Memorial Day Weekend (1 week until move)

This past week has disappeared.  I'm not sure where it went, but there were perhaps a few contributing factors...

You had your 4 month check-up last Monday.  You weigh 13 lbs, 3 oz, are 24 inches long, and are, according to the doctor, "perfect."  You also had to have your next round of vaccinations, which meant three nasty shots.  As a result, you felt pretty crummy on Monday and Tuesday and wanted to be held much of the time.

You weren't napping particularly well this week.  We've transitioned you to napping in your crib, but it's meant for shorter, more restless naps (though hopefully a long-term benefit).  A couple days this week, you hardly napped at all.  You've been sleeping through the night most nights, though, which makes it easier to be relaxed about the crappy napping.

I read Eleanor & Park all day on Wednesday (or Thursday, I can't remember).

I came down with a wretched cold on Thursday and have been fighting it off ever since.

You were clingy and grumpy much of yesterday (while we tried to play Canasta with our friends Eric and Stephanie), but then we went for a potluck at Maria and Marilyn's, and you were a big hit.  You were held by everyone, smiled a lot, and made lots of friends.  You also watched your first movie, Marilyn's 15-minute short film called B2F, about the dynamics of a butch-to-femme "transition."  Very funny, and you loved it.

Today - my first day studying for the bar exam - you had another daddy day: the two of you went hiking up at the Eno River and had lunch at Motorco.  You were in a wonderful mood all day, smiling and giggling and generally a delightful child.  We took you to the pool briefly in the afternoon and then rounded off the day with dinner at the Federal.

We have only one week before we move to Charlotte, and this week the packing will begin in earnest.  I am very sad to leave this house and this town.  We've had a good three years here.

Bigger and Stronger

You're discovering new things about your body every day.  Thank god for your feet... the ultimate toys.  Also, you are starting to push yourself and roll over regularly (after about a week of sustained, hardcore tummy time).  You're going to be crawling before we know it.

Durham Bulls

We went to another Bulls game last night, but this time we sat in the shade.  The game started at 7, so much of it was past your bedtime, but you were delightful: so interested in the people, the scoreboard, the game itself.  You wore your bib overalls and really seemed to get a kick out of the whole experience.  Bulls games are one of the many things I'll be sad to leave behind in Durham.

Four Months

You're four months old today, and today I love you.

One year ago, I could hardly comprehend your existence.  And now you're here in this world: thirteen pounds of chubby, solid, gorgeous delightment.

(That my body has grown you from Day 1 to Day Now seems unfathomable.)

You, Almost Four Months

One day, I will start writing poems again.  And when I do, each one will be about you.

This is the greatest love I've ever known.

Grateful

My dear girl,

For some reason, today I've happened on several stories by parents who have lost, are in the process of losing, or are struggling with a very sick baby.  Each one I read, my heart is broken.  And each one I read makes me ever more grateful for the gift we've been given in you and how very, very fortunate we've been each step of the way.

Yesterday I remarked to your dad that when people stop to coo over you (which happens often, since you are undeniably an adorable baby), one of the most common compliments you receive is how "healthy" you look.  It's surprised me, since that's never something I've thought to say about a baby.  But it made me step back and look at you with new eyes.  You DO look healthy: chubby cheeks, stout legs, sparkling eyes, and beautiful clear skin.  It made me realize how each day we take this resolute, enviable good health for granted.

Last year at this time, the baby of an old childhood friend was diagnosed with infant leukemia.  I read her first blog post about his illness only a few short days after learning I was pregnant with you.  It made me weep, knowing that mama was spending her moments confronting the possibility of loss, while knowing that the spark that became you was busily growing inside me.  It impressed on me the enormity of this love: that I barely knew you but already couldn't bear to lose you.

You are so, so beautiful in your glowing good health.  So strong, smart, and happy.  Reading these stories of tragedy and loss, I resolve to be present with you every day and be grateful with you every day and to enjoy the gift of you, every day.

Mother's Day

... but not my first.  Last year on Mother's Day, I had just found out I was pregnant with you.  I celebrated quietly, to myself, with the warmest glow inside me and you, just the size of a poppy seed, to keep me company.  It was a huge weekend last year: finding out about you, moving to Washington, DC, and Mother's Day all wrapped into one.  This year was just as huge.

I graduated from law school, surrounded by dear friends, who I will sorely miss, and my lovely family: you, your dad, my parents, grandfather, and brother.  It was a beautiful May day, and we all had a grand time.  By the end of the day, though, we were all exhausted, you included (though you were a real trooper through the 2 hour graduation ceremony and reception following).  Friends came over for drinks, but we were finally able to get you to bed around 9:00.

And you slept until 6:45.  HUGE.  Your dad and I were both amazed.

We spent Mother's Day together because of course.  Your dad fixed a breakfast of hash browns and eggs (one of my favorites), and we headed up to the Eno River for a long morning hike.  You did so well, sleeping hard while your dad carried you in the Ergo.  After our hike, we sat at a picnic table and let you nurse, and then we all went to Foster's Market so your dad and I could eat lunch.  We sat outside on their beautiful patio and enjoyed the weather.  After lunch, a nap for you while Norma and I lay in the sunny spot in the living room.

And then - oh, then - the moment I've been anticipating for months: your first trip to the pool.  You were "all hat," as your dad says, and generally unimpressed.

Graduation Day!

You look like me after all.

When you were first born, everyone said you looked like your daddy.

As you've gotten older, however, you've begun to look a little more like me.

Mother's Day

I've always had a strained relationship with my mother, your Bebe.  She isn't an easy person to get to know, and she and I are so, so different.  I've spent much of my life being disappointed with her: disappointed we didn't have the kind of mother/daughter relationship so many of my friends seemed to have with their moms, disappointed we could never have honest conversations with each other, disappointed she didn't seem to understand (or want to understand) me.

I spend a lot of time dispensing the advice that, when it comes to the people in your family, you just have to take them as they are.  I've said this on numerous occasions to Pop Pop and Bebe, when they've been disappointed or angry with Aunt Sharon, for example.  But I've recently realized that in my relationship with Bebe, I rarely follow my own advice.  She is never going to be the warm and fuzzy mother, the honest, advice-giving BFF mother, that I feel like she should be; that's not who she is, and expecting her to be that way only continues to frustrate me (and probably her, too).

But your Bebe is one thing, for sure: she is an exceptional grandmother.  She is devoted to you, sweet girl, and has been devoted to you from the day you entered this world.  She helped all of us get through these last few months, driving up to take care of you during the week while your dad worked, and while I went to my law school classes.  She is silly and fun and interactive, and she will always be that way for you.

If she's unable to be an honest, advice-giving, BFF grandmother, that's OK.  Hopefully your dad and I can be the honest, advice-giving types.  Your Bebe will give you attention.  She'll play games with you.  She'll take you to the park.  I hope, as you get older, that you and your Bebe will find a way to continue this relationship.  As someone who never really had a grandmother, I want this more than anything.

Finished with law school!

On Friday, I finished my final law school paper, paid my $1 library fine, returned a library book, and said goodbye to this chapter of my life.  You, me, and your dad have spent the weekend enjoying the beautiful May weather.  We have:

- Gone shopping
- Gone to a baseball game
- Gone hiking at Duke Forest
- Had lunch at Motorco
- Taken a walk with Norma
- Snuggled, laughed, and otherwise had a grand time

You've been napping so much better this week and seem to have settled into a schedule, which is making life somewhat more predictable.  You've also discovered your feet and have been obsessed with them for days.  You are grabbing things and putting nearly everything into your mouth.

You and me, we're going to spend the next few weeks together.  I can't wait.