9 months old
Dear Mia,
Today you are 9 months old. You have lived with us in the world for as long as you were inside of me. Perhaps that’s weird and not of much importance but I can’t help but notice that and pause to think about your birth and how different our lives are now and how happy we are to know you. You roll around and make adorable sounds and grab your brothers toys and “bang apart” his train tracks. You laugh and squeal and reach out for our faces. You are big and strong and cute. You like to put everything in your mouth and touch Henry’s face and look at the dog and eat mashed up vegetables.
Your father recently said that I was neglecting you (or something equally silly) because I haven’t been writing down your every move on a calendar like I did for your brother. For the record, your dad only just found out that I had kept the calendars so he is in no position to talk. Really though it’s exactly the opposite. We haven’t been fixating on exactly when you rolled over or how many times you have tried peas (twice and you weren’t that into them) because we have been enjoying every day with you. We know you are perfect and we have learned that the timing of so-called milestones don’t change who you are. Not that we don’t delight in the prospect of your first teeth or that I didn’t feel oddly proud when you first put your toe in your mouth. We do and I did! I love every minute of it and I think that’s why I haven’t worried so much about documenting it.
This week my mom was here with you playing in the living room while your dad and I were working in the office. You were laughing and squealing and he randomly stopped working to go out front. I heard him tell g.g. that he just came out to see you because he couldn’t resist the sound of your cute laughter.
You and Henry are the best things in our lives and even though you are not sleeping well right now I am trying very hard not to let it throw us off too much. I know this fatigue will pass and I don’t want to dwell on the hard parts of life right now because I know they will pass as quickly as the amazing parts and I only want to remember as much as I can about watching you grow up. It only gets better every day, and as rose-colored and flaky as that may sound, deep down I really know that it’s true.
Today you are 9 months old. You have lived with us in the world for as long as you were inside of me. Perhaps that’s weird and not of much importance but I can’t help but notice that and pause to think about your birth and how different our lives are now and how happy we are to know you. You roll around and make adorable sounds and grab your brothers toys and “bang apart” his train tracks. You laugh and squeal and reach out for our faces. You are big and strong and cute. You like to put everything in your mouth and touch Henry’s face and look at the dog and eat mashed up vegetables.
Your father recently said that I was neglecting you (or something equally silly) because I haven’t been writing down your every move on a calendar like I did for your brother. For the record, your dad only just found out that I had kept the calendars so he is in no position to talk. Really though it’s exactly the opposite. We haven’t been fixating on exactly when you rolled over or how many times you have tried peas (twice and you weren’t that into them) because we have been enjoying every day with you. We know you are perfect and we have learned that the timing of so-called milestones don’t change who you are. Not that we don’t delight in the prospect of your first teeth or that I didn’t feel oddly proud when you first put your toe in your mouth. We do and I did! I love every minute of it and I think that’s why I haven’t worried so much about documenting it.
This week my mom was here with you playing in the living room while your dad and I were working in the office. You were laughing and squealing and he randomly stopped working to go out front. I heard him tell g.g. that he just came out to see you because he couldn’t resist the sound of your cute laughter.
You and Henry are the best things in our lives and even though you are not sleeping well right now I am trying very hard not to let it throw us off too much. I know this fatigue will pass and I don’t want to dwell on the hard parts of life right now because I know they will pass as quickly as the amazing parts and I only want to remember as much as I can about watching you grow up. It only gets better every day, and as rose-colored and flaky as that may sound, deep down I really know that it’s true.
posted by mama without instructions at 9:32 PM
2 Comments:
Oh!! The sweetness of that just takes my breath away!
I think you wrapped that thought up so nicely.
Seriously, sweet!
That makes me feel all melty!
Post a Comment
<< Home