Here you'll find current musings, as well as the archives from two blogs of yesteryear: YoungMarriedMom and What I Learned While Writing a Novel. Please comment and share. We love well when we are in conversation with one another.
Sunday, just a week after we moved into your grandparents’ house, you started to crawl. It’s starting to set in that you’re on the downswing of your first year. Every day, you’re growing out of being an infant and getting closer to being a little boy.
This week, you also started to imitate us in clapping and waving. When you’re done nursing in the rocking chair, you turn around and look at your bed, letting me know you’re ready to go to sleep (well, after you chat on your own for a bit). Aunt Kathleen said that you were talking, “Dadada,” and when you heard my voice, you quieted down and started saying something more like “Mamuma.” Yay! I’m trying to sign with you more, because I can see you trying to communicate with us more and more. So exciting!
I gave you finger food for the first time the other morning, and you knew exactly what to do with it: eat some and throw the rest, one by one, on the ground. You are smart, sweet, snuggly, and, according to Grandma TT, squishy. Our life has been very busy, and sometimes I feel like I haven’t really looked at you until partway through the day. You easily convince me to slow down, with the way you giggle when you’re tickled and reach for my face with your chubby little hands.
I know you are a different person than Jacob, but so much of that is still intangible. You are ticklish—more so and from an earlier age than Jacob is/was. You put things in your mouth a whole lot more than he did, too. I don’t pretend that I can tell much about your personality from these things, but I do know that every detail about you is unique in a perfect and wonderful way. We are all so in love with you.
When you cry in your crib, if Jacob’s in the room with you, he’ll say, “Henwy needs somebody. Henwy needs somebody.” If he can get to you when you’re crying, he’ll often bring you a toy or a sippy cup. If you’re not crying, he still sits on you sometimes, but now you both seem to enjoy it, so I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do about that.
Moving into this house, my favorite room is that one that you and Jacob share. For one thing, it has a red accent wall! More importantly, though, it’s the room you and Jacob will grow up in and that makes me so happy and hopeful. We are giving you all that we can, the best we can think to give you. It’s not everything, and it’s not all going to be easy for you. We believe our job is to build your character, and I hope you will appreciate that. I hope we do it well.
You have more teeth coming in and you are thinning out. Part of the baby is melting away and a handsome little boy is shining out. I love holding you, smiling at you, laughing with you, watching you fall asleep, watching Jacob play with you. You are so important to me, to our family. I read you a story today while you were in your exersaucer (you and Jacob have been tag-teaming naps—either to get alone time with me or to be sure I get nothing else done). I love reading to you when you’re not trying to eat the book!
Oh, Henry. I could go on and on. All this is to say I’m so, so glad you’re part of our lives.
With all my heart,