Dearest Little Joseph,
I will do a much better job of documenting your babyhood once you do a much better job of letting me sleep at night. Deal?
You are 9 months old, and I love you. I am skipping a thunderstorm morning nap (while you nap and the other boys are gone) in order to write about you. See? I must love you, because I am very, very tired and a nap sounds like heaven.
You are crawling, getting into things you ought not to, beginning to oh-so-slightly irritate your doting and patient brother, and working hard on standing up. You are what some people would call “strong-willed”; I just call you Daddy’s boy.
You are beginning to take an interest in solid food, but you have definite dislikes and don’t mind saying so. (Your brother would eat any and everything we placed in front of him, and now he is the world’s most picky eater, so there is hope you will get this out of your system sooner rather than later.) However, you do feast on the leaves outside and any lint inside (as well as dust bunnies and the bottoms of shoes) that you happen to come across in your travels. Why, Joseph, why? I would just like to know why. You nurse… but not well. You make me worry, and you drive me crazy. For 5 months now you will only nurse lying down on my bed, as long as it is dark and quiet. And of course you nurse best in the middle of the night (aargh). You refuse a bottle or a sippy cup, which I must say makes you a completely unreasonable little person. It also makes going anywhere a challenge, and has become somewhat of an obsession of mine. We are planning a trip to Missouri, we have a wedding in June that will involve a night in a hotel, and we’d like to go to our camper this summer. Will you starve?! Surely not, but you are bound to make both you and me miserable. Ah, so much to look forward to!
You are super cute (it is a real shame you don’t like to snuggle much; please rethink that), which goes a long way toward making your oddities bearable.
You love your Daddy, you LOVE your brother, you need your Mama. You say “Mmmmm ma…ma…ma” when you are hungry. You say “Mum mum mum” when you want Cheerios. You say “Bubba” for brother (which your daddy dislikes, because it sounds like some backwoods’ nickname, hee hee). You yell “AH AH AH” for most everything else. You like to sing and dance and clap your hands. You can do Patty Cake on your own and it is precious to see those chubby little hands “rolling” up the dough. Sometimes you do “so big”, and we totally get excited (which may be why you don’t do it much). You love for Daddy to hold you while you bounce and yell in his arms – this may be your favorite thing to do! You are such a baby. I love your babiness so much. It is fun to have a baby in the house.
Quite possibly it is more fun when one is not the mama, but still it is fun to be the mama too (I sure hope you can take a joke, Joseph).
You are still bald and you still love the hair on other people’s heads. You do have some, almost invisible, fuzzy curls starting on the back of your head and I adore them.
You are a terror to change and dress. You are fearless, and occasionally make my heart stop.
You have finally gone from 4 or 5 short naps down to just 3 a day, sometimes you take just 2! So we are making progress! This excites me to no end, which I’m sure is a sad commentary on my life. Your morning nap is normally at least an hour long. You are still the 30 minute man for your other two naps though. Have I mentioned that I am very, very tired?
Goodness, I just re-read what I’ve written so far and it’s not exactly all bright and sunshiny, is it? I guess I am just keeping it real. Here we go for something a bit more mushy and motherly-lovey…
I love your thick little feet,
Your chubby little thighs.
You’re really neat,
You make sweet little sighs.
Your tummy is edible,
Your cheeks are soft,
your eyes are incredible,
You think it’s funny to cough.
You’re Daddy’s bouncy boy,
You’re Mama’s little joy,
You’re Brother’s favorite toy.
You like to fuss and whine,
But Mama loves you all the time.
I love you, sweet, sweet boy. With all my heart.