Tag Archives: Baby O

An Open Letter to Baby O: Five Months

Dear Oliver,

Today you are five months old. I always say that I can’t believe it. Because I CAN’T FREAKING BELIEVE IT! You are not only no longer a newborn, but you do tricks!

You can sit up unassisted now! Not for long periods of time, yet. But I am a firm believer that this is because your overall chunk factor is outweighing your ambition to do so. Understandably so. You are CHUNKY. You are at your most motivated when I am eating food next to you and you are intrigued and drooling. I am thinking that if I create some sort of device that dangles donuts in front of your face, you will do lots more interesting things.

You are not a fan of tummy time. And this is not a shock because your sister hated it so much that it took literally TWO SECONDS on her tummy before she started wailing her pretty little head off. You aren’t quite as bad as she was. You will, at least, humor me for a minute or so before you get angry. But you’re strong. And that makes me happy.

You might not believe this when you finally read this post, and you might call me a liar, but you absolutely LOVE YOUR SISTER. Your eyes light up every time she is within your line of sight and you squeal with glee when she pays attention to you. I mean, like, ANY attention. Now, like I said, you may never believe that this was ever the case. But here it is, Ollie. In print. Mommy has spoken. I get so much satisfaction out of the two of you and your interactions with each other. When you cry, she brings your pacifier to me to give to you. (She sometimes tries to shove it, ever so gently into your eye mouth. She tries to help. She loves you too.

You are still such a happy baby. You sleep well most of the time and you coo and giggle and have all this personality and I just can’t believe how fast you are growing. You are generally content just to sit and watch as I put out your sister’s little fires all day. You bounce in the little bouncy contraption while she bangs pots and pans and creates a ridiculous amount of noise. You don’t mind. You just want to be near her. And when the mood strikes her, she pushes the bouncy contraption back and forth, saying, “WEEEEEEE!” for you so that it is like you are in a swing. (She used to push you in the swing too, if it wasn’t turned on, because she can’t stand you not to be moving?) You love this. You giggle and scream and just watch her. It melts my heart every time.

I hope that, by the time you read this, you and your sister are as close as you can be. I think that is the most exciting thing for me about you being this close in age. You, I hope, will grow to be best friends. I hope that you will love each other and look out for each other always. I hope that you get the best of the best out of having a sibling. Because, I mean, siblings are AMAZING. (Try and remember that when she plays tricks on your or tells you that you were adopted. You were NOT adopted and I have this blog, detailing all of the pain of my pregnancy, to prove it. But it is an older sibling’s DUTY to convince you of such things. Just kick her. No. Don’t kick your sister. Man…I maybe need to work on my parental advice before you get old enough that you actually do start kicking her. Crap.)

Anyway, I love you very much. More and more every single day. I can’t imagine my life without your smile. And your big, beautiful eyes. And being puked on 17 times before noon every day. (My guess is that I would probably smell better without that last one, though.) You should know that you, your sister and father are my whole world. And I couldn’t love any three people more. You all complete me. So, yeah. Thanks for that, little guy.

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To the moon and back,

Mom

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Jinxed

This part of the post was written a few days ago. And it has pretty much been this long since they have slept. At least, that’s how it feels.

I have been trying to get Baby O to sleep for the past two hours. He will only nap while I am holding him and I am currently sitting quietly just a few feet away from him, trying to pretend I don’t see him staring at me from his swing (which is so worn out, it no longer swings) with that “so when are you planning to pick me up?” look on his face. I remember these days all too well with L. You know, when it would take three hours to get her to sleep and then she would humor me for exactly 23 minutes and give me a break. Long enough to pee and sit down just long enough to find something I wanted to watch on TV, only to immediately hear her screaming again as soon as I breathed that sigh of sweet “baby is sleeping” relief and settled on a re-run of “Sex and the City“.

I can’t really complain about Baby O too much. He sleeps, usually, really well at night. Like, 10-12 hours on most nights. Very seldom does he wake up in the night to be fed or changed or anything. I think he realizes how much his sister does this and tries to do what he can to help me maintain some level of sanity. And I appreciate it. But as he gets older, and sleeps less during the day, I am finding it harder and harder to find a second for myself.

I manage pretty well, I think, for someone who is high strung and who has a really hard time just “rolling with the punches”. I mean, a four month old and a seventeen month old is no cake walk. The morning routine, alone, is sometimes enough to make me throw up my hands and surrender.

Nap time used to be my “me time”. And now, I can’t get them both to do it simultaneously. L, having previously been my problem napper, has become some kind of lovely little angel most of the time when I lay her down, still awake, in her crib (if you can believe this!) and Baby O babbles and babbles and insists on being held for the entirety of L’s nap, making it impossible to just…relax.

Skipping ahead a couple of days:

Okay, I have to be honest. I don’t even remember the last few days. There really isn’t much distinction between them these days seeing as I spend EVERY SINGLE DAY fighting the same battles of mommy-hood and waiting for Sunday when my husband MIGHT be home to help out. But I can tell you this, remember up there when I said that L was a great napper? Well, I lied. She is hateful. She is trying to make me crazy today. I am sure of it. (It is absolutely true that the INSTANT you start talking about how well your child is sleeping, they STOP DOING THAT.)

I have been attempting to get L to nap now for the last two hours. Which is only half true. Because I got her up and gave her a snack and some milk and then started the process all over again. And, she isn’t currently screaming. So, I can’t really say anything else about it. But, of course, the second I got L to ZIP IT and lay in her bed, Baby O woke up and started getting restless. And is now sitting beside me, refusing a bottle and whining. Because, he is dry, clearly not hungry, not tired and refuses to play with anything. Or take his pacifier.

It is gonna be a long week, internet. A LONG WEEK.

An Open Letter to Baby O: Four Months

Dear Ollie,

Tomorrow you will be four whole months old. And, I’d like to also point out that, while I can hardly believe that you are already this old, I can also hardly believe how you LOOK like you are NINE months old. You are huge. HUGE. (I will find out tomorrow at your check-up just HOW huge. But huge.)

I also think you are teething. Which also blows my mind because, Good GOD, kid, SLOW DOWN. What are you trying to do to me? With teething comes a lot of not sleeping. And drooling. And trying to gnaw your own appendages off. Which SUCKS for me because I have your big sister trying to climb the walls and rearranging the kitchen (read: dragging all of the pots, pans and Tupperware into the living room and banging it against the coffee table). The gnawing thing is pretty cute, but you are a soggy, soggy baby, Ollie.

You smile and giggle a lot now (when you aren’t shoving things into your mouth or screaming about the gums) and you are happy most of the time. Which is so great because if you were anything like your sister was, I would already have been institutionalized.

You found your feet a few days ago and you were so excited when you finally managed to grab ahold of one of them that I thought you might poop. It is so funny to think that I just watched Lilah do all of this same stuff a little over a year ago and she’s so big and all over the place now. It just reaffirms for me that time goes by super fast and before I know it, you’re going to be toddling all over the place too. (I am not sure that “toddling” is an actual word. But I like it. And it very much describes what your sister does.)

You make me so happy, Little Man. You are the spitting image of your daddy and you are just so freaking adorable that sometimes I am worried I might actually eat you. (I PROBABLY won’t eat you. But I can’t make any promises because you are just THAT YUMMY.) Sometimes I feel a little bit of guilt for having you so soon after having your sister because I wonder if I am giving you all the attention that you need but you seem to be happy and thriving just like you should be. It helps that you are not as much of a total spaz as your sister was/is. You are patient when she is destroying the house and I have to put you down to “regulate” the situation.

You are a good boy. You are handsome and strong and a joy and you’re all mine. I love you, little guy.
Always,

Mom

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Survival

So, I did it. I decided that, instead of letting my mom take both kids to visit my sister, I would let her take L, since she is older and super hyper and I thought that she would have a good time running around at someone else’s house for a change. And you know, chasing pets around and things like that.

She left Friday afternoon and will be back in about four hours. At first, I seriously didn’t think I would make it. She woke up from her nap on Friday and I cried my face off while I was changing her diaper. She, of course, thought that this was hysterically funny. And then I watched my mom get her into the van and drive away. And then I cried my face off again.

Surprisingly, after she was gone, and as long as I was getting constant updates via text message, I was okay. I mean, it was so strangely quiet in my house that I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. And the lack of Cheerios on the floor was daunting. But, we made it. Baby O and I cuddled and cuddled and played and played. And he made more noise than he ever has in his life. Most likely because, for the first time ever, he could HEAR himself.

The news here, internet, is that I made it. And I got to spend a lot of time bonding with my little dude and hanging out with adults. (I know! Weird, right? I didn’t have to spoon feed ANY OF THEM.) It was a damn good weekend. And now, though I don’t feel as relaxed as maybe I should, I am fully prepared to see my little L and kiss her face off.

But, I survived!

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Open Letter to Baby L at 8 Months

Dear Lilah,

You turned a whopping 8 months old yesterday. As always, I am amazed at how much new stuff you do every day. And how much more personality you have today than last week. You are beautiful and you are my favorite squishy little thing in the whole world.

This past month, however, your father and I announced to the Universe, that we are growing another squishy little thing. This time, it will be a boy and we will name him Oliver, after my grandfather (your great-grandfather) whom you never got to meet but who would have loved you to itty bitty little pieces and who would have told you really terrible jokes but they would have made you laugh anyway. Because your great-grandfather was best at making everyone smile. Daddy and I were not planning on having another squishy one for another year or so, but it seems your brother couldn’t wait to join us. And it seems that the Universe was ready to give him to us. Your father and I graciously accept.

The birth of your brother will happen right after your first birthday. And while I had hoped I would have more time alone with you before we welcomed more squish into the family, I am starting to get really excited at the prospect that you and Oliver will be best friends. That thought warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes.

When you were born, my dearest love, I was SURE that I could not love another human being with the intensity with which I love you. And it has managed to grow ever stronger in these past eight months. Welcoming your brother is scary to me because I can’t imagine loving someone else with that same intensity. I am told that this won’t be an issue. And I am sure that I will love each of you with the same fervor and dedication. I look forward to seeing your interactions with each other and your different personalities emerge. I am so excited for you, little one, to get to experience a sibling (even if I am not quite ready, myself) because, and you probably already know this if you are reading this letter, my own sister is one of my very favorite people. I couldn’t ask for anything more for you than to have a built-in best friend. A sibling is, indeed, a really wonderful thing to have.

You have started to show me that you are readying yourself for crawling. Which terrifies me because you will no longer be that cute little thing that stays where I put you and just lets me know when you are done with it. You will move yourself around and you will grab things and put them in your mouth. You will eventually walk and I will be a nervous wreck. And I will be chasing you and wearing your brother all at the same time. These are exciting times for you, my dear. You are becoming a real, honest-to-goodness, mobile human being. And this saddens me in some ways because it won’t be long at all before you are running around like a crazy person and no longer fall asleep in my arms.

Speaking of sleep, I think we should also discuss how little of that you are doing these days. You know, before I forget. You went, two months ago, from sleeping 8-9 hours independently to insisting upon sleeping in between your father and me in our bed every night. I have tried to trick you. I have tried to let you cry until you calm and fall asleep. (Which, by the way, does not work at all for a couple of reasons. One being that I am fairly certain that you could cry FOREVER, or it maybe just seems like that to me. And two, because I can’t bear to hear you cry. It breaks my heart into pieces every time.) I am not a fan of this phase you are going through because, for such a tiny thing, you sure do take up a hell of a lot of room. Your father and I sleep in the same position all night for fear that we will hurt you or disturb YOUR sleep. (Which isn’t really fair because, really, you don’t have any job to get to in the morning.) Needless to say, I am going to start this “sleep training” thing that I hear so much about VERY soon. (I am only waiting on the necessary instruction manuals to come in the mail. And then it is ON, little one.) I will definitely miss my cuddle time. But I desperately miss sleeping. Because I am pregnant. And if I don’t sleep, I become a scary monster and your father hides from me. Rightly so.

Anyway, you are still the love of my life. You are so beautiful, I sometimes can’t stop myself from staring. You are my everything, little girl. And I promise you, brother or no brother, I will love you always. More and more and more. Every day. Until the day that I die.

Love,

Mom

Sibling!

Sibling! (Photo credit: Gus Dahlberg)