Posted by: Ingrid | November 24, 2011

One Month: Don’t Crash the Baby

Dear Jonathan,

Provided that you and your brother take simultaneous naps on consecutive days you might end up with monthly letters just like your brother!  Imagine that!  I have always wanted to not let baby number two end up with no pictures or records kept.  I would rather take pictures now than pay for therapy later because you feel like no one loved you.

I figured I could commit to writing monthly letters for the first year for all of my children, even though your father has already told me that, being boys, neither of you will care.  Though I begin to see how at some point you start asking whether at nap time you blog about baby #2, pay the bills, take a nap, or resign from parenting all together.  That last option seems to have merit these days.

It is Thanksgiving Day as you hit the one month mark, and we are very thankful.  We are thankful for you, thankful for our family and all of the ways we have been blessed, thankful for the people around us, and (personally) I am thankful to no longer be pregnant.  You are thankful that you have not been sat upon, poked excessively, or kicked or hit (too hard) by your brother the toddler.  I swear that your eyes roll in fear when you hear him enter your personal space.

From my vantage point, I never thought that I would have to tell Isaac, “Don’t crash the baby!”*

My personal verdict is still out when it comes to your appearance.  At times I think you are just the cutest little thing ever and I want to gobble up your adorable smushy cheeks and chin chins.  At other times I look at you and think: What a shame there is such a thing as baby acne.  And how are you so round and red?  When did I give birth to Bob the Tomato?  And why do you insist on looking like a particularly bad tempered old man?  

I think what gets me thinking most about your appearance is when people comment that while Isaac is a little Clint, you look just like me.  Now first of all, we both have dark hair (yes, you still have hair – sideburns, even, if you look close)

but aside from that all I can think is that in some lights you look like Chris Farley and in others you look like Vizzini from The Princess Bride.  Sometimes you look like Jabba the Hut.  And that’s when I wonder exactly how complimentary those comments are.  To either of us.

I am not sure if I would like for you to be a tad more introverted like me or if you should continue the pronounced extroverted male trend in our family so that you and your brother can talk incessantly and mommy can go journal or read a good book.  Either way, I am thinking you might be a list maker, just like me.

At a month old, you are happily working on your collection of chins and rounding out nicely.  When you first arrived, all 7 pounds and 7 ounces of you, you looked like a little chicken with your knees pulled up to your chest.  Now that you are nearing 10-ish pounds, you are definitely more in the Butterball turkey stage and we are having difficulty fastening your Swaddlers around your enormous baby girth.

You are definitely an eater and you are very very round.  Never have I thought that I would tell people that my baby just nursed on all three sides (odd visual, yes?) but there you are, going back and forth and back and forth until you pass out into ecstatic milky baby oblivion.

We are getting more smiles from you these days, although when you were five days old I could swear (as could the nurse in the room) that you were smiling responsively.

Occasionally when you sleep a smile will flit across your face and in those moments I always think you are absolutely precious.  I also wonder if you are dreaming of a possible world in which mom is yelling at you: Don’t crash the toddler!  Also precious is cuddling with you under my chin and falling asleep with my warm snuggly infant on my chest.  Waking up and realizing that I’ve drooled all over your head is not quite so adorable, but sleep deprivation will do that to a person.

You are a good little sleeper over all, at least during the day.  You slept especially well at first, causing your dad and I undo concern as we wondered what was wrong with you.  Unfortunately since you are the second we have been slow to swaddle you and get you on any sort of a schedule, which maybe I should start thinking about.

Even at night, you do decently.  I remember your brother would wake up crying, really and truly crying, every few hours to eat.  Maybe you know that your toddler brother is sleeping in the next room or maybe I just sense you waking up, but you generally don’t cry.  Most of the time I hear you snuffling and sucking whatever you can get your mouth on; hands, blanket, whatever.  When I actually managed to get my head off the pillow I usually see you making exagerated sucking motions with your mouth and oggling me.  Your eyes always manage to look beady in the dim light of the room, giving you the look of a slightly possessed blue-eyed chipmunk.

You are definitely starting to explore your world as much as you can: stretching your arms, looking around, gazing into people’s eyes, kicking your little legs, and raising your non-existent eyebrows as your hands flail past your face.  You are wonderfully expressive as you stretch and stir into wakefulness.  Never has waking up seemed to take so. much. effort.  I am hopeful that month two will hold perhaps more than one bathing session – we seem to be taking a very medieval approach to the whole bathing the baby in actual water.

Next month we also plan to teach you important things: how to stand on your head to get rid of your frequent hiccups, how to convince you that Michigan babies sleep on their backs, and how to minimize your multiple chins when people are taking pictures of you – it’s all in the angle.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy your growing and changing and delightful snuggliness as well as the chaotic crazy that is now our sleep deprived family life.



*”Crash the baby” involves any type of toy truck, car, or train, that is run full-speed ahead by the toddler into the baby.  A favorite game of Isaac’s when he can get away with it.



  1. So glad you started those letters again. They make me smile (and shed a tear sometimes, I admit) everytime I read them, and they so full of love that I really hope that your husband is wrong and that even as boys, yours will read them one day 🙂

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