Sunday, August 29, 2010
dear miles.
you are two months old this week. the day crept up on me, a little. while we still have things in the fridge that are older than you, it seems impossible that two short months ago, you didn't really exist. you were some weird alien i was kind of tired of carrying around in my abdomen.
you are letting loose with more smiles and coos every day. that's why they call this part the beginning of the "reward period," i guess. three a.m. is still hard, but when you wake up for the day at seven with a face--my god, that face--a face that's balm for a sore heart, that's magic.
you're not sleeping so well in the morning, by the way. from about three thirty until seven, you're up a lot. frequently. like, i'm starting to look kind of old. and you're not napping quite as much as i'd like during the day. i've probably read too many books; some say i should schedule you, some not. some say you should be sleeping 15-16 hours instead of the 13-14 you're getting. some say i should let you sleep during the day; some say i should rouse you after 90 minutes. i just heard friends mention their laid back newborn, and i thought: you are pretty laid back. actually, you almost never fuss seriously since i started putting you down earlier. maybe i should be treating you like the laid back guy you are, and quit it with the books and the strategies. two months, honestly. i can turn anything into a double-dare challenge.
listen, you. i'm bowled over with love for you, sometimes. and sometimes, i'm just quietly competent, and loving it, and loving you. this is a good job. momming. i can't promise i'll always love it, but right now, it beats the pants off a lot of other jobs. i like you, kid. i like being yours.
sweethead. your head is my drug of choice, by the way. you're a necco wafer. you're a cloud of silk. you're an orange leather handbag. you're the shade of a good tree. you should see you sleeping, kid. you're a sweet apricot angel. with you by my side, i can definitely make it till october.
