Nine Months Old!

Dear Baby G,

You might notice this letter is a little late.  That’s because your mobility is hitting Mommy hard.  The world around us is one big deathtrap now that you are on the move, and the mischief you get into through crawling already has me chasing after you all day.  The treadmill is collecting dust, but by the time you are walking I may still be trained enough to run a marathon.  You just don’t have time for me these days.

The significance of “nine months in, nine months out,” is not lost on me.  Baby, you’ve come a long way!

I look at that photo and I think, “It was you the whole time!”

The time I carried you means much more to me now that I know you so well.  I think back and imagine you in utero, checking your watch, and waiting for your due date.  “You said 40 weeks, right?  Let’s get this show on the road!”  

It’s an odd dichotomy to watch you grow and change every day yet still be so sure of your little personality.  At nine months old, you are still a grown man trapped in a tiny baby body.  Strangers who have never before met you often comment on how calm and serious you are.  “He seems like a wise old soul,” they say.

And I have lost count of the number of people who stop us on the street to admire your strawberry hair.  Yesterday the elderly checkout clerk at the grocery store took one look at you and proclaimed, “He’s a red head!”  with a sense of wonderment I didn’t expect from a grumpy old man.  It takes me by surprise, how you bring out the best in people.

The fact that you have no time for me during the day has started to give your still-frequent nightwakings a little more perspective.  A month ago I was threatening to give in and let you cry (“…to heck with my lofty parenting ideals!  I need sleep!”), but after a few weeks of seeing your daytime independence boom, I realized it is only a matter of time before you are independent ’round the clock.  And you know what?  That’s reason enough for me to keep answering every cry.  Because soon you will know what the rest of us already do–that things much cooler than Mom exist in this world to keep you happy.  Soon you will discover Legos, and ice cream, and fast cars, and pretty girls.  Soon you’ll realize that Dad is actually a lot more fun than Mom.  Soon, too soon, I will be the last person you want.

Until then, kiddo, it’s you and me.  Let the races begin!

Love always,

Mama