Ramblings of a mom

You're overstimulated. Your cry sounds "different" today. You're teething. You're too hot. You're too cold. You need blackout curtains. Your white noise isn't loud enough. You're over-tired.

This business of being a mom is a game, and it's one I can't figure out. 

The last four-or-so weeks have me guessing and questioning and wondering what's going on with you. You've been waking up well before the rooster crows, when I'm trying to get some work done. But you don't seem tired. Is this your new normal? Do you know I'm trying to get something done and just want to remind me that you're my priority?

A list of questions had me Googling to figure out this stage or phase or whatever it was and is...until I finally realized that's just what it is. It's just a phase. Just like eating. Some days you take two bites, and some days you eat the whole bowl of whatever it is I decided to mash up for you to try. 

You're a happy baby almost all of the time. You're healthy and growing and thriving. So why am I so worried when something changes? It's likely going to work itself out.

Deep breaths. Coffee. Wine. God. And an amazing husband who helps me though all of these phases of Fraser. 

Does anybody ever know what they're doing with their first child? 

Letters to Fraser: Seven months

Dear Fraser, 

You are a little person. Where did my baby go? 

When you were a newborn, people would tell me "it gets more and more fun," and it would irritate me because I was having fun with you. But now I know what they meant. You have this big personality shining through in all you do, and it's exciting and fun and scary. 

It's scary because I see how quickly you're going to move through phases in life. A woman at my workout class just said how her girl is now 17 and doesn't love to be hugged anymore. No more hugs?! I can't imagine. And then I think about how awful I was to my mom during those teen years, and I'm terrified! 

But just as your dad constantly reminds me, I need to live in the moment and love and cherish all that you are right this second. 

You are the happiest baby...until you're not. That's what we like to say. We certainly know when you're hungry or tired, and anyone in a three-mile radius likely does, too. You do not have a quiet cry. You do not whimper. You belt out your frustrations in a very loud and boisterous cry. Your dad continues to remind me this comes from the Benz side of the family. 

I have a hunch that when you're older, people will say, "She lights up a room," because you already do. Whether we are in an elevator, church, or the coffee shop, people comment on your smile and the twinkle in your eyes. When someone smiles at you, you smile back almost instantly. Maybe it's your age and something all babies do. I don't know. I'm just so proud to be toting you around because I see how you bring people joy just by showing up. We took you to visit your great-grandma in the hospital, and you had a whole station of nurses smiling and trying to make you smile. It was adorable. 

You can't quite crawl yet (thank goodness), and you still don't have any teeth, but you are sitting up and babbling and trying all kinds of foods. You're taking great naps (most of the time) and sleeping from 7 till 6 (most of the time). 

We hate when we don't know what's bothering you. Like the time you wouldn't let anybody hold you but me, and I had to put you in the Ergo to get you to sleep. Or the middle of the night when Dad tried to soothe you, and you wouldn't let him put you back in your crib. He had to hold you and eventually slept sitting up on the couch, reminiscent of your first days of life. 

You're probably doing what all babies do, but each new skill or sound or movement (like waving and clapping) are so thrilling for us. We are learning so much along the way. I don't want these days to end, but I'm also envisioning how fun it will be to see you as a sister. 

With the weather warming up and your dad on the loose now, with tax season behind us, we are planning lots of adventures together. You're already a big fan of nature, the outdoors, and it's a good thing you don't mind rain. You're so good about going with the flow. 

Your dad and I just celebrated four years of marriage, and we took you to a cute Italian restaurant for our anniversary. It was an unseasonably hot day, just like our wedding, and not the best choice since you're so fidgety and too skinny still for the restaurant high chair. I think we felt like we "had" to do something, but it was a good reminder that our best moments are usually not forced or planned. 

I continue to be amazed at how great of a dad your dad is and what a special bond you two have. He's a nap whisperer and the best storyteller, and he can make you laugh with the silliest dance moves and voices. He's been dying for you to be big enough for a hiking backpack, and we're all set to take you on your first fishing trip over Memorial Day weekend. 

I know you're the only baby we've ever known, but you're our first and our only, and we know nothing will ever compare to these moments we're sharing with you. 

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: Six Months

Dear Fraser,

You've aged out of the hospital moms' group, and I'm no longer supposed to hold you on my lap through my MOPS meetings.

You're officially old.

As I look back on photos from months five to six, I can't hardly believe how much you've changed.

You suddenly became a crazy person every time I set you down on the floor to roll around, and you're already one of those kids who "you just can't take your eye off of for one second." I like to plop you on a big quilt right next to the kitchen so you can play, and I can cook. One day I looked up, and you were inches away from the stone fireplace hearth. You went from stagnant to rolling to straight-up mobile in minutes, it seems.

Your dad and I went out on our first big date last month. We went to the Eric Church concert that toured through town, and your grandma came to babysit. We stayed up way beyond our bedtimes, and you had a rocky night yourself. Everyone said it was good for me to leave you, but I'm glad it was just a handful of hours.

We celebrated St. Paddy's Day, and we took you out to the Gorge for your first hike. I guess you could count hiking in Sunriver when you were five weeks old, but this hike you actually had your eyes open and took in the surroundings. Your dad wore you in the forward-facing carrier, which continues to be your favorite thing. Every time I put it on you light up, and I can't hardly strap you into it because your legs are kicking with delight.

Your great-grandma fell and broke her hip, so we took a day trip down to visit your Albany fan club, hoping to make spirits bright. Your little smile and bobble-headed curiosity seemed to be just the medicine.

What else can I say about this last month? I wanted to wait until your official six-month birthday, but I started running with you in the stroller at about five-and-a-half months. I think you like it, though you take better naps when I'm just walking. We also gave you rice cereal for the first time, which you amazingly gobbled right up.

Your nights have been all over the board, and I know it's because you're growing and changing so much. You've always been a wonderful sleeper, so any night out of our "ordinary" definitely calls for an extra cup of coffee in the morning.

I don't know if I've mentioned it in a letter, but I'm saying goodbye to my job so I can stay home with you. I've been on leave for these six months, and I'm working part-time from home for several weeks, but then it's bye-bye to the corporate life. Someday I hope we can chat about what a crazy thing this was and is. And someday soon, I hope I can write about that, too.

We're just days away from the end of busy tax season for your dad, and we have a laundry list of places to explore and things to see as a family.

You're a wonderful sidekick, and I really can't think about life without you now. I wonder what this next half-year will bring. Sunshine and a return to family life.

I love you, Fraser Mary, I don't know what else to say!

Love,
Mom

Parents gone wild...Fras, we left you for the evening with your nana...but we were back to say goodnight!  

First big hike in the gorge

Still spitting up...everywhere...all the time

Still a champ at snoozing in your seat