Dear Jensen,
You're pretty cute. This makes getting through the day with a constantly hungry little baby a lot easier. I'm not sure how it would be if you weren't cute, but I'd say at this point in your life you are living off of your looks.
This month you WOKE UP. You went from a super sleepy, snuggle-loving, lazy boy, to an alert little person. Napping is hit and miss, and when it is miss, it is my cue to turn on the dog and pony show. You don't want to just be fed, you want to eat and make noise and look around and focus on everything else but the task at hand. When you finish eating, if you haven't passed out, you expect someone to be front and center before you so you have something to stare at and examine. This can be exhausting, especially if you have woken up several times the night before.
On that subject, I finally relented and moved you into your crib. Last month we shared a bed, mostly for my own convenience, but since you had your own perfectly good bed in the same room it seemed wise to introduce you to it.
The first step is always napping. I think I can say that most babies do not know the feel of cribs or bassinets in their first weeks of life because there is always a willing pair of arms nearby to hold them while they sleep. I absolutely love having your little face tucked into my neck, your sweet baby breath tickling my skin, and subsequently, your drool covering my shirt. What I do not love about holding a sleeping baby is the feeling that you are holding a grenade that has lost it's pin. Unless you are also napping with the baby, it is nerve-wracking to be in charge of keeping the grenade from exploding. Either find yourself a comfy spot with lots of pillows to prop up your arms, or start thinking of ways to keep the grenade happy if it does, in fact, explode.
The one thing that has made the crib transition a bit easier is a lovely invention called the "sleep positioner". This little thing has survived both of your sisters before you and is still going strong almost five years later. Who knew that two little foam pieces connected by Velcro could be such a lifesaver? Not I! But it has been. Not only does this keep you from rolling onto your stomach - it also simulates you being held because we have it set just far enough apart that we can squeeze you between the two pieces comfortably. Because of this, your first crib nap was approximately four hours long. Four whole uninterrupted hours of bliss - for all of us. Do you think that I took that time to lie down and rest? Heck no! That was four hours I was never going to have back, so I took full advantage by doing several loads of laundry, paying some bills, working on the computer, vacuuming a few rooms, and putting dishes away. I may have even snuck in a quick trip to the bathroom. Praise be the napping baby.
Weeks five through eight also meant that your cute little crop of hair would start falling out in strange patterns. It didn't even fall out in a pattern we hadn't seen before, in fact, it fell out just like your sister, Freya's, did when she was your age. We lovingly refer to it as the "reverse old man" pattern baldness. I like how uniform the baldness is because it tells me that we are doing a good job of laying you on both sides and on your back when you sleep. If not, you would have one small bald patch and no hope of a comb-over with the little top mohawk you've retained. Good thing that mohawk hung around because it is really in style right now with the elementary school set. You are way ahead of your time, young man, way ahead.
Your face is already changing so much in these short first weeks. This is so hard to keep track of, being the person that spends all day with you, but is more noticeable to those who don't see you as often. I love having other people point out the similarities between you and your sisters, but also the differences. In a certain light, you have Freya's mouth. When you are wanting attention, you put on the same intense face that Ilsa has. The next day, you are completely yourself and then the cycle starts all over again.
A definite difference is that you are merely a complainer. Where some babies scream from the moment they are set down, you instead contemplate being left alone, wiggle around and wave your arms, then you begin complaining. It is hard to describe what that sounds like when the person has yet to learn words, but we liken it to an angry cat minus the hissing. You will sputter out a handful of 'yeows' and 'mrahs' until your legs get into the action and start thumping whatever is nearest to them. This is the best part of your tantrum because you forget that you were making any other kind of noise and focus on kicking as hard as you can until you get tired. Let's just say that if kicking were a sport, you would have the gold medal.
Sometimes I look at you and wonder if you like me as much as I like you. I feel like I obsess about you a little bit, though most of the time I am hiding this feeling from others because it's not like you are my first baby or my only child. But you are my last baby and my only boy, so I think I can claim this luxury and not be thought of too badly for it.
There are days that feel incredibly long and days that absolutely fly by, but each one is new and better because you are a part of it. I keep waiting for that "different" feeling to hit me - the one that comes with having a boy. So far, nothing. It could be the age as babies are just babies until they start developing boy or girl tendencies, but who is to say? Do mothers of boys feel different when they finally have a girl? Am I weird? Or at least weirder than normal? Can I finish out this letter by only writing sentences that end in question marks?
Anyway, I just have to say that I am enjoying the heck out of you. There isn't much about you that I can really complain about yet and maybe there won't be anything to complain about for a long time.
The number one question I am asked about you is, "Is he an easy baby?", and the answer is yes. But, I don't know if you are easy because you truly are not a complicated little guy, or because you are my third and I can finally honestly say that I know what I'm doing. Either way, it makes me happy to answer yes and know that I am not lying to seem like the perfect mom.
I'm far from perfect, but you are darn near as close as one could get.
Love,
Your Mama
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