The Baby Bjorn (the front carrier, in this picture, with Theo in it) is getting a little uncomfortable to wear with a nearly-twenty-pound baby. I think we're going to have to buy another Ergo (like the one I have Beck in here) to be able to continue to each carry a baby, or, in my case, carry two at once.
Beck had a crap sleep day today because he slept on the way back from My Gym and then wouldn't go back to sleep in his crib when we got home, then took only about a 30 minute nap in the afternoon. By 5:30 he was pretty ornery. We sat them down for dinner (sweet potatoes, blueberries and rice cereal) at 6pm as usual and Beck would have none of it. Grandpa Leibowitz finally got him to eat some cheese if he could feed himself, then sucked on a pretzel for a little while. Then we gave him some toast. His eyes got heavier and heavier and finally he just fell asleep in his highchair, still clutching his toast finger.
Dear Beckett,
You are such a sweet, joyful baby. You drool like crazy and have for months, even though you are behind on the tooth-getting competition. You smile at anyone, everyone, everywhere. You smile the biggest, broadest smile and at the same time look away like it’s just more than you or anyone else can handle to be this happy. You have mastered your F and V sounds. You eat like a champ and you try everything at least once. Squash and oatmeal and rice cereal are your favorite foods. You have always been more distractible than your brother when you are nursing. I am more physical with you because you seem to like being physical--bouncing, jumping, standing, and wiggling. You are patient when your brother is cranking up and often enjoy just hanging out on your back, smiling at the sky. You crack me up when you straighten and lock your legs and arms and then ball your hands into fists and screw your face up and grunt. You don’t have a lot of interest in the storyline of any of our books but love to put the corners in your mouth and turn the book all around in your hands. When I can tell someone wants to hold a baby, I give you to them, because I know you will carefully look at them and then enjoy the view from their arms, unlike your brother, who will have an outright shit fit and whine and scream and demand to be picked up by Mama. You will gaze at the person holding you, sometimes quizzically, but you do not judge. I appreciate and admire that. You love getting dressed and undressed and are super-helpful getting your legs and arms through the shirts and pants. You had an adorable curly blonde mohawk for about a week before we figured out how to smoosh down your hair after your baths. Most people say you look like your Mama and Grandpa Stu. I suspect that one of the reasons you eat so well is that you want to please me and want to eat what I have prepared for you. You fall asleep in the car almost instantly, like your Mama.You have gotten the raw deal as far as our parenting mistakes, at least so far--you’re the one whose head got bonked on the door frame while I was carrying you, you’re the one whose fingers have been nipped (twice!) while I cut your fingernails, and you’re the one who’s gotten a diaper rash when your diaper hasn’t been changed quickly enough. You’re so resilient and good natured about all of it, though. At your first set of vaccinations you cried for about five seconds and then got over it. But sometimes when Daddy comes home from work and picks up Theo first, I watch you watch them and my heart breaks to see the look in your eyes, like you got passed over, but you’re trying to make it okay. You don’t want to make a big deal about it, but you noticed that Theo got picked up first, and you wish you were there with your Daddy. I love the way you greet every day and every new friend with joy and warmth and the expectation of wonderful things to come. If I had to choose one word to capture your essence at this moment in your development, it would be BOUNCE.
Love,
Your Mama
Dear Theo,
You have had a mischievous look about you since the moment you could have a look about you. You are so aware of your surroundings--who is doing what, where--and alert to the smallest perceived slight. When you smile, you look right at me like we are in on a secret together, and there’s no one but us. You hate feeling left alone, even if I am sitting down, touching you, while I am changing or attending to your brother. That’s why you often scream the instant I set you down in your crib for a nap, but stop by the time I pull my arms out of your crib. It’s like you have to show me that you hate being left alone even when you’re exhausted and want to sleep. I also admire that about you--that you know when you are tired, and don’t fight sleep. You pull up the blanket, turn your head toward the mirror in your crib, and close your eyes. You hate at least 50% of people, which I think is pretty fair. As much as I wish you would give everyone a fair shot, like your brother does, I also have to appreciate your discriminating tastes. It takes next to nothing to get you going--I reposition the spout of your sippy cup, pick up your brother, take a moment to unsnap my nursing bra--and you can scream like crazy, as if someone has just gouged out your eyes. You are quick to make a friend of other babies we know. When you saw Toby last weekend, you looked him right in the eyes and put your hand on his back to greet him. When you’re set down next to your brother, you frequently pat him on the shoulder or back while gabbing away at him. You have a huge variety of facial expressions. Among the funniest is your look when you are expecting one type of food (that you like) and are slipped a different (less favored) food on the spoon, instead. You take the spoonful, look up, and then look directly at the person who slipped you the less favored food. If you had a thought bubble, it would say, “You did this. I KNOW you did this. It is completely unacceptable. And I will remember it.” You love music and love to dance, which involves a lot of head shaking (ear from one shoulder to the other) and rocking back and forth on your hips. Some might call it gyrating or humping. While you were eating dinner tonight, I asked you if you wanted more. You shook your head no. Your expressions sometimes remind me so much of your Daddy that I feel as though I am looking into his face. If I had to choose one word to capture your essence at this moment in your development, it would be HUMP.
Love,
Your Mama.
