Happy 4 months, Butterball!
Technically, it was last Sunday (Feb 7) but better late than never right? Your nanny, your sister, and I were so damn happy and proud like you found the cure for common cold. We gathered around you and cooed our greetings. . I’m sure it looked like a vagina convention to you what with 2 and half women crowding the bed and you staring up at us with one eyebrow raised. We were just celebrating your milestone, sweetheart.
And with that here are things you’d like to know on your 4 months:
· You tipped the scales at 20 lbs. I stopped marking the charts on our second well-baby check when I noticed you are way above the red line on weight, length, and head circumference. The doctors would take one look at you and then at me, we’d both laugh and she’d throw away the pen. What can I say, you are a big baby.
· You love to grab ANYTHING! It is kinda strange when you we’d just dressed you up, I’d reach for your favorite toy and I’d come back with you holding your shirt up and your tummy exposed for everyone to see. Look, mommy I can take my shirt almost off now! But you really love practicing your iron grip hold on anybody’s hair unfortunate enough to be within your grasp. You seem to think you’d hit bonus points when we yelp in pain so we’d just giggle with you through tears of pain. You still think this is hilarious.
· You bite, kick, and hit. Well instinctively at least otherwise we have ourselves a big problem. The first time you hit me with your arm; my glasses came off and clattered to the floor. I was reeling like drunk! My LITTLE baby hit me?!!! What The Flower was that all about? The first time you kicked me was when I was too slow and asleep to pop out a breast for you. The next thing I know BAM! I was doubled over on the bed, jolted awake, groaning. You smiled because you still think its 50 points if mommy grunts or cries in pain. What The Fish was that?! Yes you also bit me, hon. you balled your fist and pushed my hand to your mouth. I thought you need some comfort sucking so I gave you my pinkie. You started to strain your little body with all the strength you could muster and bit into it. I thought it was hilarious and your gums could really do no damage until you started clamping on my nipple. What The Faction?!!! Mother Fornicator!!!
· Phlegmy kept giving me mocha chiffon cake to eat. When I was choking down on the 4th slice she keeps shoving down my throat, I asked why we’re doing this when I KNOW I am not on an emotional eating marathon. “It’s not for you, ma” she said with her eyes glued to the netbook and her hand armed with another cake chunk “It’s for the little guy on his fourth month” Oh I see. He can have his cake and drink it too and mommy can keep the calories.
· We (actually nanny and your dad) got worried when you didn’t poop for 3 straight days and when you did it was minimal. The parenting book I read said this was normal but the majority (who didn’t read the book) wanted to go to the professionals. Naturally, we obliged. The doc recommended a drink of water to help get things moving along and if THAT still won’t work, its prune juice for you little man. I found out what an obliging little creature you are as well because the moment we got home you gave us not one, not two but four reeking diapers. When nanny started complaining about how you shit so much now, we just rolled our eyes and secretly high fived. You really can’t please everybody. It’s shitty if you don’t, shitty if you do.
· Your sister, Phlegmy had finally stopped asking what-if-he-grows-up-gay questions. Finally. We’ve pretty much covered that NO, having a boyfriend in the future will not influence you to also get a boyfriend. And NO, she doesn’t have to get a girlfriend just to influence you to stay and bat for the same team. And YES, if you grow up gay you might use the name Lucy. And YES, even if you grow up gay we’d still love you the same. I’m still looking through a microscope hoping to find your sister’s paranoid DNA and fry those little suckers.
· You’ll shriek in delight at very strange situations and can reduce intelligent adults into baby-talking blabbering idiots. I’ve tried tickling you until I’m blue in the face and you’d just raise an eyebrow plainly questioning my sanity but when the doc was explaining some steps in her normal speaking voice, you giggled! Of course, she would turn to you because you are cuteness. So there I was taking notes and trying to keep up. My notes read: First you have to offer water..goo goo gaa gaa…and THEEEE-EN if that still won’t work..right baby? You offer ano-ther…awooo… Wa! Wa! Wa! And I lost the rest as she planted a raspberry on your tummy. You giggled again. At a stranger! I love my little traitor.
· And on your fourth month I feel nothing but gratitude that we have you here, little guy. As young as you are I think you know that you have all of us wrapped around your finger. It will always be that way.
I love you, Butterball.
