Letters to Fraser: Eight months

Dear Fraser, 

Oh Fraser. 

You can sit up and play independently! You just had your first solo ride in a grocery cart! You know your name, you know just who's walking in the door at 5:30, and you adore watching your dog. 

All these wonderful things, yet...

You like to get up early. Like between 5 and 6 early. I like to get up early. You know, for some time alone. And you're not crazy about this, apparently, because you like to get up the minute my toes hit my slippers. 

You cannot be trusted on that changing table. Or anywhere for that matter. You're a little Houdini and Evil Kenevil wrapped up in a seemingly sweet and smiley little baby. 

Oh, and let's not forget that your fatal flaw is spitting up. We're at 8 months, and there are no signs you're going to stop anytime soon. It can be three hours post-meal, and you just really want to let everyone know what you had to eat or drink. 

It feels like I'm picking on you, but I'm only teasing. You're still the highlight of our days and the topic of conversation around the clock. We love being your parents, and we envision your future through your behaviors and mannerisms. 

How could you get any more "wiggly," I wonder. And what will be your first word?

We've been preparing to take you camping, and your dad even tried to get me to agree to letting you sleep in your sleeping bag in your crib the other night. I wanted to, but I also feared you would suffocate. Speaking of adventure with Dad, we took you fly-fishing down at the coast, and Dad's been putting you in the hiking pack to go for walks or just to water the garden. You love being outside, and we're pretty happy about that. 

I don't know what's standard, but you still do not have teeth. You're close to crawling but not quite there yet. You're eating pretty much whatever we put in front of you, which is wonderful. I was so stressed about getting you to eat when you turned six months, but now I know it's just like anything...it'll happen in your own time. 

The other day, someone told me that you look like an old soul. This made my heart sing, as I somehow felt it was the first time I heard you look like me. Since the day you were born, people have said you look older than you are. And I've also heard that you have a twinkle or sparkle in your eyes. These are the kind of compliments that just fill me with pride. Somehow, I feel like your smile is loaded with joy and kindness, and I can't wait to see how that spills out into your life as you grow up. 

We're heading into summer now. Your cousins are coming to visit from California, and you're about to have a new local cousin. You're not going to be the baby anymore, and I'm just not quite sure how that's possible. It feels like we just found out we were expecting you, and now you're inching closer to a year old. Time is a crazy thing. 

I want to cherish every day with you, as you are the biggest blessing of my life. 

Love, 

Mom 

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