A Painted House

Dear Edison: Month Two

Posted on: February 2, 2011

Dear Edison.

Last week you turned 2 months old.  There is something so magical about the two-month mark in a baby’s life.  You suddenly transition from a little lump of baby into a smiling, giggling, cooing, charm machine wearing a dinosaur sleeper.   Your little personality is coming out in spades and let me tell you son, in this house full of big personalities you hold your own.  You’ve found your star quality and you’re working it for all it’s worth. Edison, you are one of the smiliest babies I’ve ever seen.  You cracked your first little smirk at three weeks old and it didn’t take more than a day or two before you realized that a big grin is your highest form of currency.  You seem to already understand that if you put on a big googly smile and coo a few syllables you’ll get and keep the rapt attention of every adult in the room.  As  a second child this is a particularly ingenious  move because you looooove personal attention and the big kid is capable of stealing it all away with one well-timed jump off of something high.  Nothing makes you happier than when your Dad and I lean over you and encourage you to interact with us by turning into a pair of chipmunks, squeaking and chattering because it makes you smile.  And then you glance over at your brother with those luminous, shining eyes and gummy grin and one can almost hear the challenge being extended, “Compete with that, Big Brother.  Bring it.”

Thankfully, your brother really does seem to like you.  My Mommy heart puddles each time he prays before our dinner and thanks God for his baby brother.  When you fuss he comes over, leans in close to your face, and asks you, “Why are you so sad, baby brother?  It’s ok, it’s ok.”  He wants to check on you while you sleep (often signaling the end of your sleep – sorry about that), asks you to play cars in the play room, and in general invades your space on a daily basis to the point that it endangers your personal safety.   And it’s all out of love, at least for now.  We’re just watching and waiting, ever ready for the day he tries to shove cheese up your nose.  Should he prove stealthier than I anticipate, I promise to get it all out so you don’t go through life thinking the world smells of cheddar.  Though I can think of worse things.

Edison, I believe you are what’s referred to as an Easy Baby.  God bless you, child.  It seems, looking back with a new level of experience, that your brother was NOT an easy baby.  Adorable, joyful, darling? Yes. But easy?  No.  So to have a child who eats willingly and eagerly, sleeps well and without a fight, and spends much of his awake time happily observing the world around him….well, it’s less a pleasant surprise and more a total shock to the system.  For months leading up to your arrival I was mentally preparing for the onslaught of the sleepless nights, questionable napping, and pokey eating I associated with newborns, only to receive, well, you.  What a blessing you are, sweet pea.

Also worth mentioning, somewhere near the eight week mark we finally, finally, finally reached the glorious state where the process of you eating lunch doesn’t leave me curling my toes, eyes raised to heaven, crying on the couch, whispering “Jesus, help me.”  You have no idea the dedication, determination, and questionable mental state it takes to shove a hungry baby toward a broken and bleeding part of one’s anatomy ten times per day, Edison.  Should you ever seek proof that your mother might be just a little bit Type A, a little “I started it so I’m going to finish it IF IT KILLS ME,”  don’t start with my college GPA or the four years I spent behind a desk putting your Dad through medical school.  Look to the first few weeks of your life, my determination to outlast the pain if it meant a year or more of free food and protection for your immune system, and the sheer stubborness displayed therein.  Just keep all that in mind when that same personality trait that netted you the best nutrition as an infant also makes you organize your underpants by color.

All that to say, Huzzah! for two months.

Love, Mama


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