Sunday, August 25, 2013

Baby 2, Letter 11

Dear Lily,

You're 7 months old.  You get more adorable every day.  Your dad says I used to say it about your brother too, and it's probably true, but I swear, just when I think you can't get any cuter, you do.

Currently, I like to tell everyone that you are the "cutest thing on planet Earth."  I am not even kidding, and I know I'm your mom, but for real, you are.  You are round and sweet and you laugh a lot and dang if you don't want to crawl.  You get up on all fours, rock back and forth, and when you can't quite figure out how to move the hands and knees to accomplish forward motion, you hop.  On all fours,  you hop.  It's ridiculously cute and nothing short of awesome.  That's my girl, thinking outside the box at 7 months.

No matter what is happening in my life, how stressful work is or how worried I am about our budget or the hot water heater or the too many things that are always on my plate, when I come home to you, it all melts away.  Holding you, playing on the floor, feeding you baby food, that is my happy place.

Some mornings your dad, who gets up a little before me most days, will bring you to my bed while he showers and I'll feed you a bottle and at some point your brother will wake up and join us in the bed for a hot minute before he begs and demands oatmeal and an episode of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood.  Sometimes, during those few minutes, your dad will flop back down and there we'll all be, for about two minutes of morning bliss, and those are moments that I seriously close my eyes for just a second and think, "DO NOT FORGET THIS."  No matter what happens in my life, I will have those moments, and if nothing good ever happens to me again, it's okay, because I've had THIS.  I know that sounds cynical and even maybe a little morbid, but it's true.  I've had the best of the best, and you and your brother and your dad are all of that.

I love me a good party and we had your brother's annual Johnny and Cash birthday bash this past weekend.  You were delightful. You got passed around to lots of our friends and maybe peed on one but she happily forgave you.  Mostly, you were delightful, I should say.  Except for the peeing on Jo's dress.  Anyway, we do this party every year and this year it was extra awesome because instead of bringing a lot of toys your brother will play with for five minutes, people brought donations for the Ballard Center - the little community center where your mama works.  I cried through the whole thing.  You are blessed with THE BEST community ever.  I'm glad you and your brother can grow up with this kind of perspective.  I'm glad you'll be supported by the amazing group of people we've collected over 20 plus years in Lawrence.  This is what you get for having old parents.  You're welcome.

I'm sorry that you will probably not get to experience parties on this scale, because you have the great misfortune of having a January  birthday.  Trust me, Sister, if I'd have planned this pregnancy, it wouldn't have resulted in a winter birthday.  But, you wanted to be born in January and my girl gets what she wants.  I can already tell that about you.  If you pick up a piece of fruit off of the table while you sit in the high chair while I make dinner and then you drop it and can't reach, you cry at it.  Just for a second, but you want that lemon to know that it has wronged you.  It's not a big obnoxious fit - just a little "WAH! Hey! I wanted you and you let me drop you! Don't do it again, okay?! Okay, thanks."  I love that I see a little spunk already.  Atta girl, you're gonna need it.

I love you more than chocolate chip cookie dough and a milk crate full of Peeps.