November : 2011 : Blog a la Cart

November 10, 2011

Month 3.

ourtland,

You sweet, drooly thing, you. Today you are 3 months old. You do realize that Mommy didn’t start writing these birthday letters for Addison until her 3 month birthday. This means that, assuming I’m able to keep up this monthly writing, you will ultimately have two more birthday letters than your big sister. Treasure this, as I know many second borns complain that they do not receive the same level of attention and documentation of their lives as their eldest sibling. Here’s something you can cling to when you realize that Mommy hasn’t created five scrap books in your honor the way I was able to do with Sunny.

I haven’t gone back and read the letter that I wrote to your sister on her 3 Month birthday*, as I don’t want it to influence or inspire what I’m about to record about your first three months of life. It’ll be very interesting to see the differences in those letters, the things that jumped out to me about your sister at this stage versus the things that are most notable about you.

And a notable little baby you are, my dear. I probably shouldn’t use the term “little” to describe you, as your growth is off the charts and your feet are so long and ski-like that you have to wear 12-month footsies in order to accommodate those toes.The fact that you are now wearing 9-12 month clothing is outrageous, and I wonder who will wind up being the taller sister. Undoubtedly you both will out-height Mama.

While I called your sister a Mohawk baby, you, truly, have earned that title. I realize now that while your sister had more hair, it was less a Mohawk and more a series of spikes like that of a Stegosaurus. You have a proper and ever-growing ‘hawk. And I will weep with dismay the day it falls. It is just priceless, and as always, the ultimate conversation starter.

You continue to be the messiest, drooliest, slimiest, spit-uppy infant. Burp cloths are strewn all around the house because at any moment you might erupt. No one is safe. The dogs. The floors. The couch. My hair. We’ve all been sufficiently coated in regurgitated milk, and I’m becoming quite accustomed to changing my clothing on account of reverse peristalsis at least three times a day.

Oh and the drool. I keep thinking that you might be an early teether, ya know, to explain the bath tub’s worth of drool that you leak on a daily basis. But there are no signs of teeth. You are just a baby faucet.

You are very particular about how you like to be held. And Daddy and I are on the brink of suffering from Carpal Tunnel due to this particularity. You do not want to be cradled. Or held up facing our chest. You must be carried facing outward, one of our arms slung across your body, our hand supporting you by way of your diaper. My ganglion cysts have never been so pronounced, but it’s an easy excuse in pilates class to get out of performing that hideous plank move. Sure, I could blame being horrendously out of shape, but it’s less of a blow to my ego to point to my sore wrists.

You are more and more active. You stomp and kick and fail your arms with such gusto. It all seems very violent and angry, and is typically performed with a very serious and stern face. I understand. It must take much concentration to get all those limbs moving together. Furious concentration. It has made breastfeeding more of a delicate dance, as your arms flail and claw at the air, my chest, my shirt, my hair. And the world is such an exciting and fascinating place, that it MUST BE LOOKED AT! And sometimes you try to take the nipple with you while you look, and well, just ow. Please refrain from doing that. That nipple is attached to me, ya know.

And while the world around you continues to amaze, your hands and fingers have become the most delightful and engaging of objects. Oh you love to clench those hands together and joyously shove that ball of fingers into your mouth. You slurp and drool and coo and slobber. And it sounds a bit like I’m describing a St. Bernard instead of a human infant. But when you are entertained by your hands, the drool production doubles.

I cannot get enough of that drool-stained grin.

Speaking of your grin, you continue to beam with absolute enthusiasm. Particularly when we change your diaper and your bare bummie hits the breeze. We call it the Diaper Smile. Clever, we know. Your sister shared this propensity. Let’s hope that you both get your love of public nudity out of your systems now. Otherwise you’ll be streaking Lombard Street like your Mama at age 19, and we’d prefer to not have to bail you out of jail.

We are on the verge of some serious giggles, and Daddy and I continue to overwhelm you and make the most absurd and ridiculous of faces to try to elicit them further. I realize that we may be terrifying you into giggle-silence. But one day we’ll sort out the best way to bring forth your laughter. Sadly, Hanna has destroyed Throny – his lips were just so chewably delectable.

Most notably, you are happy to sit in your Bumbo and watch your sister eat her lunch. Or lie on your play mat having conversations with your plush bugs while I take Addison to the potty. Or stomp and kick on the changing table while I read her bedtime stories. As the second child, you have been forced to become far more independent than your sister ever was at this stage. She too is having to learn this skill now that you’ve arrived, but much later in her life. Sometimes I am filled with guilt about this state of affairs. Sad that you don’t get two years of undivided attention like your sister did. But then I realize that all of this is a part of who you will become: independent, strong, self-sufficient. I see all those things in you already. And I know that they will serve you well.

Sometimes we lock eyes and a smile spreads across your face in recognition. I half expect you to exclaim, “Hey! You’re the boob lady. I like you!”

And you know what? I like you, too. A whole heck of a lot.

I only wish that you could look at me with that kind of naive, innocent perfection forever. Alas, one day I’ll do something that will chip away at the veneer. But I promise you this. To me, you will always be perfect.

143 Mama

*Note: I just went and read the letter that I wrote to Addison on her 3 month birthday. The similarities are striking – perhaps not surprising – but definitely pronounced. Apparently there are some things about these babes that are quite consistent.

November 7, 2011

Rhinestone Bangles

I’ve had this project on the back burner for a long time and I’m so happy to have finally finished it to show you all! These bangles make great sparkly accessories for the holiday season or easy DIY presents for your fabulous friends!

*NOTES: I bought a stack of 20 simple bangles at Target for less than $5. The rhinestone strands are from Michaels. You can use dots of glue to help start and finish off the thread wraps if you find it easier and less stressful than tucking and wrapping.