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14 Weeks

Dear MrMan,

I started this letter to you yesterday morning, on the day you actually turned 14 weeks old. And I actually intended to write to you last weekend on your three month birthday. But things got a little busy, both times. You've probably noticed lots of busy-ness lately, since you and I are moving to the mainland tomorrow. Your first womb-less flight.

We celebrated your three month birthday by going to the pottery shop and stamping your foot on a tile, to memorialize its largeness (and smallness). We also took pictures of a school bearing your name - you slept through that part of the celebrating. And we took you to the beach, despite the overcast and windy weather. You are a true Hawaii boy - you felt sand before you felt grass. I know what you're thinking, "Three months old and never felt grass?" You'll have to remember that we live in an apartment building in a very densely populated area. (I call you my urban baby - sleeping through sirens, construction down the street, helicopters flying to the nearby hospital....) While it wasn't intentional to keep you off the grass, now that I've realized it, I think it's just as well, as most of the good grass here is likely treated with chemicals. People, maybe including you, will think it contradictory of me to now take you to a city described as being covered in a toxic sludge less than six months ago. I'm okay with that. Don't worry - you'll feel grass soon. Probably in a few days, in Maman Jan and Papa Joon's yard.

These days, you continue to love the thin cloth diapers. So much so, that we just refer to them as "beloveds." We don't leave home without one - all is well in your world as long as you're clutching a beloved. You've added to your favorite toys a musical caterpillar: you're seem quite enchanted by it, and are not happy when we end a musical caterpillar session. You still like "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes," but it doesn't bring the smiles quite like it used to. The big smiles are now reserved for "I Think You're Wonderful," which I can understand, because who doesn't like to be told they're wonderful. However, you do think it's funny when I sing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" really fast - it makes you laugh.

Laughing is one of your new skills. We love it! Things you laugh about: the three of us dancing together, my pretending to eat you and Daddy while Daddy pretends to be scared, and, once, you and I had a session of laughing at each other's laughs. Your laughter makes joy bubble in my heart.

So does watching you with Daddy. I'm glad that I decided to go back to work these past couple of weeks and that Daddy could (and wanted to) stay home with you. He's so good at making up songs to calm and amuse you. He's patient with your tears and frustrations. And when people see you out with Daddy, they're even more impressed by you and your enchanting eyes, as it's not every day you see a man out with an infant. Most importantly, the two of you are getting in lots of MrMan and Daddy time before you have to be apart for a while. Thinking about the apartness makes me cry, especially since I'm not big enough for you to sleep on in your little monkey style.

You seem to recognize us, and even prefer us over other people. You're not in a "Stranger Danger" mode, but you do seem to find more comfort in our arms. You can now pick up your head and look around, while on your belly. You brace your arm against us, holding yourself upright, when we carry you. You're still not so in control of your limbs, but you're getting there. You now intentionally grip things in your hands. With your fingers, you try to pick up lettering on our shirts. Letters fascinate you, whether on our shirts, on magnets, or in books: you stare at the words as if willing them to reveal their secrets. Cause and effect is still a mystery to you, of course, but we sometimes forget and think that you're pushing milk away when, really, you're just pushing against us. You now like to be held up in the air; it used to scare you.

You like kisses and to have your face touched and stroked. We know this won't always be the case, so we get in as many kisses to you as we can. Seeing you smile in response was one of the many reasons I decided not to work for a while: it made me realize that a daycare provider wasn't going to give you kisses like I do. And not only do the kisses seem to make you happy, them make me happy. I love you, MrMan.

Love,
Mommy

Posted by Shokufeh at February 25, 2006 11:38 AM