Saturday, February 14, 2009

20 weeks old!!


Dear Alex,

You are 20 weeks old, and you've been very busy growing up the last 2 months. 

You can now grab your feet with both hands!  You are trying to get them in your mouth, but I think your belly is in the way for such an advanced maneuver.  

You've gone swimming a few times, and I'm happy to report, you love the water.  And you look super cute in your swim suit.

You can roll over from your belly to your back now.  I am pretty sure that you despise tummy time so much, you've figured out a way to get out of it.  When you rolled over that first time, I knew exactly how Michael Phelps' mom felt after he won his 5th gold medal.  I WAS SO PROUD OF YOU.  And you were so incredibly humble.  It was like you've rolled over a thousand times.  And who knows, maybe you have rolled over before and your mom didn't tell me, because she knows I would be absolutely unbearable to live with knowing that I'd missed the first time you did anything!  

You have gotten to be very good at telling us exactly what you need.  There's the "fake cry" when you get hungry, and the tired cry, and then there's the I'm-so-pissed-off-I-want-you-to-pull-the-car-over-cry...(5 times coming home from Boulder).  

Alex, I happen to think you are the most advanced baby ever.  The Receptionists looked at me funny at your Doctor's appointment when I told them that we were there for your S-H-O-T. 
And I know you understand me when I say to you, "...tienes hambre?", or "...tienes una fiesta en sus pantelones?" (translation -  is your diaper full?)

You are still super chatty in the mornings.  And after you spend the day with the kids next door, you have to tell us every detail of what we missed.  And Alex, I love listening to the highs and lows of your day.  You will always be the most interesting person in the world to me.  

I've been back at work for almost 2 months now.  Someday, I'm sure, I'll think it's real funny how I have to pump my boobies in the back of the fire truck (and yes, it's a pumper truck).  It's only a little awkward.  And soon, I'll laugh about how I store your next meal in the fridge at work, far from the coffee creamer, so the boys don't monkey around with it in the morning. (Like that would ever happen.  Because you see, Mama works in a place where farts are still real funny.)  In another month, you'll finally have graduated to food that isn't wrapped neatly in a nursing bra.  And while I'm looking forward to the freedom, I'm sure, just like every other stage in your development, I will morn the loss of what used to be.  

Someone told me once, that being a parent is like wearing your heart on the outside of your body for the rest of your life.  I feel like I have entered this secret world of parenting, and it makes me want to jump up and chest bump every other mom I see with a baby.  I've had a few nicknames in my life, but none that have ever made me so proud as "Mama".  (So help me God if your first word is Dada.)  

Chicken, thanks for choosing me as your mom, I'm up to the task.  Now hurry up and wake up from your nap so we can do stuff.

Love,
Mama

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This was so adorable I wish my mom wrote me sappy letters! PS I have decided you are a very great writer. As in you could seriously pursue it if the firehouse farts ever get too old. Love, your favorite sister!