The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

You are five and a half weeks old. Six weeks on Monday. Can you believe it? All of a sudden you have really long toes! Other things you might like to know…when we wrap you up at night, sometimes you look like a mummy and sometimes you look like an insane asylum inmate from an old movie. I think both are cute. When Daddy is trying to woo you to sleep, he calls you Drool Monster or Little Beauty or both, and then you two have a staring contest. At the appointed time (and he always knows when), he rubs the spot between your eyes and you fall asleep. You can’t fall asleep without him.

You don’t like to be rushed in the morning. You like to wake up all leisurely-like. I learned that the hard way when I tried to speed up our morning routine. You cried the whole way to our destination, which happened to be a mother’s group (already making me sore). When I pulled you out of your car seat, your face was covered in these big wet tears. Apparently your daddy cried those same big tears when he was a kid. Fast forward to the day when you both are standing in front of me crying those tears because Mama accidentally poisoned the family cat. Or something. My two little loves weeping the biggest bucket of tears the world has ever seen. Because of me. My heart breaks for that imagined moment.

And I am sorry, Kitten for trying to have a schedule.

You really love to go for walks in your sling. The fabric is slinky so you bounce as we walk. Usually you fall asleep and make these grunting noises. So loud are these noises that people turn and look at Mama like she is a crazy person. That is if they weren’t staring already. You see, the sight of someone walking is already novel in Riverside. Not to mention someone walking with a little bundle strapped to her chest. “What you got in there? A baby or a dog?” The Riverside population just can’t figure us out.

Your German latex-free soother is turning out to be a hit…for sucking and for tossing. It still covers half your face, but it’s a look your Mama and Daddy dig. Fashion first. We wouldn’t dream of having one of those flat, stay-in-your-mouth pacifiers. Forget it. Those are for whoosie parents. Parents who don’t want to go searching under cars in the Target parking lot with their faces in the gravel. Parents who are afraid of a rousing game of ring toss at 2 am. Don’t worry, Kitten. That’s not us. We’re always looking for fun.

But alas, your most favorite thing in the world is definitely eating. You look positively giddy and start to coo in a beautiful soprano just before you engage your masterful latch. All the moments in between are simply tolerated. Life is hard, Kitten. The vale of tears has begun. But we’re trying to make it as palatable as possible. Promise.

Love, love Mama