More Annoyed than Amused

Month Three

Posted by parsingtime on October 3, 2010

Dear N,

You are three months old today! That equals 90 days, which might seem like a lot to a person who can’t count but I have condiments in my fridge that are older than you so it isn’t really that old at all.

This month you have gotten yourself on a sleep schedule (without any help from me except that I give you a bath around the same time every day). And oh it is a glorious thing to behold. You go to sleep sometime between 6 and 7:30 and usually wake only once for a feed and then go right back to sleep. You generally don’t cry and and seem to know that after the bath and food routine it is time to sleep.  Do you know how good six consecutive hours of sleep feel after not sleeping more than three to four hours for a couple of months? It’s wonderful and makes me want to sing at the top of my lungs. Except, I won’t because it might wake you up.

You definitely associate your crib with nighttime sleep and happily go to sleep when I put you there and it is dark out but holy mother of god I better not try to make you nap in that crib. The crib of happy dreams of ceiling fans at night is the crib of horrors and has a mattress full of nails during the day.  Or so it would seem from your screams.  I feel a little bad about your going to bed so early because that means your dad doesn’t really get to see you at night but you get to hang out with him in the morning and are full of smiles when you see him.

Speaking of screams, you learned how to legitimately cry this month. No more cute newborn mewling, your two month shots hardened you from a cute sweet newborn to an almost three month old who knows what it’s like to live on the mean streets of Houston.  Scarred for life.  Now I get full on screams, tears and sad pathetic faces. One the other hand you also giggled for the first time this past month and I have no shame when it comes to doing ridiculous things to make you laugh.

You need to stop with the sad pathetic faces. You have nothing to be sad about.  I want your life. In fact everyone who reads this blog wants your life. Food is provided at regular intervals. You get bathed and massaged every night. Your clothes are always fresh. Someone else wipes your butt. You get entertained by all sorts of gadgets, books and people.   It’s like being at a five-star hotel without the room service bill.

Things you have learned this past month? You coo and babble. You have discovered your hands and like to play with them constantly when you are awake. You hold your ear or your hair when you eat. You are practicing your facial expressions, you will make a sad face and then smile right after, like you have accomplished the greatest thing ever.  And really you have because that sad face totally gets your grandfather every time.  You give him that face and he asks if he can get you some candy or ice cream. Even though you don’t eat candy or ice cream.

Before you were born I promised myself I would be rational about you. I wouldn’t tell everyone how cute you are or how your giggle is such a sweet sound, especially if you weren’t cute or had a voice like Fran Drescher.  I’ve already broken that promise. I will admit that some of your diapers have nearly made my nose jump off my face and run for a bomb shelter. I guess I can be impartial about some things.

Every morning when I come to get you, you grin so big it must hurt your cheeks.  Never in my life has anyone been so consistently happy to see me before I’ve brushed my teeth. You also look at me with such adoration. I know it’s just because I provide the food and off-key songs but it is still pretty amazing to me.

I hope that years from now you still smile so big it hurts when you see me after we’ve been away from each other for a while (realizing that a while will probably be longer than 10 hours). I know I will.

It’s been 90 days and while I haven’t forgotten what life was like before you (more sleep! errands took half the time!) watching someone else learn how to laugh and sit up has never been so fascinating.




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