letter from mommy: month four

Baby Boh,

Before you were born, I spent hours and hours in Chapters stocking up on books that explained in graphic detail through both words and pictures the damage the birthing process was going to do to my body. I read these repeatedly for a good eight months before I realized I maybe should get a book or two about what to do AFTER the winds of Tropical Storm Blood and Placenta had settled. These books, innocuously titled The Baby Book and What to Expect the First Year, would do all new mothers a favour if they were instead called Poop, Your New Best Friend and 24 Ways to Prevent Your Jugs From Dousing the Waitress in Boob Juice When You’re Having a Salad at Kelsey’s. And of course, the book jackets in both should clearly state the caveat that once you have a baby YOU CAN NEVER READ LEISURELY AGAIN, GOTCHA YOU SORRY SUCKER WHO JUST PAID $19.99 FOR THIS DUST COLLECTOR WHEN YOU COULD HAVE INSTEAD INVESTED IN DIAPER AND BREAST PAD STOCK, WHA HA HA HA HA!

The one thing these books have in common when I do have a chance to read them is that they all call this time of your life the golden age, and, I must say, truer words were never written. You are amazing. This has been a month full of firsts, and I look forward to each and everyday you and I get to do something new together.

You are now rolling over sporadically and even belly laughing at how funny your daddy is. (And I gotta tell ya, kid, you have a fan in your daddy. He loves you just because you’re you, but that you laugh at his jokes is just the icing on the cake for him.) You’ve become a little kangaroo in your Jolly Jumper, hop hopping like a mad man, stopping only when you see a particular product that you just have to have being advertised on TV during a commercial break. (Huh? you’re asking. You thought I said no boob tube before age two? That’s right, baby boy. I am a weak, weak woman. What’s that? You want a Play Station in your room when you hit five and to stay out past midnight when you’re in grade nine? Done and done.)

And to top it all off in the next week I get to feed you your first solid food. It will be just another day of firsts for you, but it promises be one of the most exciting days of my life. I already have the type of spoon and plate I want to get you in my mind, and I can already feel my pride in you swelling as I think of how good I am sure you will do with this milestone (and even if you don’t, I just picture how cute you will be as you scream and wail and throw that bowl of stanky rice cereal all over your Grandma and Grandpa’s new hardwood floors. You’re heaven in a baby, I always say!)

Baby Boy, sometimes when I see how big you’re getting and how smart you’re becoming I pout to your daddy about how I don’t want you to grow up. About how I want you to stay my little baby forever. But I know this really isn’t want I want, because the only thing I really want in this life – really, REALLY want - is for you to grow up into a healthy, happy, strong and loving man. A healthy, happy, strong and loving man who will be my baby forever no matter how big he gets.

You know what’s coming next by now don’t you? That’s right. It’s the part where I tell you that I love you so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much. Because I do.

Love,

Mommy

PS. On July 27 you rolled over from your back to your tummy for the first time. YOU ROCK.

PPS. I know this letter is a day early, but tomorrow is the day you test our patience by screaming in some grumpy 40 year old man’s ear while pooping all over our laps as we fly at 30,000 feet en route to the Holy Land, so better early than never. Kisses!