest baby EVAR. You screech like a pterodactyl when you are happy and when you are pissed, you are a tiny air horn. If you weren’t so cute, I might get a little pissed about this because it is really hard to deal with it when your sister is, in an attempt to get my attention, trying to match your hollering. We’ve had to replace all of the windows in the house. (This is not true. But I am surprised.)

You look so much more like a little boy than a baby now. (Which might have something to do with the fact that you are gigantic and rival your sister in the size department. People often ask if you are twins, with puzzled looks on their faces.) I can’t believe that in a few months we will be throwing your first birthday party. There is a whole lot of emotion involved in this for me. I am so happy you are growing up to be such a perfect little guy but I am super sad that you won’t be a baby anymore. This, by no means, implies that I would have any other babies. Because, oh my god, you kids are enough.

I would really appreciate if you would go ahead and push those teeth out and maybe remedy whatever is going on with your sleep schedule, though. Mommy is tired and cranky and scarcely has time to write letters to you. And that, my little guy, is unacceptable. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?

As always, you are a joy. You are getting to an age where you are taking everything in and are actually able to PLAY with your sister which is really fun to watch. The two of you laugh and squeal and you hit her a lot and she hates that. And it is hard to explain to her that you don’t mean to hit her and that you just flail around like a crazy person when you get excited. I am sure she won’t remember this and pretty soon you will be hitting each other on purpose. Oh, so much to look forward to!

I never knew I wanted kids until I had the two of you. And now I cannot imagine my life without you. Your smiles are the things that keep me going. You make me want to be better. You give me faith that I can be. And that the world can be better. And that you two will play a part in making it better. And I daydream about all the things you will accomplish. You are my hope, my heart, my everything. And I thank the Universe for every day with you. Every smile. Even when you are screaming your bloody heads off.

To the moon and back,

Mom