Monday, December 24, 2012

twenty weeks

Dear Linnea,

Today marks two occasions: Christmas Eve and your being alive for 20 weeks.

I really wanted to do up the holidays for you. I had grand plans. However, we just barely managed to get a Christmas tree purchased and decorated right under the wire, I still haven't bought gifts for your grandparents, and there is currently a pile of Amazon boxes by the tree in lieu of wrapping. Maybe next year, my dear. Plus, at 17 months, you'll be more able to appreciate things like stocking stuffers, Christmas pajamas, and wrapping paper. We *did* manage to pre-purchase a giant ham for dinner. Total porky victory.

You have managed to supercede my expectations all this month. You started daycare with absolutely no issues, you've been putting yourself to sleep in your own crib, you are mostly smiles and giggles. However, you are working through a runny nose/diarrhea/insane diaper rash, and that high-pitched squeal? Up there in the whistle register? Yeah, that's back.

You are also more or less rolling over consistently...

...except when you get distracted by one of the overhanging toys.

Some of your favorite things include:
  1. Being tossed into the air.
  2. Watching/hearing someone say "babababa."
  3. Getting your feet nommed.
  4. Putting things in your mouth.

And our relationship has eased quite a bit. I am, for the first time, able to truly enjoy our time together. It's really because of how capable you are; it means that all that tight anxiety that endlessly sat like a boulder in my stomach has disappeared. I can be with you and really *be* with you, instead of constantly worrying about how we're going to teach you how to sleep on your own, or whether you're being stimulated enough, or whether you like me. Finally, all of that: gone. And thank Zeus. That leaves more time for vital things like to snuggling and playing and nomming your cheeks. I tell you kid, I never thought we'd get here, but I am finally having fun.

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