Posted by: Ingrid | November 10, 2009

Three Months: Who ordered the observational chatterbox?


Dear Isaac,


From your first days with us you seemed very alert and observant for one so young.  Now that you’re three months you continue your careful observation of the world around you with an intensity that is slightly unnerving at times.  What do you see when you watch me so intently and what is going through that (enormous) head of yours?  This month, your powers of observation found a voice and also reminded me that you are indeed the product of two very different human beings.  I vaguely recall experts writing about women needing to use more words during the day than men.  Dude, you are so not following that rule!

Hearing you find your voice has been one of the most entertaining and endearing bits of motherhood to date.  The way you catch my eye and begin contorting your mouth to make all of these new noises is a sight not to miss.


You love getting our attention and you love keeping it by “conversing” in some unknown language.  I am willing to say that you know the word “hi” and can actually repeat it back to us.  Of course, when we then move onto hello, salutations, bonjour, and buenos dias you look a little lost.  I did not know that saying things like “ah-goo” were actual developmental milestones, but when I read that fact I was thrilled that you’ve been saying noises like that all month, a feat which effectively weakened my resolve not to cave into the typical goo-goo baby talk.  I tried to get you to do the hi bit here, but you proceeded to not cooperate, although you do look very cute.

Not only are you willing to talk all day but you also find yourself awake and chatty at, say, 4:00 am.  You will then proceed to talk to yourself until you get tired enough to fall asleep.  As cute as this is, the fact that your Pack N’ Play sits right by my ear is leading me to believe that you will be moving to your room soon.  You also talk yourself to sleep at nap time and bed time, sometimes fussing a few minutes and then quieting down and complaining to yourself about how your mean parents want you to sleep again until you drift off to sleep.  Then you wake up talking too, softly at first, then raising the volume until I come and get you.  You rarely cry unless I wait to long, which is nice but which also becomes a game as I start trying to figure out just how much I can get done before you go from happily babbling to roaring Woman get me now!


We’re still working on teaching you that talking with your mouth full is impolite but we haven’t had much success on that front.  I suppose I should just be glad that on those occasions when you both try to air your grievances and eat you haven’t started biting as well.  Let’s put off teething for a bit, okay?

We are still swaddling you but A) you don’t like it much and B) you no longer resemble the cute little eggroll we brought home from the hospital.


You are quite strong now and our attempts to swaddle you are met with immediate resistance as you work your hands out of the wrap and up to your mouth.  Because nothing tastes as good as your hands!  Nothing!  While trying to wriggle out of your bindings you flap your feet up and down, looking like a beached muslin wrapped whale whapping the ground with it’s fin.  It’s pretty funny watching you get so annoyed.

You are a big baby.  I was a little surprised at your two-month appointment to find that you were in the 90% for head size and weight.  I know that it shouldn’t have phased me at all, but it did.  And when you hit 15 pounds the other day… how are you already eating and growing like a teenage boy?!?  You are completely out of the 0-3 month clothes and moving up into the 3-6 month selection like there’s some sort of prize at the end for the fastest grow-er.  You also have the most adorable dimpled thighs… the type you might see in a Ruben’s painting.


I know, I know, someday you will be horribly embarrassed that I ever made the comparison, but they are delightful!  Your size is actually quite nice now that the weather is turning cold.  You keep more of me warm when I snuggle you against me and (I hate to admit this) your head is an endless source of warmth.  This led to your Dad trying to defend you the other day as I rested my hands on your head.  Wait, are you really putting your freezing cold hands on our son’s massive cranium? I think I gave him some answer that involved my giving birth to you and therefore having some right to your warmth.  Something like that.


You are not stingy with your smiles these days.  You are delighted to grin and babble at us, to grin when we pick you up, to smile when I say I love you.  Thus far you seem to have a delightful sense of humor and enjoy being with people.


The latter especially is good, since now that I stay home with you all day I’m more than willing to pass you off to nice people who don’t look like they’ll run off with you.  Fortunately you are good-natured enough to oblige.

Sleep is another thing you do well.  A couple of naps along with a broken up 12 hours at night seem to work well for you.  I’ve discovered that The Baby Whisperer’s “dream feeding” really does exist, and that if I put you down at 7:30 and nurse you at 10:30 without waking you up you’ll let me sleep until 4:30 or 5:00 which is about as blissful as it’s going to get for a while, I think.


At the beginning of this month you didn’t seem to know or care that you have hands.  Somewhere in the past few weeks you discovered they exist and can be used to hold onto things.  Mainly to hold onto things that you’re trying to shove in your mouth.  It’s starting already.  Whenever possible you try to taste things, opening your mouth like a baby bird and trying to eat your rattles, clothing that goes over your head, and the cloth we use to cover you in the middle of a diaper change.


You are so excited to be able to eat your clothes that you no longer struggle during the epic battle to get shirts over your over-sized head.  Instead, you squeal and shiver in delight knowing that the shirt passes right by your mouth and you can catch it as it slides by.  You have also discovered the joy of pulling hair, which is not nearly as funny as watching you try to eat your clothes.

You’re growing up so fast, little guy, that I can hardly believe that you’re the same tiny newborn we brought back from the hospital when we knew nothing about babies and you knew nothing about life.  I love your excitement, when you flail your arms and look like you’re running in place, I love that you think it’s hilarious when I make buzzing noises with my lips and that your response can get me to do that in public without thinking about it, I love it when I’m singing to you and you stop nursing, look at me, and start making noise like you’re trying to sing too, I even like your newest trick of quivering your lips when something goes wrong.  You really are growing up way too fast.

You are, however, still small enough to fall asleep on my lap, and I don’t think that will get old for a very long time.




But wait!  There are more pictures that didn’t fit all the words I had!


Cue the William Tell Overture and shoot the arrow at the woman who dared think of taking this picture…


When you really want to get things done, involve the baby.  You don’t seem too keen on playing the piano yet.


Our attempt to introduce you to the joys of literacy was met with the same apathy.  One of these days…



  1. What a cutie! Big-headed babies are a favorite of mine (I’ve got a 90th percentile-headed baby). Have you found that he hates clothes like onesies and shirts being put on because they are tight around the noggin?

    BTW, I’ve finally mastered the dream feeding, too. Not sure why it was such a disaster the first time and then super easy a month later.

    Laura 🙂

    • Laura, Isaac hates hats. I think it’s mostly because they’re all too small and pop off his head or they’re too big and are forever falling over his eyes. Shirts and onesies aren’t a problem right now as he likes being able to chew on the collar. Sometimes when they shirt is particularly tight though, he’ll get very excited and then look bewildered once I finally wrestle his head through. Oh the trauma of baby clothes…

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