3 Months

Happy three month birthday, Evelyn!

Suddenly, you are no longer an infant. You're a real baby who can sit up with a little help and support your own head, play with toys, and happily exist on your own for as much as 15 minutes at a time. Thanks, by the way, for working so hard on your neck strength. Our lives are way easier now that we can just sling you over a shoulder or toss you in your front pack without having to worry about your bobble head. Also on the making-our-lives-easier list: you hardly even cry anymore! Yesterday, at Baby Boot Camp you were happy the whole time, including the car ride. What? A dinner out the same night without one wail. Whaat? Is this a pattern? Are we ready to emerge into the wide world without fear of meltdowns? Just kidding, there will always be meltdowns, but seriously baby, you're spoiling us.

You're also enormous. Do you have the same trainer as A-Rod? Somebody must be slipping you something, because you had outgrown one of your 3-6 month sleepers BEFORE you turned three months old. This is not cool, daughter of mine. As much as I love shopping for clothes for you, I'm thinking we'll just cut holes in pillowcases for you, because it just doesn't make fiscal sense to buy you new outfits every 6 hours. Besides, you're so cute, you can totally rock a pillowcase. Hey, we'll even spring for some patterned ones! THAT'S how much we love you, kiddo.

You've already given us the best Christmas gift we could ever ask for; your sweet self. Add to that your sleeping through the night, the coos and gurgles, and your gummy little smile, and there's really nothing else we could ask for.

Love,
your Ma and Pa

On our way to Jazz Hands!

Our clever little monkey has figured out that the little appendages at the ends of her arms (not that she really knows she has arms yet...) are hers, and that they can be bent to her will. Mostly, this involves stuffing her hands into her mouth, sometimes two at a time, but she has also been figuring out the whole cause and effect thing. For example, when she gets a fistful of Mommy’s hair first thing in the morning and pulls, this ensures that Mommy is fully awake and ready to cater to her whims. Mommy’s hair is going to be in a ponytail for the next six years.

Okay, so the hair grabbing is (I think) an accident, but during tonight’s bath, she was studying the faucet and then grabbed it and kept her hand there. It’s probably an involuntary baby thing, but she also brings anything and everything that’s near her hands into her mouth.


Here's a little video of her using her hands to startle herself by moving her toy into her face. It also serves to show just how easily impressed I am by our kiddo. Hey, it's my prerogative as her Mom to be absurdly proud of normal baby progress, alright? And that's what I do all day long, in case you were wondering: entertain the baby and narrate her existence to her in a goofy voice. It makes me really glad I went ahead and did the double major with Econ and International Studies in college.

Thanksgiving

This year, I have more to be thankful for than seems fair. Every morning I have to pinch myself, because how can this really be my life? I have the most beautiful and perfectly healthy baby that's ever existed, and the greatest husband in history. This is a man who comes home from work to take care of the baby and get her to bed (it's not as easy as it sounds, believe me), and shoos me out the door so that I can go play ultimate. He also rubs my shoulders and plays along when I blame the dog for certain odors.

And, um, I'm also thankful for the fact that I'm so punctual. I can still do a Thanksgiving post! It's just the first week of December. When I finally get around to posting Ev's cutie-pie Halloween outfit, then you can make fun of me for being late.

(This is about the only face that I can catch her making in photos because she's fascinated by the camera and stares at it intensely for as long as it's in her sight line. I've also failed to catch her "talking" because of the same deal; she'll be cooing and squeaking and gurgling up a storm, but the second she sees the camera, it's silent concentration. I'm not giving up, though.)

Chub monster

Unfortunately, I'm not a very good photographer. I also only seem to remember to take pictures after dark, and my lack of skill plus a point and shoot indoors with lousy lighting makes for some poor pictures. I'm going to be posting more anyways, because I know y'all are clamoring for more shots of the little darling, and it's kind of stupid to keep waiting for a better shot. Here you go! Many more to come, of questionable quality, but hey. No photo could capture her angelic qualities anyway.

Two months

Happy two month birthday, my little poop monster!

Despite the fact that I tell you every day to stop growing dagnabbit! I just want to enjoy my tiny baby a little bit longer!, you persist in getting absolutely enormous. Thirteen and a half pounds! Granted, each cheek weighs a pound easy, which helps add to the total, but geez! You're in the 97th percentile for your weight. And you're tall, too... not quite 97th percentile tall, and not even 90th like last month. More like 80th. Which means that you're a very, er, healthy baby. So healthy that the doctor, upon examining your thigh when she was about to give you your shot, decided to use a bigger needle, because the one she usually uses for two month olds wouldn't make it through your layer of chub! I could have told her that. Your Dad and I snack on those thighs every day when we change you, and boy, are they plump and juicy. No wonder I'm still not back in my pre-pregnancy pants. You're growing so fast that I think I'll just put aside the clothes I was wearing before I got pregnant for you to wear. At this rate, you should be in them by the end of this year.

You're also brilliant. I think your biggest milestone this month was learning to smile. There's no better reason for getting out of bed than to say good morning to you and see your little face light up with that goofy, gummy, grin when you see me again after a long sleep. Your Daddy can't wait to see you when he comes home from work, too. Your favorite is the "Leg Game", where he wiggles your legs back and forth while singing a little song, and you make delighted faces and gurgle at him. I'm amazed how quickly you learned to love us and how much you enjoy just sitting in our laps as we chat with you. You can even follow us around the room with your eyes, and I'm pretty sure you finally figured out that the dog is a living breathing thing. I can't blame you for taking two months to pick up on his existence; he doesn't move much. You also love to talk with us, and you make all sorts of insanely adorable coos and gurgles as you tell us all about what's going on in your baby world. Honestly, I think that I'd be okay with you sticking with that level of "speech". At least then you'll never learn to talk back.

Your eyesight has improved immensely, too. Right now, you're particularly fascinated with the necklace I've been wearing. You spend at least 20 minutes every day contentedly transfixed by it, and I've promised to give it to you when you're older. It's enough to make a Mama cry thinking about how I'll give it to you and tell you all about how I used to hold you for hours and we'd just gaze at each other, and you'd stare and stare at that necklace and make me laugh. And, being a teenager, you'll probably roll your eyes and say, "Whatever." It's so hard for me to believe that someday I won't need to sit next to you, ready to catch you if you start to tip over or if your neck gets tired from holding your sweet little head up. It's probably a good thing; it'd be a little awkward by the time you're in college.

At least for now you're still snuggled up against my chest, your favorite place to nap. And if, after a big weekend at college, you do need someone to hold your head up during your 9 am Intro to Philosophy class, give me a call. I'll always be there for you, little one. You'll always be my baby.

Love,
Mom

But what about the Polar Bears??

I found out today that I've been a terrible parent. It's not just the beatings, either. Ever since we got the whole nursing thing down, I've sometimes been WATCHING TV while I feed her. I'm expecting a knock on the door from the authorities shortly after I post this, because HOW COULD I? I just found out that because she's been hearing the sweet sounds of The Golden Girls and Lost, I have not only ruined her chances at getting into Stanford (although that went out the window that time when she was a week old and we were struggling with nursing her and I gave her two ounces of *gasp* formula) but am almost certainly raising a serial killer.

I know that I'm supposed to be talking to her all the time, ideally in Mandarin and Spanish to get her a head start, and I really do try to stimulate her all day when she's up. We look at colorful toys, and I even read to her already. We still haven't quite made it all the way through Pat the Bunny without her losing interest, but I'm trying! We do tummy time, and standing time, and singing and dancing in the kitchen time. (There will be no videos of the singing and dancing in the kitchen time. Sorry if your hopes have been dashed.) But honestly, after 5 days a week of doing these, um, fascinating activities, Sweet Baby Jesus, I just want to look at adults and hear them speak! I don't even care that they're not real, they're having conversations. With each other!

Oh well. Maybe when she's in college.

Champion Hula-Hooper?

Here is a little video proving that little Miss Evelyn is on her way to standing on her own two feet in this world. They just need to be a little bit farther apart, and the knees need to get less rickety. But she can be proud and hold her head up high! Most of the time anyway...