Dear Jack,
I am having a little bit of a hard time right now. You see, I love my job. Teaching Kindergarten is a lot of fun and it's rewarding and I happen to think I'm pretty good at it, and being good at a thing almost always makes it even more enjoyable.
So here we are, the end of July, and I am excited to be starting a new school year. I've been up to the room and looked over the furniture, deciding how to arrange it. I've started contemplating new centers I want to put together in the next few weeks. In short, I have begun to switch gears from being a mom to being a teacher.
That means that you also have to switch gears. You have to go from nursing to bottle feeding, from being held while you sleep to being able to sleep on your own, from being with someone who can spend an hour watching you sleep, or marveling at the cuteness of your toes to being with someone who just likes you a lot.
And I simply cannot help but feel maternal guilt for all of that. Especially since I am excited to be going back to work at the very same time that I am sorry that means you have to go to day care.
I think you are going to like day care. You'll get to be around other babies and kids and the lady I take you to is really good at her job. I've taken you to day care for a couple of half days this week and although you had some trouble taking a bottle that very first day, you did eventually eat and seemed very full and content when I picked you up.
Finally, even though you might, at some level, rather stay at home all day with me, that's not really how I work. All of the cool things I like to do with you and and your sister and all of the fun we're going to have as you get older are a function of me getting out of the house and doing something for other people's kids for part of the day. It leaves me excited for every minute I get to spend with you because I'm not with you all the time.
In short, for me, working at a job I love when I'm away from you makes me a better mother when we're together. That's really why I do it.
Love,
Mom
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Not Rocket Science
Dear Jack,
It's not rocket science. It's not even a full roll. But I think purposefully rolling from your back to your side at just over two months is pretty amazing.
It's not rocket science. It's not even a full roll. But I think purposefully rolling from your back to your side at just over two months is pretty amazing.
Love,
Mom
Mom
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Baby Legs
Dear Jack,
Here's another one for your baby book: BabyLegs. Fad? Trend? The start of something wonderful? A terrible 80's flashback?
I have no idea. But I sure do think you look adorable wearing them.
Love,
Mom
Here's another one for your baby book: BabyLegs. Fad? Trend? The start of something wonderful? A terrible 80's flashback?
I have no idea. But I sure do think you look adorable wearing them.Love,
Mom
Sunday, July 26, 2009
He's Getting So Big!
Dear Jack,
It seems like everywhere we go these days, when we run into someone who knows you, they all say the very same thing,
"He's getting so big!"
I'm actually a little annoyed with that phrase (but maybe just because I'm enjoying this little baby time a lot). Nevertheless, I keep having to agree with it....
"He's getting so big!"
Because on the one hand, I guess you are. I took you to the doctor for your two month shots (boy, you hated those) and you now weigh in at 12 pounds, 12 and half ounces and are 24 inches long. That puts you around the 75% in both weight and height for babies your age.
Even compared to the 9 pounds, 4 ounces, 22 inch baby that came into the world just over two months ago, you are getting so big.
You can hold your head up for fairly long periods of time. You can face forward in the Baby Bjorn carrier and look out on the world. You sit up well in your Bumbo chair. You can inch yourself on the floor by pushing with your feet. You follow things with your eyes and seem very interested in the world around you.
I put you in a polo shirt and shorts for church today. That's what big boys wear to church.
So, yes, you are getting so big.
But before we get carried away, Mister, I do want to point out that your big boy shirt has a line of spit-up on it.
You may be growing at an astonishing rate, but you are still a little baby. So let's not break out the college applications just, yet.
Love,
Mom
It seems like everywhere we go these days, when we run into someone who knows you, they all say the very same thing,
"He's getting so big!"
I'm actually a little annoyed with that phrase (but maybe just because I'm enjoying this little baby time a lot). Nevertheless, I keep having to agree with it....
"He's getting so big!"
Because on the one hand, I guess you are. I took you to the doctor for your two month shots (boy, you hated those) and you now weigh in at 12 pounds, 12 and half ounces and are 24 inches long. That puts you around the 75% in both weight and height for babies your age.
Even compared to the 9 pounds, 4 ounces, 22 inch baby that came into the world just over two months ago, you are getting so big.
You can hold your head up for fairly long periods of time. You can face forward in the Baby Bjorn carrier and look out on the world. You sit up well in your Bumbo chair. You can inch yourself on the floor by pushing with your feet. You follow things with your eyes and seem very interested in the world around you.
I put you in a polo shirt and shorts for church today. That's what big boys wear to church.
So, yes, you are getting so big.
But before we get carried away, Mister, I do want to point out that your big boy shirt has a line of spit-up on it.
You may be growing at an astonishing rate, but you are still a little baby. So let's not break out the college applications just, yet.
Love,
Mom
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A Day Away
Dear Jack,
Yesterday was a big day for you. I had a summer staff development day, so you had to be away from me all day long. It was the first time we had been apart for more than an hour or so. I did better than I thought I would and you did great (in large part because of the loving care Kristi Bruton and her girls gave you).
But it still makes me a little sad that it signifies the end of our days of hanging out together, sun up to sun down. I try to remind myself that sun down to sun up we'll still be snuggled together.
It's not exactly what I would want, but until they let little babies attend Kindergarten, it's the best we'll have.
See you tonight.
Love,
Mom
Yesterday was a big day for you. I had a summer staff development day, so you had to be away from me all day long. It was the first time we had been apart for more than an hour or so. I did better than I thought I would and you did great (in large part because of the loving care Kristi Bruton and her girls gave you).
But it still makes me a little sad that it signifies the end of our days of hanging out together, sun up to sun down. I try to remind myself that sun down to sun up we'll still be snuggled together.
It's not exactly what I would want, but until they let little babies attend Kindergarten, it's the best we'll have.
See you tonight.
Love,
Mom
Saturday, July 18, 2009
A Mystery
Dear Jack,
I have a little bit of a mystery on my hands, and unfortunately, you are the only one who can clear things up.
This is how I left you this afternoon:
This is how you were when I came back a few minutes later to check on you:
Now, I have seen you inch along by pushing your feet into the blanket and I know you happily flail about with enough strength and gusto to flip yourself, so maybe you just rolled over for the first time. But any good investigator knows to check all the facts, and the fact is your sister was in the room with you at the time and may have been something of an accomplice to this rolling feat.
Since neither of you are forthcoming with information about the incident, the mystery may remain unsolved. Which irritates me because I want so badly to know whether or not to put this down in your baby book as the first time you rolled over (which I think it is) or to remind your sister to be careful of you (which she has always been).
In either case, your days of hanging out alone on my bed while I get ready in the mornings are officially over, just to be on the safe side.
Love,
Mom
P.S. Here's a video of you smiling. Since I wasn't able to capture the rolling over on film, I settled for making a video of your other latest accomplishment.
I have a little bit of a mystery on my hands, and unfortunately, you are the only one who can clear things up.
This is how I left you this afternoon:
This is how you were when I came back a few minutes later to check on you:
Now, I have seen you inch along by pushing your feet into the blanket and I know you happily flail about with enough strength and gusto to flip yourself, so maybe you just rolled over for the first time. But any good investigator knows to check all the facts, and the fact is your sister was in the room with you at the time and may have been something of an accomplice to this rolling feat.
Since neither of you are forthcoming with information about the incident, the mystery may remain unsolved. Which irritates me because I want so badly to know whether or not to put this down in your baby book as the first time you rolled over (which I think it is) or to remind your sister to be careful of you (which she has always been).
In either case, your days of hanging out alone on my bed while I get ready in the mornings are officially over, just to be on the safe side.
Love,
Mom
P.S. Here's a video of you smiling. Since I wasn't able to capture the rolling over on film, I settled for making a video of your other latest accomplishment.
Friday, July 17, 2009
In the Moment
Dear Jack,
You are two months old today and my challenge these days with you is enjoying the moment, without dwelling on the past, or worrying about the future.
In the past: You have already changed so much from birth. You are bigger, more alert, stronger. You are an infant, no longer a newborn. You can hold your head up, smile and make eye contact. I mourn the loss of those newborn days, and in that loss, I cling to everything about you today and anticipate the loss of it all... of nursing you, of midnight feedings, of an hour or more of just sitting and holding you.
In the future: I'll be going back to work in exactly a month, on your three month birthday. Between now and then, you and I have to break our rhythm of nursing which we have both enjoyed so much and help you learn to take a bottle and be soothed by someone other than me.
In the present: This is where I want to be. Nursing you, cuddling with you, sleeping next to you at night, waking up to you at one in the morning and loving it. Enjoying every moment with you without obsessing over the idea that this may be the last time I have all day to nurse you, or hold you, or be with you.
So there you have it. My goal. You and me. In the moment.
Love,
Mom
You are two months old today and my challenge these days with you is enjoying the moment, without dwelling on the past, or worrying about the future.
In the past: You have already changed so much from birth. You are bigger, more alert, stronger. You are an infant, no longer a newborn. You can hold your head up, smile and make eye contact. I mourn the loss of those newborn days, and in that loss, I cling to everything about you today and anticipate the loss of it all... of nursing you, of midnight feedings, of an hour or more of just sitting and holding you.
In the future: I'll be going back to work in exactly a month, on your three month birthday. Between now and then, you and I have to break our rhythm of nursing which we have both enjoyed so much and help you learn to take a bottle and be soothed by someone other than me.
In the present: This is where I want to be. Nursing you, cuddling with you, sleeping next to you at night, waking up to you at one in the morning and loving it. Enjoying every moment with you without obsessing over the idea that this may be the last time I have all day to nurse you, or hold you, or be with you.
So there you have it. My goal. You and me. In the moment.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, July 16, 2009
I am completely unable to title this post without making a pun about Jack wearing a certain type of fall/winter clothing. Maybe I'll try again later.
Dear Jack,
In anticipation of your two month birthday tomorrow, I just took your official two month picture. It is July and 105 degrees outside and I put you in a hooded jacket with a matching knitted hat.
I know that seems silly, but the thing is that I bought that jacket and hat when I was pregnant with your sister because I loved it and if she had been a boy, it would have been hers. Instead, my boy came two and half years later, and it's that half year that matters... your sister would have worn that jacket in January (and she did in fact wear the pink version that January that she was two months old).
This jacket is sized 3-6 months, so there is an off chance that you might be able to wear it this coming October. Maybe. But really, you probably wore it for the one and only time for this picture. And somehow, that's worth it to me. To see you and your sister, side by side, two months old and adorable with your matching jackets.
But from now on, if you look the slightest bit cold in the house, you know what I'm going to put on you.
Love,
Mom
In anticipation of your two month birthday tomorrow, I just took your official two month picture. It is July and 105 degrees outside and I put you in a hooded jacket with a matching knitted hat.
I know that seems silly, but the thing is that I bought that jacket and hat when I was pregnant with your sister because I loved it and if she had been a boy, it would have been hers. Instead, my boy came two and half years later, and it's that half year that matters... your sister would have worn that jacket in January (and she did in fact wear the pink version that January that she was two months old).
This jacket is sized 3-6 months, so there is an off chance that you might be able to wear it this coming October. Maybe. But really, you probably wore it for the one and only time for this picture. And somehow, that's worth it to me. To see you and your sister, side by side, two months old and adorable with your matching jackets.
But from now on, if you look the slightest bit cold in the house, you know what I'm going to put on you.
Love,
Mom
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Grateful to not be a cavewoman
Dear Jack,
Someday, when you read this, you will find this note to be very sweet and uplifting, or just plain morbid.
This will depend largely on which one of your parents you take after the most.
Earlier today, your father and I were talking about my impending return to work next month and I was expressing some sadness that I wouldn't be able to nurse you all day long as I had been. To which your father replied, "Because you aren't a cavewoman."
This is true, I think, because I am not a cavewoman and a cavewoman would nurse her offspring daily through to the age of two or so, I think, but wouldn't "stay at home mom" or "1950's housewife" fit better in the context?
No, because your father has farther to travel on this thought-train (and has apparently ridden it before), "And if you were a cavewoman, you would be dead..."
At first, I resent the implication that I would make a bad cavewoman. I mean, of course I would make a terrible cavewoman, but it's only because I was born in the 20th century and don't have the proper training. Surely if I had been born in cavewoman times, I would be fine.
Except that's not the point at all (continuing to the next trainstop), "...because Jack was breech and you would have died in childbirth."
This is where you will either feel a sense of sweet joy that your mother was not, in fact, a cavewoman, or a twisting of your gut that death came so very close (in a weird theoretical sort of way).
Your father, apparently, stops to think this several times a day, to savor the fact that he didn't lose either of us. (He even has, in his head, a timeline that details at which point in history both of us would have died in childbirth and at what point - say, 1900 - you could have survived being breech and I would have bled out on some turn of the century operating table, or from post-surgical infections.)
His point, of course, is that we should be eternally grateful for living in this modern age when you being breech turned out to be a minor inconvenience and not a death sentence.
He's right, of course. But I still think it's morbid.
So, here's to your mother, not being a cavewoman. And here's to your dad, who had the sense not to say any of this in the operating room when you were born, even though I'm certain he was thinking it at the time.
Love,
Mom
Someday, when you read this, you will find this note to be very sweet and uplifting, or just plain morbid.
This will depend largely on which one of your parents you take after the most.
Earlier today, your father and I were talking about my impending return to work next month and I was expressing some sadness that I wouldn't be able to nurse you all day long as I had been. To which your father replied, "Because you aren't a cavewoman."
This is true, I think, because I am not a cavewoman and a cavewoman would nurse her offspring daily through to the age of two or so, I think, but wouldn't "stay at home mom" or "1950's housewife" fit better in the context?
No, because your father has farther to travel on this thought-train (and has apparently ridden it before), "And if you were a cavewoman, you would be dead..."
At first, I resent the implication that I would make a bad cavewoman. I mean, of course I would make a terrible cavewoman, but it's only because I was born in the 20th century and don't have the proper training. Surely if I had been born in cavewoman times, I would be fine.
Except that's not the point at all (continuing to the next trainstop), "...because Jack was breech and you would have died in childbirth."
This is where you will either feel a sense of sweet joy that your mother was not, in fact, a cavewoman, or a twisting of your gut that death came so very close (in a weird theoretical sort of way).
Your father, apparently, stops to think this several times a day, to savor the fact that he didn't lose either of us. (He even has, in his head, a timeline that details at which point in history both of us would have died in childbirth and at what point - say, 1900 - you could have survived being breech and I would have bled out on some turn of the century operating table, or from post-surgical infections.)
His point, of course, is that we should be eternally grateful for living in this modern age when you being breech turned out to be a minor inconvenience and not a death sentence.
He's right, of course. But I still think it's morbid.
So, here's to your mother, not being a cavewoman. And here's to your dad, who had the sense not to say any of this in the operating room when you were born, even though I'm certain he was thinking it at the time.
Love,
Mom
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Bumbo
Dear Jack,
There is a lot of unnecessary baby gear in the world. A whole lot.
Some of it is just an evil plan to guilt new parents into spending obscene amounts of money. I'll put anything with the words "organic" that isn't actually food in this category. Organic t-shirts? Really? And your other 100% cotton t-shirts are made of what?
Some of it is unnecessary based solely on the parents' style. Since you sleep in the bed with me, I consider a bassinet to be utterly useless. Except to hold your dirty clothes. But if I wanted you to sleep on your own, I guess a bassinet would be a nice thing.
Some of it is unnecessary in the sense that it is new and millions upon millions of babies have made it through to adulthood without this thing, but it does a neat thing and we new mamas think it's all the rage and simply must have it.
Introducing the Bumbo chair.
They started making these in 2007, which means your sister is even too old to have had one. I can't decide if they are going to become the newest baby must have, or turn into a weird fad of the late aughts.
Maybe they'll still be making them when your generation is having kids, or maybe they'll be something that totally dates you... "look, you had a Bumbo chair, you must have been born around '08, right?"
Either way, I thought someday it would be fun to look back at this picture.
I probably wouldn't have sprung for a Bumbo chair for you... they sell for $40 and they are only really useful for a few months (like most baby things, I guess). Happily, Mrs. Hazen let us borrow hers until Baby Hazen arrives in about six months.
How do you feel about this Bumbo chair and my own personal debate over whether or not they are a useful piece of baby equipment? Well, we put you in it for the first time yesterday, you sunk down nicely, and then gave your dad and me your very first official social smile.
So, I guess you like it. And that's all I really care about anyway.
Love,
Mom
Disclaimer: You should never, ever leave a baby unattended on an elevated surface in a Bumbo chair. I have to mention that because Mrs. Hazen let me use hers and she really wanted me to know that was on the warning label. You were attended the whole time, I promise.
There is a lot of unnecessary baby gear in the world. A whole lot.
Some of it is just an evil plan to guilt new parents into spending obscene amounts of money. I'll put anything with the words "organic" that isn't actually food in this category. Organic t-shirts? Really? And your other 100% cotton t-shirts are made of what?
Some of it is unnecessary based solely on the parents' style. Since you sleep in the bed with me, I consider a bassinet to be utterly useless. Except to hold your dirty clothes. But if I wanted you to sleep on your own, I guess a bassinet would be a nice thing.
Some of it is unnecessary in the sense that it is new and millions upon millions of babies have made it through to adulthood without this thing, but it does a neat thing and we new mamas think it's all the rage and simply must have it.
Introducing the Bumbo chair.They started making these in 2007, which means your sister is even too old to have had one. I can't decide if they are going to become the newest baby must have, or turn into a weird fad of the late aughts.
Maybe they'll still be making them when your generation is having kids, or maybe they'll be something that totally dates you... "look, you had a Bumbo chair, you must have been born around '08, right?"
Either way, I thought someday it would be fun to look back at this picture.
I probably wouldn't have sprung for a Bumbo chair for you... they sell for $40 and they are only really useful for a few months (like most baby things, I guess). Happily, Mrs. Hazen let us borrow hers until Baby Hazen arrives in about six months.
How do you feel about this Bumbo chair and my own personal debate over whether or not they are a useful piece of baby equipment? Well, we put you in it for the first time yesterday, you sunk down nicely, and then gave your dad and me your very first official social smile.
So, I guess you like it. And that's all I really care about anyway.
Love,
Mom
Disclaimer: You should never, ever leave a baby unattended on an elevated surface in a Bumbo chair. I have to mention that because Mrs. Hazen let me use hers and she really wanted me to know that was on the warning label. You were attended the whole time, I promise.
Smiles
Dear Jack,
Yesterday was my birthday. I got a lot of neat presents and saw a lot of fun friends, but my very favorite birthday moment was the one in which you looked up at me and smiled.
Thanks for the birthday present!
Love,
Mom
Yesterday was my birthday. I got a lot of neat presents and saw a lot of fun friends, but my very favorite birthday moment was the one in which you looked up at me and smiled.
Thanks for the birthday present!
Love,
Mom
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Leveling Up
Dear Jack,
There is a genre of games called RPGs (Role Playing Games) which are characterized by having characters who "level up" over the course of the game, gaining new skills and abilities.
Babies, I think, level up. You go through these growth spurts and then you come out with new things you can do. Last growth spurt, you took "increased stomach size" which enabled you to go longer in between meals. A cool trick, I thought.
This time, you seemed to have taken "stay awake longer" which is also a useful skill. You first tried out your new ability yesterday, from about 3PM to 6PM. I knew something was up because you have never, ever stayed awake for three hours straight before. Aside from times when you were actually eating, you tended to only be awake for thirty minutes or so, and often you would wake up only long enough to eat and then you would be right back asleep. So, for you, at least, this being awake for three hours at a time is a whole new world.
Unfortunately for both of us, until you level up a few more times and take "increased gross motor skill" and "basic hand eye co-ordination" as new feats, this whole new world of wakefulness you have discovered is peppered with a great deal of boredom.
It wasn't really a problem at 3PM yesterday. You had your bright and shiny new IKEA toy to look at, and your sister was around and she's always a load of laughs, and you did nurse twice in those three hours, so that killed some time.
No, the problems started at midnight last night (this morning) when you decided to use your new skill in the middle of the night when your sister (and the IKEA toy) are fast asleep and your mom would like to be as well. I try to be an entertaining kind of mom. I do fun things, I play, I come up with activities. But I do all of these things during the day. In the middle of the night, I mostly lie in bed.
I mean, I did talk to you and nurse you several times, and I tried to sound a lot less grumpy than I felt... you are still super cute, even at one in the morning, but by 3AM, when you did finally go to sleep, I was thinking back fondly on the many, many nights we have shared together in which, aside from the couple of nursing sessions, we both slept most of the night away.
Over the next few months, I am sure that you will acquire all sorts of new abilities, and some of those abilities (like "stay awake longer") will infringe on my sleep. So, while I might look forward to the time when you take "sleep through the night" or even just "distinguishing between days and nights" as new skills, I am endeavoring to enjoy our time together no matter what.
Because, of course, the final goal of all of this leveling up you have already started on is becoming a grown-up yourself, and when that happens, I will look back and miss the time when you were a brand new baby who had just learned how to stay awake, even in the middle of the night.
Love,
Mom
There is a genre of games called RPGs (Role Playing Games) which are characterized by having characters who "level up" over the course of the game, gaining new skills and abilities.
Babies, I think, level up. You go through these growth spurts and then you come out with new things you can do. Last growth spurt, you took "increased stomach size" which enabled you to go longer in between meals. A cool trick, I thought.
This time, you seemed to have taken "stay awake longer" which is also a useful skill. You first tried out your new ability yesterday, from about 3PM to 6PM. I knew something was up because you have never, ever stayed awake for three hours straight before. Aside from times when you were actually eating, you tended to only be awake for thirty minutes or so, and often you would wake up only long enough to eat and then you would be right back asleep. So, for you, at least, this being awake for three hours at a time is a whole new world.
Unfortunately for both of us, until you level up a few more times and take "increased gross motor skill" and "basic hand eye co-ordination" as new feats, this whole new world of wakefulness you have discovered is peppered with a great deal of boredom.
It wasn't really a problem at 3PM yesterday. You had your bright and shiny new IKEA toy to look at, and your sister was around and she's always a load of laughs, and you did nurse twice in those three hours, so that killed some time.
No, the problems started at midnight last night (this morning) when you decided to use your new skill in the middle of the night when your sister (and the IKEA toy) are fast asleep and your mom would like to be as well. I try to be an entertaining kind of mom. I do fun things, I play, I come up with activities. But I do all of these things during the day. In the middle of the night, I mostly lie in bed.
I mean, I did talk to you and nurse you several times, and I tried to sound a lot less grumpy than I felt... you are still super cute, even at one in the morning, but by 3AM, when you did finally go to sleep, I was thinking back fondly on the many, many nights we have shared together in which, aside from the couple of nursing sessions, we both slept most of the night away.
Over the next few months, I am sure that you will acquire all sorts of new abilities, and some of those abilities (like "stay awake longer") will infringe on my sleep. So, while I might look forward to the time when you take "sleep through the night" or even just "distinguishing between days and nights" as new skills, I am endeavoring to enjoy our time together no matter what.
Because, of course, the final goal of all of this leveling up you have already started on is becoming a grown-up yourself, and when that happens, I will look back and miss the time when you were a brand new baby who had just learned how to stay awake, even in the middle of the night.
Love,
Mom
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Window Box
Dear Jack,
About a year ago I planted a pinwheel garden with your sister. She and I enjoy it every time we go outside. You, on the other hand, don't really notice it at all.
Probably because you don't really go in the backyard, and even when you do, you stay on the deck and honestly, I'm not sure how great your eyesight is these days anyway.
So, for you, I planted a pinwheel window box by your changing table.
I hope you like it.
Love,
Mom
About a year ago I planted a pinwheel garden with your sister. She and I enjoy it every time we go outside. You, on the other hand, don't really notice it at all.
Probably because you don't really go in the backyard, and even when you do, you stay on the deck and honestly, I'm not sure how great your eyesight is these days anyway.
So, for you, I planted a pinwheel window box by your changing table.
I hope you like it.
Love,
Mom
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
100 Degrees
Dear Jack,
It was 100 degrees today. It has been 100 degrees or so for the last week or two. It will probably be 100 degrees a lot this summer. After all, we live in Texas.
I normally don't like the heat all that much, but like any born and bread Texan can stand it long enough to do the things I want to be doing. Your sister and dad are pretty much the same way.
You are the weak link in our family these days. Being only six weeks old, you aren't too good at regulating your body temperature, you don't have an easy way of saying, "hey, I'm hot," and you tend to need to be held, which makes a body even hotter.
So how in the world do we get to enjoy our backyard this summer?
A mister, an umbrella, an old kiddie pool, and a blanket your Nana made (with a towel underneath it for added cushioning) seemed to do the trick... for about twenty minutes or so anyway.
Hope you enjoyed your time outside.
In between feedings, of course.
Love,
Mom
It was 100 degrees today. It has been 100 degrees or so for the last week or two. It will probably be 100 degrees a lot this summer. After all, we live in Texas.
I normally don't like the heat all that much, but like any born and bread Texan can stand it long enough to do the things I want to be doing. Your sister and dad are pretty much the same way.
You are the weak link in our family these days. Being only six weeks old, you aren't too good at regulating your body temperature, you don't have an easy way of saying, "hey, I'm hot," and you tend to need to be held, which makes a body even hotter.
So how in the world do we get to enjoy our backyard this summer?
A mister, an umbrella, an old kiddie pool, and a blanket your Nana made (with a towel underneath it for added cushioning) seemed to do the trick... for about twenty minutes or so anyway.Hope you enjoyed your time outside.
In between feedings, of course.
Love,
Mom
Growth Spurt
Dear Jack,
You nursed yesterday at 3:30, 4:30, 6:30, 7:30, 8:30, and 10:00 before going to bed for the night. You woke at your typical one, four, and seven, and then ate again at 9:30, 10:30, 11:30, and 12:30.
I think you may be going through a growth spurt.
Somehow I feel better about this whole process having come to that conclusion.
Happy growing!
Love,
Mom
You nursed yesterday at 3:30, 4:30, 6:30, 7:30, 8:30, and 10:00 before going to bed for the night. You woke at your typical one, four, and seven, and then ate again at 9:30, 10:30, 11:30, and 12:30.
I think you may be going through a growth spurt.
Somehow I feel better about this whole process having come to that conclusion.
Happy growing!
Love,
Mom
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