Tuesday, February 28, 2012

A letter to my daughter

Dear Peanut,

You are 7 months old today, and I don't know how that happened.

These past few months have flown by so quickly, I almost feel that you were never a newborn, never a little baby.

When you wake up in the morning, you are all smiles. Kicking and waving your arms around - swimming in your crib - smiling, gurgling and laughing. You seem to know that it's morning time now, all your family is awake, and it's time to play! Today, I found you sitting up in your crib, staring at the door. You immediately started the morning swim and morning gurgly laugh when you saw me.

It's better than my morning coffee for starting a good day.

You play so happily with your toys (and with Bjorn's). You have become so good at crawling and chasing after all your brother's cars, laughing all the way. Once we can teach you to race the car, instead of putting it in your mouth, I think your brother is going to love playtime with you. He already loves sharing with you, bringing his cars to you, telling you what each one is, and what sound it makes.

When you are done crawling, you are able to stop and sit up on your own. With no help.  Your weeble-wobble days are long gone, and I no longer worry about taking my eye off you. Now I worry when I leave the room, where you are going to go. You're on the move and you're fast. You're also very flexible and love, love love being upside down. I imagine you in ten years, jumping gracefully from the balance beam in a double tuck roll, winning the gymnastics competition.

You weigh in at 16 lbs exactly, which is on the tinier side. I call it petite. But you have been sick the last few days (just a cold!) and not eating well, so maybe we can beef you up soon. This morning you devoured a big ol' bowl of yogurt, so maybe you are starting to feel better. I hope so. It's not fun to see you sick, Peanut. It makes me sad that I can't help.

You babble more ("babababababababa")than I remember your brother doing, and I wonder if that means you are going to talk more than he does. Is that possible?! He talks all the time!! But I can't wait to hear what you have to say; it seems that everything you say makes you laugh, with a big, hearty belly laugh. I imagine you in twenty years, standing on a nightclub stage, doing stand-up. I see you on Saturday Night Live, making the whole world laugh with your impressions.

I really can't believe how old you are, and all that you can do.

Sometimes I'm going to want you to grow up too fast. Hurry up and walk, ride a bike, dress yourself, go to school. You are going to have to remind me now and then that it's nice to be the age you are now, and doing what you can now. That the grass is plenty green right where you are. Don't let anyone- including me - make you grow up too fast.

Take it from me: there is plenty of time to be an adult. Take your time being a kid.


Friday, February 17, 2012

The difference

It's so hard when you have two kids not to compare.

I mean, really, I have absolutely no experience with kids outside of my own two (someone really should have told me a thing or two before I had kids!), so the only thing I can do is compare.

So compare I do.

And even though I was so lonely and unskilled and depressed after Bjorn was born, he was still easier than Peanut.

He didn't have reflux. Which means he didn't scream for hours on end until medicine finally - thankfully - was prescribed.

He slept through the night. Every night. Almost from the very, absolute beginning.

He took three hours naps. Two or three of them a day. Even at 7 months old. He would happily sleep in front of Law & Order in my arms for hours.

So it's hard to have a second child that rarely naps more than 45 minutes at a stretch, never in my arms, and whom decided after two months of sleeping through the night that there is too much of a good thing, and she would start needing to feed twice a night.


Then I read Bjorn's baby book, and some old blog posts when he was a babe.

And I'm starting to think Peanut is the easy baby.

Bjorn never, ever went to sleep awake. He would scream and cry and make himself miserable, but he wanted to be rocked to sleep and laid in his bed. God forbid you try to put him down before he was asleep. I almost never rock Peanut to sleep. Since about 4 months old, I have been putting her down wide awake. She sometimes cries a bit, and then realizes, 'Oh dang, I'm tired. Well, since I'm in bed, I might as well go to sleep!' And then she does.

Bjorn would only sleep in my arms. For naptime - all the way up until I went back to work at 7 months old - he would only sleep.in.my.arms. Yes, it would last for 3 hours. But how was I to get anything done? Ever tried showering with a baby in your arms. Uh uh. Not happening. At least Peanut gives me a few minutes to SSS if needed.

Bjorn didn't have reflux. This is true. But I have never been able to get out the spit-up stains he left on every.single.piece.of.clothing.I.own. Outside of The Poltergeist, I have never seen a human being expel that much liquid. The Hubs nicknamed him Queso. And his Ped said it was normal. Not to worry, he would get over it. Which he did. But none of my clothes survived.

And Peanut is such a happy baby. SUCH a happy baby. I think the only time she cried today was when Bjorn took his car away from her (ah, the sibling fighting begins!) and when it was lunchtime, and we were still ten minutes from home.

That's it. Ten minutes of crying the entire day.

The rest of the day was filled with this:


I swear, all the girl does is smile. Smile and scream.

How could I ever have thought she was tough?!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

6 Month-aversary

Yesterday, when I went to pick up Peanut from the infant care room at the gym, I was told that she was being a "little ornery".

No kidding.

"She got a tooth this past weekend," I said. "So, yeah, she's a little ornery."

The infant room facilitator looked at Peanut, looked at me, and said, "No, no. I think she got TWO teeth this weekend."

She was right.

Not one, but two little baby teeth are poking through on the bottom. Count them. TWO.

My little girl is growing up.

Literally. At her 6 month appointment this morning, she weighed in at 15 pounds, 2.5 ounces (26 %ile) but was a whopping 26 1/2 inches (77%ile). Long and lean, my girl is. Long and lean.

Obviously she didn't get that from me, who tops out the height chart at 5 foot 2 1/2. And that's when I am stretching on tiptoes.

While her weight may seem to be on the lower side, the doctor is not worried (and neither am I). She eats heartily and healthfully at every meal, and still nurses 7-9 times a day. She is rolling and playing and moving all over the place, so she may be burning as fast as she takes it all in. Just like her brother.

Developmentally, she received rave reviews, with the Doc even telling us that she is doing "more than the average 6 month old".  She was referring to her baby plank.
Planking, on her toes and hands, holding a bridge. My girl is AWESOME.

I have a yoga baby. Now I just need the cute baby yoga pants. She would look adorable in them.