A Painted House

Archive for July 2013

Dear Ivy,

You’re two months old, Praise God, thank you Jesus, and let the peasants rejoice.  I love two months.  Two months and I are besties.  I swear I could hear butterflies singing the day you rounded that corner, baby girl.   Because at two months we’ve made it past your first few weeks of sleepless nights and fussy unpredictability and have entered Baby Nirvana.  Two months is a glorious, magical place to be in babyhood because you start sleeping a little more at night, interacting during the day, and most importantly, smiling.  Is there anything in God’s created universe cuter than a tiny baby sporting a wide, toothless grin?  I submit that no, there is not.  Not even puppies hugging kittens.

Ivy, your smile is magical.  It lights up entire rooms, charms strangers, and turns your Daddy into a mushy pile  of goo.   Ivy, you smile with your whole body.  Like a puppy whose tail is wagging him more than the other way around, when someone turns their full attention on you, your entire little self responds back with joy.  You grin so big that your face scrunches, your legs curl up, your arms flail, and you turn into a barely contained sack of happy.  And you’re generous with it, displaying your squinty-eyed, apple-cheeked, delighted face to anyone who takes the time to meet your big blue eyes.  You are the smiliest baby thus far in this family and I think it’s because you know you have a secret weapon.  It doesn’t matter how demanding your brothers are being, how loudly they’re asking for chocolate milk or fruit snacks, when you turn your smile in my direction, you know that I’m all yours.  

You know what doesn’t make you smile, Ivy?  Shots.  Shots do not make you smile.  You had your two month well child appointment and sailed right through your milestones, height and weight checks, and exam.  So it’s logical that when you were rewarded for such a stellar checkup by being poked in each leg, that you weren’t pleased.  And you weren’t sad and in need of Mama’s comforting, Ivy you were MAD.  You weren’t just screaming, you were screaming AT ME.  Eyes wide open, angry face, HOW DARE YOU mad.  And no matter how much I expounded on the health benefits and reasons why we choose to vaccinate you at a young age, you were having none of it.  A good ten minutes later you finally took a breath, just as I was wrapping up my Power Point presentation.  Thankfully it seems you only hold a grudge until it’s time for your next meal, but I’ll still be awfully wary at that first round of shots after your teeth come in…..just in case you decide that next meal is the perfect time to exact revenge with the sharpest tools at your disposal.

You know, Ivy, I wasn’t really sure what to expect at the idea of having a baby daughter. And I’ll tell you a secret because I know you won’t tell anyone – despite a strong desire for a daughter, I was actually pretty nervous when the ultrasound tech assured me (twice) that you were on the way. I know that babies are babies taking care of them uses a pretty universal standard regardless of gender, but I wondered about my ability to raise a little girl into a woman, to shape the character of a daughter, to relate to you.  Almost all of those questions remain to be answered, but I can assure you that our first two months have whisked away all those initial nerves.  There is something truly special about snuggling a baby girl, something even softer than you can imagine that comes with those pink sleepers.  I can’t explain HOW it’s different, but it is.  The air around you is every bit as precious as it was around your newborn brothers, just a teensy bit sweeter. You and me, Ivy, we’ve got a thing going on.

Love, Mama


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