Monday
Jun212010
Dear Robbie, at 5 months (and 8 days)
Monday, June 21, 2010 at 07:00AM
Dear Robbie,
Someone asked me how old you were the other day, and her jaw dropped when I said you’ve been around for five whole months. I really, truly feel like I just woke up the other day and had a baby. Not a newborn anymore, but one of those kicking, squirming, trying-to-sit-up babies that actually does stuff other than stare at the ceiling fans and cry.
Where have I been? How did I not notice you’re becoming such a big boy? I’ve been giving you baths in an infant bathtub since you were born, and just the other night I realized you’re much too long for it now. When I pour water over your head, it cascades out the sides of the tub. You’ve love to splash, and you spend your whole bath flailing your legs so much that I end up soaked in bathwater (and pee, because you always go in the bathtub) from the waist down. It took getting drenched to make me realize that you’ve outgrown this thing.
When Kaylee was a baby, we bought her a jumperoo to help her work off her insane amounts of energy in a confined space. (Do you know how long I have to wait to go to the bathroom sometimes because I’m too busy entertaining children? Yes, the jumperoo falls under the category of toys my friend calls “the circle of neglect,” but sometimes your mother needs to pee.) I’d been thinking you were still too small for it, but once I realized how blind I’ve been about the bathtub, I decided to break out the jumper for you. I put you in it for the first time the other day, and your face immediately lit up. The look of wonder in your eyes made me feel like a jerk for having deprived you of the jumper for the past five months, for you were immediately, deeply in love.
At your four-month checkup, Awesome Doctor gave the go-ahead to start giving you rice cereal. The first time I gave it to you, you were intrigued. What is this new substance in my mouth? you seemed to wonder. Should I swallow it? Should I spit it all over my clothes? You settled on swallowing it, and were so caught up in the excitement of the new experience that you didn’t immediately notice rice cereal tastes like ass. Well, you’ve noticed since then. You’re reaction nowadays is more like, Why are you torturing me, woman? Now I shall commence screaming. I’m supposed to start giving it to you twice a day, but I’m not sure I want to. I’d hate to turn you off eating altogether, right when it’s about to get good. (Oh, and don’t tell your doctor this, but I did give you a taste of beef broth once, and you thought it was pure awesome.) Don’t you worry, kid, there’s better food in your future.
We’ve gotten out the high chair and you now sit at the table with us during dinner, and you are captivated by the things we eat. I’m hopinghopinghoping that means you’ll be a voracious eater, unlike your sister, but I’m pretty sure she tried to steal my French fries when she was your age, too. Last week I made the mistake of letting you try to drink from my water glass, and now you’re a little ice-water addict. Except you haven’t figured out you’re supposed to, you know, swallow the water, so both of us end up soaked. Now I can’t drink anything in front of you or you’ll open your mouth and start flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to will my beverage into your gaping maw.
This month, you’ve also discovered that your sister is super entertaining. All she has to do is look your way and you start laughing. I love that the two of you are enjoying each other so much. And here’s a secret: Your dad and I are enjoying you, too.
Love,
Mommy
Someone asked me how old you were the other day, and her jaw dropped when I said you’ve been around for five whole months. I really, truly feel like I just woke up the other day and had a baby. Not a newborn anymore, but one of those kicking, squirming, trying-to-sit-up babies that actually does stuff other than stare at the ceiling fans and cry.
Where have I been? How did I not notice you’re becoming such a big boy? I’ve been giving you baths in an infant bathtub since you were born, and just the other night I realized you’re much too long for it now. When I pour water over your head, it cascades out the sides of the tub. You’ve love to splash, and you spend your whole bath flailing your legs so much that I end up soaked in bathwater (and pee, because you always go in the bathtub) from the waist down. It took getting drenched to make me realize that you’ve outgrown this thing.
When Kaylee was a baby, we bought her a jumperoo to help her work off her insane amounts of energy in a confined space. (Do you know how long I have to wait to go to the bathroom sometimes because I’m too busy entertaining children? Yes, the jumperoo falls under the category of toys my friend calls “the circle of neglect,” but sometimes your mother needs to pee.) I’d been thinking you were still too small for it, but once I realized how blind I’ve been about the bathtub, I decided to break out the jumper for you. I put you in it for the first time the other day, and your face immediately lit up. The look of wonder in your eyes made me feel like a jerk for having deprived you of the jumper for the past five months, for you were immediately, deeply in love.
At your four-month checkup, Awesome Doctor gave the go-ahead to start giving you rice cereal. The first time I gave it to you, you were intrigued. What is this new substance in my mouth? you seemed to wonder. Should I swallow it? Should I spit it all over my clothes? You settled on swallowing it, and were so caught up in the excitement of the new experience that you didn’t immediately notice rice cereal tastes like ass. Well, you’ve noticed since then. You’re reaction nowadays is more like, Why are you torturing me, woman? Now I shall commence screaming. I’m supposed to start giving it to you twice a day, but I’m not sure I want to. I’d hate to turn you off eating altogether, right when it’s about to get good. (Oh, and don’t tell your doctor this, but I did give you a taste of beef broth once, and you thought it was pure awesome.) Don’t you worry, kid, there’s better food in your future.
We’ve gotten out the high chair and you now sit at the table with us during dinner, and you are captivated by the things we eat. I’m hopinghopinghoping that means you’ll be a voracious eater, unlike your sister, but I’m pretty sure she tried to steal my French fries when she was your age, too. Last week I made the mistake of letting you try to drink from my water glass, and now you’re a little ice-water addict. Except you haven’t figured out you’re supposed to, you know, swallow the water, so both of us end up soaked. Now I can’t drink anything in front of you or you’ll open your mouth and start flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to will my beverage into your gaping maw.
This month, you’ve also discovered that your sister is super entertaining. All she has to do is look your way and you start laughing. I love that the two of you are enjoying each other so much. And here’s a secret: Your dad and I are enjoying you, too.
Love,
Mommy
Reader Comments (7)
What a sweet, happy boy!
Always keep in mind that often that "circle of neglect" is mom's "only saving grace!"
Oh yes. My friend who coined the "circle of neglect" term has one, too, and has used it for both her children. Like me, she is glad to neglect her kids once in a while.
Your children are too freaking cute. And this is a beautiful post. I'm so bad at remembering to stop and reflect as these months go by... thanks for reminding me to do so!
Thank you! (I mostly write these letters because I suck at keeping baby books. :) )
One of my favorites so far. Your kids will be so lucky and excited to read these letters when they're older. What a special gift. If I believed in babies, this is definitely something I'd try to do. Oh, and my "circle of neglect" would be everpresent!
I hate to break this to you, Shelmon, but babies are REAL. There have even been a few sightings in my very own house. :)
First picture-No way!
Fifth picture-He's eating a PLASTIC icecream!
Last picture-Kaylee's in the crib.