Baby B

Dear Sylvie (at 3 months)

September 2, 2009 at 11:01 pm

Dear Baby Girl/Boody Dooda/Chief Ridiculous/Doober Dees,

As your next “birthday” approached, everyone kept telling me that the 3-month-mark is known to be a huge milestone and a behavioral turning point. I can already see what they meant and I am excited to see what’s in store over the next month. As always, you have kept us enchanted with your ever-expanding repertoire and abilities. You’re an amazing little sponge and it’s so fun to watch you absorb new information every day. Here are some of your latest antics:

You’re standing! And your teeny little legs are surprisingly strong! You push off to get into the standing position no less than 10 times a day and you get frustrated if we don’t accommodate your desire to stand quickly enough.  Your legs will support your weight for several minutes at a time, and then you fall without warning like one of those plastic toys whose animal crumples into a heap at the press of a button. When you stand, you immediately look for a reaction and then you give us a huge, open-mouthed grin. Your daddy loves to proclaim, “You’re standing on your own two chickens!”

Not that they’re chickens anymore. Your legs are quite plump these days, and when you stretch them out straight each thigh has no less than 4 rolls. Part of it seems to be because they’re not growing at the rate of your torso. You’re an incredibly long baby (85th percentile or so), and your bag of outgrown clothing is rapidly filling up, but you have these short little legs! I mean, I know babies have short legs for their bodies, but yours seem like they might be exceptionally so. Long torso, short legs, chunky thighs…unfortunately, this sounds suspiciously like my body type. If you inherited it from me, I apologize in advance.

Speaking of my body, you recently realized that my breasts are actually connected to me. While nursing, you just randomly pop off and turn your head so as to study my face intently. Your expression when you do so is a mixture of  surprise and awe and bewilderment. You will just stare and stare until you finally break the ice with a heartwarming smile and maybe a coo. It’s both creepy and adorable. When your staring creeps me out I remind myself that you won’t be doing this forever and then it becomes adorable. You’ve also become quite a distractable nurser, popping off to look around, to locate a sound, to blurt out a few “ohs.” Forget any modesty on my end. I’d throw a nursing cover over the both of us, but you also now enjoy flailing your arm and kicking, so it really wouldn’t provide any coverage for more than a few seconds anyway.

Your language skills are taking off and you are blabbing the day away. You also like to join me when I sing. You mostly sound like you’re howling with “oooohs,” “ooooos,” and owwws,” but you’ve added some new consonants. I can recall hearing G,L,M, and H. Some words in Sylvie language include “ool,” “goo,” “umma,” and “ho.” You still like to punctuate all this with a sound that’s a cross between squealing and inhaling. We call it “speaking whale.”

So, now you’re a whale. No longer a rhino. You completely stopped the grunting and I really don’t even remember when it happened. You just don’t do it anymore. I miss your rhino sounds, although not really at 5 a.m. Oh, and lately you’re also a pug. You snuffle whenever you get excited or are concentrating. When I read you a book, I sometimes need to raise my voice just to hear myself over your snuffle-fest. So, you’re a pug-whale: an interesting combination. I’m not sure we’re going to find artwork depicting this, so I think we’ll just leave the rhino painting up on the wall for now.

I finally figured out that you can only stay awake for two hours at a time. Apparently this is typical baby behavior. You didn’t give me much time to read parenting books for the first two months, so I had no idea. Having a schedule is making it a lot easier to know your next move and we’re now finally getting a nap schedule down. You only nap for 20-45 minutes, though, and you wind up taking 5 and sometimes 6 naps in a day. We’ll work on that.

You’re still a great night sleeper, but last week you mysteriously started protesting being put down for bed. And it’s been some real drama, too, that requires us to shush and rub and soothe you down. All after 12 glorious weeks of no complaints. Now we’re scared that we’ve missed the golden window of opportunity to move you into your crib and the transition is going to be hard. We have set an official move date for this Thursday, and we’re hoping that you’re at least somewhat settled in there by the end of Labor Day weekend. Oh, my little girl, I’m going to miss having you next to me so much!

When I’m helping you go to sleep, I often sing you my completely butchered version of “Hush, Little Baby.” I started singing it one day as a desperate attempt to settle you down, but realized I didn’t know the words, so I quickly made up some pretty silly lyrics. It worked so well that I was singing this version the day after that and the day after that…before I knew it, my version had become completely entrenched in my mind. I think I might actually have the first two lines right, but then it gets downright ridiculous. It goes like this:

Hush, little baby. Don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.
If that mockingbird don’t sing, mama’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
If that diamond ring don’t shine, mama’s gonna buy you a porcupine.
If that porcupine don’t poke, mama’s gonna buy you an artichoke.
If that artichoke’s not good, mama’s gonna buy you a shirt with a hood.
If that shirt with a hood’s not soft, mama’s gonna buy you a Davis Square Loft.

Your daddy always takes you for a few minutes in the morning so I can get a bit more sleep after being up with you in the middle of the night. What a fabulous daddy. He says you always give him the biggest, cutest smiles in the morning and that it’s his favorite part of the day.

In the past month, you managed to discover all of your limbs and their many uses. You are an expert at the Kick and Play seat now, and you’re also playfully batting at dangling toys on your Gymini. You enjoy holding  onto something while you’re in your stroller. You can suck your thumb with relative ease, and you are capable of pushing your Wubbanub back in your mouth if it starts to fall out. The downside to your newfound awareness is that you’ve developed this strange habit of smacking and scratching  me in a rhythmic fashion while you nurse. You also hit yourself in the head sometimes. I hope these little explorations get boring fast.

Finally, you giggled for the first time on August 20th. You did it three times and got a whole lot of fanfare and were very excited. But then you forgot how to do it. You grinned and opened your mouth wide, but no sound would come out. We’re still waiting for the return of the giggle. The sound was utterly magical, and its return will be worth the wait.

Well, my little love, you’ve been a very busy baby this past month. You’re constantly changing and growing and I’m so proud of you. I’m trying to do my best to remember to savor and capture and relish every moment. It really is furiously fast and fleeting. As always, I love you with all my heart.

Big kisses all over your little face,

Mom

By phillygil | Posted in Dear Sylvie, Uncategorized