My dearest Abigail,
You turned one month old yesterday. I apologize that the day passed with little fanfare, but we had lots of stuff going on. You were lucky enough to celebrate with your grandparents and great auntie Mitzi, so that may have been gift enough. You’ve changed so much already in the past month that I’m already starting to worry about how much you’ll change before your two month mark! You’re barely fitting in your newborn onesies anymore (those long skinny legs!) and are getting stronger by the day. Daddy’s attempting to show you how to hold your pacifier in your mouth with your buddy (aka your right hand) and sometimes you get it, but most of the time you’re spitting it out of your mouth at warp speed. You haven’t slept through the night yet, but I’ll take it since you really only ever cry when you need something, and once that’s taken care of, you’re back to happy mellow baby.
I’m getting really excited for your first Christmas. I already bought you a stocking and am busy compiling the list of things you’ll be getting. I’m more concerned about gifts for you than making a list for myself (which I’ve usually completed by now). I guess when the mental short list for myself includes a new MacBook and a dishwasher I quickly am jolted back to reality and focus on the $14 Soothe & Glow Seahorse that’s on your list. (Trust me, you want one.)
Anyway, I must go. John Mayer tickets go on sale in 2 minutes and Mommy needs to get front row so I can wear his sweat for a couple hours. I’ll explain that when you’re older.
Love you much,
We made the five hour drive with little to no drama (stupid travel warmer is a piece of crap), and Abby rewarded us with three, count ’em…THREE poops in 12 hours. (I KNOW, right?!) The pack-n-play was set up with ease and it’s the greatest invention of all time. Ours has a changing table and bassinet attachment.
Yesterday morning started out with friends of my parents stopping by with gifts. Eventually Abby was turned into one.
My mom, auntie and I made Thanksgiving dinner and everything turned out spectacular! I made my grandma’s infamous frozen fruit salad. It was delish and a big hit as usual. I’ve decided it’s now my job to make that for every holiday in her honor. Abby will eventually have to learn how to make it, since it’s her middle namesake’s recipe.
After dinner, we all sat in a chair, and the tryptophan kicked in. (Well, for Abby I’m sure it was just a pleasant milk drunk.)
So so very much to be thankful for.
**A big thank you to Mitzi for being my personal photographer while she’s here. LOVE that iPhone.
You know when you’re eating something and food drops off your fork or something, and you KNOW it happened, but you can’t find it?
Well I finally found it. Roasted garlic hummus in the folds of my daughter’s neck last night. And even after I thought I got it all, I’m still finding (and smelling) it.
I think I just gave up my place in the running for mommy of the year.
Thanks to the hubs being on all night baby duty (in the living room), I got to sleep through the night. TEN WHOLE HOURS. I haven’t slept more than three hours consecutively in weeks. Ten hours…that’s like 3.5 nights worth of interrupted sleep combined.
I felt drugged when I woke up…similar to how I felt on the magnesium after Abby was born. It quickly faded into feeling totally refreshed and like a new mommy.
Now it’s just about 1pm, the hubs is about to be woken up…and Abby is fast asleep. We’re going to attempt an afternoon out today. Pray for us.
I attempted the Moby a little over a week ago and it was a huge FAIL. Like, huge. I had Abby in the cradle hold, and attempted to do the dishes. She ended up in my armpit and under my arm, curled into a weird position, whimpering the whole time. I realized I probably didn’t have it tied tight enough and didn’t want to attempt it again lest I traumatize her more and make her hate it.
So, today, I tried again, this time with the newborn hug hold and tied as tight as I could. Here’s the result. She slept for about 30 minutes, cried for a diaper change, went back in and has been sleeping since.
Dearest Moby makers, I love you.