Category Archives: Monthly Letters

Dearest Hatchling,

Good god! Yesterday you turned 6 months old. How the hell did THAT happen? You’ve already been around for half a year and I still don’t know what I’m doing. That’s ok, though – we’re having a lot of fun figuring it out.

The biggest milestone this month was TEETH. You popped those two little bottom center ones and it must’ve been a big relief because man have you been talkative lately. You’re big into prehistoric noises: pterodactyl-type screeches, velociraptor-style squawks, the occasional T. Rex roar. Your favorite place to converse is lying on a pillow next to me right after you’ve nursed. (Apparently a full stomach inspires your verbal eloquence.) You’ll wax rhapsodic about … well, we’re not sure what about, but whatever it is, it’s funny as hell. You even surprise yourself sometimes and stop in mid-speech to look at me or your daddy as if to say “who made THAT noise?”

Your eating continues apace. You can down rice cereal like it’s nothing, and are now branching out into the exciting world of fruits and veggies. True to your genetic code, applesauce is by far your favorite (your grandma says your father smelled like apples for the first three years of his life due to his consumption of vast quantities of applesauce and apple juice). But you’re pretty interested in just about anything you can put in your mouth: peaches, sweet potatoes, wine glasses, styrofoam coffee cups – you know, whatever. The new foods have also taken your belching abilities to a whole new level. I’d put you up against any beer-soaked barfly, any day.

The cats are also an endless source of amusement. Fortunately, we got the training models, so they’re pretty patient about being grabbed in the face or having large tufts of fur pulled out of their tails. You get so excited when you get close to them, it’s all we can do to grab your hand and say “gentle!” which you don’t understand anyway so I’m not sure why we bother. I’m sure you’ll be an animal lover when you grow up, but right now you’re more of an animal stalker. God help the cats once you start crawling.

You were a big hit at your Tante Ellen’s wedding a few weeks ago. I can objectively state that you were the cutest baby there (and there were a lot of cute babies), and you adjusted to the new surroundings like a seasoned traveller. Not only did you exhibit great patience with the hordes of people passing you around like a plate of sandwiches, you also charmed the pants off the flight attendants, security guards, and other passengers on the plane. I wouldn’t say it’s exactly fun flying with an infant, but you get major points for bumping us up to the front of all the ticketing and check-in lines. Good going, kid!

So anyway, your daddy and I are more and more smitten with you as the days go by. You’re developing a very sweet and spunky personality, and while you do have the occasional moments of possession by the cranky demon, you’re a pretty awesome daily companion. Can’t wait to see what the next 6 months bring.

Love,
Mamala

Dearest Hatchling,

Today you are 5 months old – I can hardly believe it! We went to visit some friends who’ve just had a baby, and it didn’t seem real that you were that small such a short time ago. If you’d asked me last year, I’d’ve said that five months wasn’t really that long a period – but in baby time, it’s whole epochs. I remember thinking you had quite a personality when you were born. PAH! I spit on that notion! Your personality then was NOTHING compared to what it is now, and I’d be willing to bet this is just the beginning.

For example, we can already tell that you’re a people-pleaser. You’ll nearly always smile on cue, and even when you’re clearly a little anxious about not being in my arms, you’re extremely good-natured about letting complete strangers (to you) hold you and coo over how sweet you are. Anxiety-ridden mama that I am, I worry a little that you’ll grow up to be someone who puts the needs of other people above her own … but then I remember that I have to cut down on the crack-smoking, because HELLO! I don’t even know anyone more strong-minded, and honey: you come from a goddamn strong-minded family. Holding you the wrong way? You’ll let us know about it. Not ready to go to sleep yet? Ditto. Ready to get up, regardless of the ungodliness of the hour? We’d be fools to think there was any other option. In short, so far your ability to assert yourself seems relatively unimpaired, so we’ll put that other stuff down to your inherent good manners. God knows where you got those from.

You’re also full of new tricks, just about every day. You know your name, despite the spate of bizarre nicknames your father and I regularly apply to you. You already have certain favorite activities and toys that you “ask” for with your best nonverbal noises and gestures (read: screaming in a ‘why the hell are you just sitting there and not getting me that thing I want immediately’ kind of way. Very effective.) And you’re so much more aware of your surroundings now than you used to be. You love watching the cats in their daily routines around the house, and you spend a lot of your time just looking around, taking it all in.

One of the cutest things you’ve started doing this month is adding a whole new range of sounds to your vocabulary. This last weekend we were visiting your grandparents and you stayed up WAY past your bedtime cooing and ahhing and mmm-baaing and shrieking and just generally taking the stage. You also enjoy talking while in the car, which is highly entertaining for me while I’m driving, and infinitely preferable to your old habit of howling like someone was dipping you in molten lava. Best of all, sometimes you’ll even talk yourself to sleep. There’s nothing more likely to reduce your parents to piles of gooey mush than the sounds of your breathy little baby voice coming over the baby monitor.

Speaking of sleeping and driving, you’ve finally figured out that they go together! On longer road trips, you’ll fall asleep only if you can clutch tightly to both my index fingers, one in each hand. But on shorter trips you can go to sleep all by yourself, and with a minimum of whimpering. Since I myself typically fall asleep on any car ride longer than 20 minutes, I say you go girl. You’ll never have a more comfortable seat than this one.

One thing I’ll remember about this month is how eager you are to help us out with taking care of you. You obligingly hold your toes up while we’re changing your diaper; you grab your bottles with a killer grip and shove them optimistically, if inaccurately, in the direction of your mouth. When your daddy is feeding you, you politely guide his hands into the correct position and hold them there for the duration. And when it’s time for cereal, we can hardly get the spoon in your mouth quickly enough to prevent you from diving head first, mouth agape, into the bowl. You’re still working on those teeth, but they aren’t making you quite as grumpy as they were last month. Your favorite thing to chomp on lately is my chin; you’re practically giving me hickeys, you’re biting so hard. Tonight the physical awkwardness of this position was making me giggle, which made you giggle, so there we were on the sofa, locked together chin to mouth, giggling like maniacs. It was the best fun I ever had.

Love,
Mamala

Dearest Hatchling,

Friday you turned four months old. Your daddy and I had brought you up to Grandma and Grampa’s house so they could watch you while we went to a wedding, so it was a busy weekend. I think your grampa had his hands full with you (evidence: he put your diaper on backwards), but the mere fact that we could make such a trip shows how you’ve grown over the past month. I used to think that there was a vast right-wing conspiracy among experienced parents to hide how much the first three months of baby rearing can SUCK IT UP, but now I’m beginning to suspect that the months that come after are good enough to make people forget the hell that comes before.

Because you’re getting so fun now! It’s like your little mind is waking up and you’re just noticing more of the world. Bright colors and lights fascinate you, as do your own fingers and toes. In fact, they fascinate you so much that I’ve developed a new theory of child development: I think the first year of being a baby is probably like being on a major trip from some killer weed. Sure, there are the occasional moments of paranoia (“Where the hell have my keepers gone? What the hell is going on!?!”) but mostly it’s just, like, whoooooaaaaa, dude. HANDS. And then you get major munchies and need some boob.

Being so fascinated with the world makes it much easier to keep you entertained. I mean, you can actually ride in your carseat now for over ten minutes without screaming! Even when you’re awake! This is major stuff, kid. You’re not so big on lying down these days, but if you can sit or stand and look around you’re good to go. You’re also getting smilier and smilier with each passing day, and you’ll flash those gums at just about anyone (random old guy on the sidewalk) or anything (the striped curtains in the living room) that tickles your funny bone.

What’s even more amazing about this transformation is that it’s happening in the face of some hurdles. Apparently no one told you that babies aren’t supposed to teeth or get separation anxiety until around month 6, because you’ve gone ahead and started both things now. Oh, your gums hurt so much sometimes! You chomp on your little fists or our fingers as if your life depended on it, and drool like it’s your personal mission to coat the world in viscous baby saliva. Tylenol and Anbesol help a lot, but you still end up being manic depressive baby some days – giving us huge grins one moment and making the saddest face ever the next. We sure will be happy when those little buds start pushing through.

The separation anxiety is a little rough, too. You used to be so good about letting your hordes of adoring relatives and friends hold you and play with you, but alas, no longer. You’ll still go to other people, but you need a half an hour to warm up to them, and even then it still helps if you can see me in the room. Woe betide the well-meaning person who greets you by getting right up in your face and saying hello or blowing a raspberry at you: they’re more likely to get a storm of insta-screams than one of your killer smiles. This makes it a little more heartrending for us to leave you with babysitters, but we keep doing it just the same, in hopes that you’ll eventually figure out that other people are not necessarily the devil.

But really, these are just small obstacles to navigating through your little baby world. Every day you’re more and more engaged with the people and things around you, and every week you learn a new trick or find a new talent. Best of all, and I hesitate to even mention this for fear of jinxing it, you’re starting to sleep like a real person. This last week you’ve actually taken a 90 minute nap every morning, and another one most afternoons. You can even soothe yourself back to sleep sometimes when you wake up at night. Honestly, for a while there I thought you were going to go all Einstein on us and only ever sleep in 40 minute increments for the rest of your life. Maybe this new pattern means you’ll never resolve any major questions in quantum physics, but frankly I’m willing to sacrifice any potential Nobels for a good night’s sleep. Let’s make it a date, shall we?

Love,
Mamala

We made it! You’re through the “fourth trimester” and by all accounts things should start getting a little easier from here on out. This month was already easier than last month, so let’s keep that upward trend!

One of your favorite things to do lately is kick and push with your little legs. Most of the time you can roll yourself over onto your tummy, and then you strain and strain to get back on your back until I give you some help. You’ve also become a wizard at wriggling out of your swaddling – Daddy calls you his little Houdini. Unfortunately, your magic powers don’t yet extend to sleeping much longer than two hours a pop at night and 30-40 minutes during the day. See if you can work on that, ok? You wouldn’t even believe what an awesome Mama I could be with a few more hours sleep.

Your biggest milestone this month as far as I’m concerned is that you laughed. You only did it once, but now that we know you can your Daddy and I have been trying every trick in the book to make you do it again. We’re basically complete whores for baby laughter – it’s like crack to us. (Note to self: do not let the Hatchling read these posts until she’s old enough to think crack jokes are funny.) Even when you’re just smiling, the smiles have gotten bigger and more joyful than they were last month. I’m sure it won’t be long until you figure out that your smiles and laughter will pretty much make us forgive you for anything. Lord help us then!

One way we can tell you’re getting older is that you can stay up longer than an hour at a time now without getting cranky. You’re also just beginning to take an interest in some of the baby toys we have. You still aren’t so good at grabbing or holding on to anything – you still haven’t quite figured out that your hands belong to you – but anything with lights or music is instantly fascinating. I’m hoping this explains the uncanny attraction you have to the TV right now. You loooooove watching the TV, nestled in my or your daddy’s arms.

Some of this may be genetic, as both of your parents are professional-level couch potatoes. As soon as you get to the point where you can start actually understanding what you’re seeing I’m planning on cutting us off, cold turkey, since I really don’t want you watching TV until you’re at least 2. (We’ll see how long that plan lasts.) But for now it’s the best light and sound show we’ve got, and sometimes it’s the only thing that will quiet you down. Add it to what I’m sure will be a lengthy list of bad parenting maneuvers on my part. Your therapist will be fascinated.

In a few days, you and I will be flying out to stay for a week at our family lake cottage in Canada. Daddy has to stay home, but Aunt Squony will be coming along to help me take care of you. I’m a little nervous about taking you on a plane – I don’t want to be one of those parents with a screaming baby who pisses off all the other passengers – but I must say that in general you charm everyone you meet, even when you’re fussy. I can’t go anywhere in public with you without someone stopping me to say what a beautiful baby you are. Sure, sometimes they think you’re a boy baby, but we put that down to people’s outdated notions about wearing the color blue. They’re right, too – you ARE a beautiful baby, inside and out. I’m so glad that I didn’t have to go back to work just when you’re getting interesting. We may have to survive on peanut butter and mac and cheese for a few years, but I wouldn’t give up this time with you for anything.

Love,
Mamala

Dearest Hatchling,

Oy. This has been a rough 30 days. Your doctor says the time between 1 and 2 months is the hardest period, and lord I hope that’s the case because if it gets any harder I’m going to have to do something radical like accept Jesus as my Personal Lord and Savior and Give All My Troubles Unto Him. And nobody wants to see that.

On the plus side, you’ve learned how to coo and do real smiles this month, and there’s just about nothing cuter. You’re really smiling at us now, not just sort of practicing your facial muscles. We get big grins in the morning especially, and you also love to smile and talk at your Daddy when he’s giving you your medicine. You tell long stories composed of “ah-AHHhhh” and “oohaaahh” and “eh” – and really, it’s surprising the range of expression you can deliver with such a limited vocabulary. You especially like your Grandma Carol’s face and voice; she can get a story out of you even when you’re fussy, which lately is A LOT.

The classic case of colic starts at two weeks, so we thought we were out of the woods, but as soon as you hit 6 weeks old you started making up for lost time. Our previously well-behaved infant disappeared, and in her place is a howling, cranky, gassy, fuss-pot. Oh, you don’t cry all the time, and I know some parents, god love them, have it much worse. But you manage to wear us out nevertheless. The worst part of it is that you keep tantalizing us with a good day here and there, a day where you sleep and sleep, and wake up in a good mood and we have so much fun. But then that’s followed by three or four days where you’re all, “Sleep? What are you, NUTS? Sleep is for pussies! Real babies cry, dammit, and I’m nothing if not a real baby!” The only place you’ll sleep longer than 1/2 hour is next to me, after nursing. I’ve been logging in some loooooooong hours on the sofa this month, kiddo. This last week you’ve coupled this disdainful attitude towards Morpheus with an absolutely ravenous hunger, so not only am I sleep-deprived but my poor nipples feel like they’re going to FALL OFF. Oh, for the boobies of yesteryear, those hallowed bygone days when I had tits instead of teats.

But. For all that you can be a royal pain in the ass, I must admit that you’re still worth it. For one thing, when you’re not crying (and sometimes even when you are, actually), you’re still so damn cute I could eat you up. And now that we’ve finally got this breastfeeding thing down, it’s awfully gratifying to watch you get chubbier and chubbier. You finally fit into your clothes, which is a good thing since your Grandma Kathy got you so many outfits you could pretty much wear something new every day of the week. And now that you’re a little more … conscious … than you were last month, it’s more and more fun to play and talk with you. I know you’re trying your best to sort out this whole outside-the-womb thing, and I’m sure it’s crazy-confusing, so we’ll cut you some slack. But see if you can adopt a more Zen attitude in future, OK? I mean, colic is just sooooooo last month.

Love,
Mamala

Dearest Hatchling,*

You are one month old today – and what a month it’s been! I can hardly believe it’s been a whole 30 days since I was in the hospital trying to push you out (sorry about that whole being stuck in the birth canal and having to do a c-section instead thing – both your daddy and I have plus-sized craniums so you got a double whammy, genetically speaking).

I can’t say I exactly enjoyed the birth process, but I was soooo happy to finally meet you when you came out. And you’re such a beautiful baby! Everyone says so, it’s not just your parents who are besotted. Your perfect little button nose, your yummy toes and hands that I like to nibble on, your precious round fat tummy and your downy hair – it’s all delectable. Even your baby acne (which your grandfather calls “the beezles”) is cute.

You’ve been interactive from the start – you were cooing at the doctors before they even got your whole body out of me. Right now your daddy and I enjoy what we call your “monster” or “frankenbaby” noises – the little grunts you make when you’re hungry, or gassy, or pooping. It’s a multipurpose noise, but it definitely communicates your strong intentions with regard to whatever it is you’re doing. (Daddy sometimes translates it as “Boob GOOOOD. Bottle BAAAAD. Aaaaah.”)

You’re definitely strong-minded (wherever could that have come from?), and we’ve already had our tussles over breastfeeding, wearing hats, sleeping in the crib, etc., etc. I love that you already have such personality, and while I’m a bit fearful of your adolescent years, I really can’t wait to watch your character blossom in the coming months and years. Before you came, I’d read other parents talking about the huge rush of love they felt for their children, how you never really know how much you can love a person until you have a child. I know not every parent feels that right away, but both your daddy and I have been head over heels with you from the very first moment we saw you. We waited a long time for you, little Hatchling, and worked and worried and hoped and prayed for many months while you were getting ready to come out. We know how very, very lucky we are to have you for our own. And while I promise we’ll do our best not to smother you with parental affection and anxiety, I also hope you always know we love you entirely, no matter what.

Love,
Mamala

*All props to dooce, the original and irreplaceable writer of monthly letters.