March 12, 2017 by 8junebugs
Dear Alexander —
This is going much too fast.
This is what we were warned of when your brother was born, but we sure didn’t experience it this soon. You are growing so fast and the time is flying by.
I’m a third of the way through my leave and, for the first time, I wish I could figure out a way to be the at-home parent. Grayson has gotten to the point where we can go out and have adventures more easily and I’m more comfortable being out and about with an infant than I think I ever managed last time; the countless places I’ve fed you include both parks by our house, including the top of the play structure at Nicol Park, while simultaneously growling “None shall pass!” as the troll protecting the curvy slide, because #boymom.
It’s been a tricky month, as you’ve become much more aware of what’s going on around you and how you feel about it. I realized that this is why we have a larger diaper stash for this age and size — being wet really annoys 2-month-olds. But you’ve also figured out how to use the piano playmat on purpose, which gives you great joy until you teeter over into slightly overstimulated “SOMEBODY PICK ME UP NOW” territory.
It’s made bedtime and naptime trickier for us, too, because you are in the Johnny 5 stage of “MORE INPUT” and can’t stop yourself from looking at everything you can, all the time. Sometimes you’re still a dream to put down — you’ll nurse or snuggle and drop into dreamland and Daddy and I will have an hour or so of kid-free time. (Somehow, you and your brother are on roughly the same sleep/wake schedule, night nursing notwithstanding.) Other times, I feel like I’m spending my life going between nursing, jiggling, and shushing, only to have you jerk awake 10-40 minutes later. But most nights, you’ll go a good 5-6 hours for the first clip, then 2, then 1, then 1, then…you get the idea. Lately, if I let you sleep on me for a bit, you settle in for longer at the tail end.
You appear to have inherited my tendency to need to poop 30 minutes before your day is due to start. Your brother has, too. It drives your father crazy, but it’ll keep you from ever missing a morning practice, should you pick an activity that practices in the morning. #crewlife #bandnerd
Also, in my greatest #momfail to date, I overheated you the night before your last well baby appointment (and surely more than that one time). With Gray, we were so scared of overheating that it took us 4 months and an experienced sitter to add an extra blanket — he slept much better when he was warmer.
You, sir, are the opposite. One night, you just wouldn’t settle, and when I checked, you had a damn fever from being wrapped too warmly. Nothing helped until we put you in a cool bath, which dropped you down so fast that that scared me a bit. Since then, you’ve mostly slept happily in a diaper and a light muslin swaddle with the window open and the fan on. In February and March.
Meanwhile, Mommy’s in yoga pants and a fleece, shivering under all the blankets because we’ve been sick forever. This year’s cold has decimated our household — you’re the only one who’s fared well. Grayson even got an ear infection after being congested for so long I no longer remember when it started. My personal hell was laryngitis, which struck as I was driving home in our new (to us) car to nurse you and then go pick up your brother.
Oh. So. Yeah. Your new ride is the General Wheeeee! Yes, your parents named you Alexander and used a “Hamilton” lyric to name the car.
There are worse epic stories to weave into one’s personal narrative.
Let’s see. You’re gaining about a pound a week, or you were when we took you in for a sick visit (see: sick foreverrrr, but you were fine) then took you in for the well baby visit a week later. The chart also shows that you grew 2 inches in that week, which seems like a lot and we figure the nurse didn’t stretch you enough on the first visit, but Dr. Katie didn’t seem fazed by it, so… Yeah. String bean. That’s you. At 2 months old, you’re about 12 and a half pounds and 23.5 inches tall.
Your head’s in the 98th percentile, because of course it is.
You have wicked expressions and one of the saddest pouts I’ve ever seen, but you save the best smiles and Puss-in-Boots eyes for me. Your brother both adores you and occasionally asks why we have to have another person in the house. (He’s adjusting well, actually, but it’s still hard to watch sometimes.) Daddy is looking forward to getting to know you better someday when you’ve decided you don’t hate him. (He says you’ve been nicer to him the last few days.) You love bathtime, you do not love bottles, and you’re kind of meh on the stroller, a double that we bought 2.5 years ago, before it became obvious that we weren’t ready for another kid yet.
I like the stroller and your brother is enjoying the novelty of it, but I now roll with almost 60 pounds of children and maneuvering that thing is a pain in the wrists.
As tired and sick as I’ve been, I still feel pretty solid in the post-partum department. Overheating you shook me a bit and I have a new fear of falling down stairs with you in my arms (probably having tripped over your brother or the dog, because they are both frequently in front of me when I can’t see them), but I’m doing all right. I’m eating, at least, so that’s one step ahead of where I was before.
I can’t believe it’s been 2 months, little guy. I’m a little more in love with you every single day.