My baby, you are two months old! You in all your chubby little baby boy-ness. Every day I'm thankful I have been given today with you. The other day we were out and about in the city as we often are. We were with a friend, and my friend asked me to tell her about who you are so far.
I smile because no one in all the world can answer that question quite as well as I can right now. You are my baby, and I am your momma.
You are a love. You are relational and love to connect. The moment you were placed into my arms, I'm told you opened your eyes right away to gaze up at me. Sometimes before I feed you, you love to pull back and study my eyes for a few moments, or look back and forth between daddy and I when he's with us. You smiled real smiles way sooner than you were supposed to, and yesterday at the pediatrician your doctor stopped mid-sentence and said to me, "Oh my goodness, look at him! He is so in love with you!" because you were just smiling and cooing away. I mean, make momma's day.
You are a foodie. I love to call you my little "milk monster" because you love, love, love to eat. We laugh, because when you feel the slightest pang of hunger, you get frantic. Really the only time you cry loud and hard is when you want your milk bottle. And you sure don't ever miss a meal. Your intensity for food made our breast-feeding days numbered and stressful, but hey, it's all good now ever since I've accepted the bottle. One of my favorite things about you is how after you eat, you throw both arms up in the air, lay back, and scrunch up your face like, "MMMm! That was GOOD!"
You are big. Here's how literally all my interactions with strangers go:
"Aw, baby. How old?"
"Two months?! Wow! He's a big guy!"
Ha. I love it so much. You've been solid from the start. When I was pregnant with you, they ordered a special ultrasound around 32 weeks because I was measuring so small on the outside, but what they found was that you were big, even then. I love your chubby rolls and how long and strong you are. I only chafe that I had visited the Baby Gap so much buying you 0-3 months clothes before you got here. You've hardly worn them as much as I would've liked. I should probably learn to let that go too.
You are strong. I never really got to have a tiny, baby-baby type newborn because you've been strong from the start. Since your first week home, we haven't dared take a step away from the changing table to even grab a diaper, for fear that you'd actually roll over. Every visit to the pediatrician, the doctor exclaims about how strong you are. Your name means "great, mighty" and you're stepping right into it.
You are handsome. Here again, I get the same comments from strangers and friends alike. People exclaim over your handsome good looks, and especially about your coloring. Auntie Kirra thinks you will be getting love notes by kindergarten, which makes me laugh. You look like mommy and Uncle Ty's baby pictures, but mostly you can't much tell who you look like yet.
You are a toaster. Always hot, always sweaty, just plain warm. It is too funny. I feel so bad because every time I get you out of your car seat, you're just drenched no matter how lightly I dress you.
You are flexible. We go, go, go, and you are so easygoing and take it all in stride. Uncle Ty says you're going to be bored with your peers because they're going to be grossly under-experienced compared to you. That makes me laugh too, because it's mostly just Uncle Ty making witty jokes like he does, but then again in your first six weeks of life you've cheered at a triathlon, spent a weekend on the beach in Michigan, gone all over the city of Chicago by transit system, taxi, stroller, car. Been out to countless restaurants and more. You are fun to take along, although it can be exhausting for us both. We usually take a quiet day at home after the busy ones.
You are a country mouse. When I was growing up, I had a book called "Country Mouse, City Mouse." You tolerate our city life well enough, but whenever we visit Grammy and Big Papa's in the country, you visibly relax and soak up the life. Bottles on the porch swing, sleeping in your pack n' play on the back patio, being held all evening under the pergola, you love to be outside in the country air. It's so precious and makes me feel a little guilty when I have to drive us back to the big city.
This is how I know you so far. I wrote this so I'll remember these things about you as a little baby, and so you know how much I love that you're my little boy.
P.S. People, I know, I know, I should be writing the birth story!