Mamaletter: Miles 6 Months

Dear Miles,

I've been saving up a story I think describes you and these past six months far better than anything I could come up with on my own.

But first, sweet toes.

You were born in the dead of Maine winter, which was rather brave of you (not that you had much choice). Several awful and magical months followed, making us all the more relieved once the first days of spring brought warmer weather and the opportunity to get the hell out of the house. We bundled up, packed some snacks, piled in the car with Jackson in the back, and headed to Mackworth Island. It was a lovely morning, a bit chilly perhaps, but a wonderful time.

And then we headed back home.

Jackson was in the back next to the jogger which, apparently, I neglected to secure properly. As we turned off 295 onto Baxter Blvd, the jogger heaved to the left trapping Jackson against the window.  Needless to say, it was an epic freak out with all kinds of yelping and crying and jerking and flying head long over the back seat.  But instead of jumping into the middle between the two car seats like any normal beast, Jackson lurched forward, front paws followed by back paws, right onto your big round belly.

What happened next sums up each of us and how we coexist. 

I immediately pulled over and slammed on the breaks. Eva started howling in terror, ripping at her seat belt straps trying to get to you. Once she realized she was stuck, she started crying buckets of tears while intermittently yelling incoherent mumbles about how Jackson was killing you and how it was my job, as your mother, to remedy the situation. I jumped out of the car and into the back hatch hoping to pull Jackson back over the seat...MY BIG POSTPARTUM ASS HANGING OUT OF THE CAR, SKIRT FLYING UP WITH ONCOMING TRAFFIC PASSING BY.

With Jackson facing forward ALL 50 POUNDS OF PANIC squarely on your belly, I grabbed for his collar. Just as I got hold, he started to turn around.  HE DID A LITTLE TURN AROUND DANCE, 37 tiny doggie steps on top of you until he was facing me in the back hatch. Then, the unthinkable happened. As I pulled on his collar, he leaned back against my weight as if to inform me there was no possible way on God's green Earth he was going anywhere.  And then he sat on your face.

I'll pause to let one sink in.

As if in slow motion, you looked up just long enough to see a big, hairy, Jackson butt hole land right on your forehead. I'm not even kidding.

Eventually, Eva's valium kicked in, Jackson moved over to the middle seat, and everything seemed to regulate itself, but one thing remained the same.  Homey, you didn't even flinch. No crying, no fussing, not even a twinge of dismay as a hairy beast danced on your belly and then butt hole-stamped your face.  You sat there and giggled through it all. 

You giggled.

The End

Love,

Mama

Mamaletter, Spring 2010

Dear Eva and Miles,

A few items of business before we get into the good stuff. Miles, you are hungry...always with the wanting to eat.  You eat around the clock, at all hours, always with the eating and eating and then more eating. It's a good thing your mother could feed a village with these jugs because a village worth of milk is what you eat every single day...and night. You are 15 1/2 lbs (50%) and 27 inches (90%) which is very similar to your sister at that age.  Apparently, I make tall babies.

I have to apologize in advance because everything you do I compare to your sister.  You're going to spend the rest of your life hearing sentences start with, "When Eva was your age." I cringe every time I say it, but I'm hopeless against it. Eva was all about her hands.  She picked stuff up and fiddled with things. You are all about your body. You are super strong, flipping and rolling and standing and (almost) crawling. Very quickly, you became bored on your back and have become the only baby I've ever met who prefers to be arched and flexed during hours of tummy time.

And you, Miss Eva, are a kick in the pants. Something happened after Miles was born and you decided it was cool to be a 'big girl'. You have opinions, have expanded your imagination, you ask questions, and explore. When I ask you to guess how much I love you, you reply, "Too much, Mama." And you never stop moving. Ever.

We've settled into a pretty sweet motion, all of us together. It's taken a few months, but I'm finally starting to see how we fit together and why each of you came into our family.  Eva, you came here to wake us up. You have strong feelings, you're challenging, and you have a fire that makes everything brighter.  You were the first, the one who made us a family.  You blazed the trail that turned me into a mama and your dad into a daddy, which is no easy task and not for the faint of heart. 

Yesterday after an exhausting weekend trip, after the luggage was towed back into the house, after the dog was cuddled, after the plants were watered, after the children were fed, and on and on and on, something became very clear to me.  The tone in our house has shifted since you came to us, Miles.  You brought happiness with you.  You brought a mellow kind of love, something within which to wrap us up. All of us should have been frazzled and moody, but instead we were ok.  More than ok, we were all happy to be home. A sweet, unfettered kind of happiness like a wave swept in and covered us with an ounce or two of calm. Fifteen pounds and a few ounces of calm, to be exact.

I know there will be difficult times.  I know you both will show us a million different colors and aspects of yourselves.  I never want to limit you or make you feel that you need to serve a specific purpose in our family.  That said, it's very important for you to know that I see who you are, and I feel what you've brought with you.  You're more than babies and diapers and potty training and tantrums and sleepless nights.  You are both very special people who have each brought something extraordinary to my life...to our life.

And I love you.

Mama

Mamaletter: Winter 2010

Dear Eva and Miles,

My loves, my babies. You could have pushed me over with a feather when they put you in my arms, sweet Miles. Yes, I was mondo beyondo exhausted, but I was also blown away by the fact that you were a boy. Your daddy and I were totally and completely convinced you were a girl. When you arrived, your daddy announced breathlessly, "It's a boy!" and could barely get the words across his lips before he lost himself in emotion. I can count the number of times I've seen your daddy cry on three fingers, the day you were born being foremost among them. We wanted you, oh, how we wanted you, my sweet baby boy.

And here you are, come to join our crazy racket. Several hours passed before your big sister came to meet you. Your daddy was holding you next to the bed where I sat. I looked up and called to Eva who came running across the room into my lap. A few minutes later, your daddy put you into Eva's arms where you snoozed peacefully as she cuddled and cooed and pawed at you. She calls you 'My Baby', and anytime the two of you are apart for more than 20 minutes, she'll come bursting into the room demanding, "Where's My Baby?" You are good-natured, content, peaceful, and at ease. You are a delight.

And you, Miss Eva, have been a study in the extremes of toddlerhood. The past few months have been spent in one of two gears. You are either the brightest, most colorful, and charming creature or you're the queen of discontent. There was a moment, a few weeks after Miles was born, when the two of us looked at each other knowing our relationship was never going to be the same. We needed to grieve over that loss in order to make room for something new, and it was brutal. Seriously, girlfriend, you and I had to endure some difficult moments that challenged us both, but we made it through. We always do.

I'd like to credit my fabulous parenting skills for our peaceful transition, but, frankly, I need to give credit to The Reflux. Most of our issues came while navigating the rocky terrain of sibling rivalry and jealousy. Naturally, it seemed impossible to figure out how to deal with your Mama spending all her time (time that was usually given to you) taking care of your brother. Each time I nursed or cuddled him, you would want to be right there with us. And by 'right there with us', I mean that you wanted to be in my lap along with Miles or, better yet, nursing and cuddling Miles yourself. All this pushing and pulling and needing and nagging made for some interesting hours on the couch until Miles resolved the issue for us. One massive puke all over your precious, pink Dora sneakers was all it took. It seems that no amount of heartbreak was worth risking another puke shower. Now, when I ask if you'd like to hold Miles after we've nursed, you flash me a look as if to say, "No thanks, Ma. I'm cool."

We're spending more time together at home, the three of us. I'm learning the art of putting my laundry away while Miles snoozes and you play dress up. You run into my closet, close the door behind you, and try on anything that will stay on your slight frame. Then you knock on the door.

Me: Who is it?
You: It's Eva!
Me: What do you need?
You: Open the door!
Me: What's the magic word?
You: Abracadabra

I couldn't have said it any better, my love. Our new life together is like Abracadabra. Magic.

Love,
Mama

Mamaletter: 30 months

Dear Eva,

I need to start by informing you that you're currently in one of the best stages of your life. I would also like to mention that a few months ago, you were in the absolute worst stage of your life. Over the 2 1/2 years we've been hanging out, you've taught us one very significant truth. You feel things very deeply, and you experience things to their absolute fullest. When you feel good and happy, life couldn't be any better. When you feel bad and frustrated, life could not be any worse. Aaaaaaannnnnnd, you let us know about it...one way or the other. You don't want to take your PJs off? A simple 'no thank you' would suffice, but, instead, you often choose to flail your body on the ground, kicking and screaming as if your daddy or I had just informed you that Dora and Elmo are dead. In other words, you would rather impale your eyes with a used Q-tip than take off your PJs. We get it.

Sometimes I think the rough spots happen right before you're about to go through a major developmental break through. It's an unraveling of sorts...a regression that gives way to something bigger and better. No doubt, you experience frustration because you WANT to do something your brain or your body can't quite accomplish. But when things happen, you turn into the most delightfully happy child the world has ever known. Your language, for example has exploded. Nanny came to visit last week, and when she rested next to you the night before she left she said, "Eva, I'm going to miss you. I have to go to Idaho in the morning." To which you replied, "That's ok. Eva go with you. Go in a boat. Mama and Dadda and Jackson go with you to Idaho in a boat." Yes, my love, we'll all need a boat to get us around with the amount of tears you elicit from the people who love you.

And, then, there was Halloween. Grandma has a serious obsession with this holiday, her very favorite of all the gifting holidays. She gave you the most radical lion costume which you wore as often as we would allow. In fact, you and your daddy ran in a race with you as a lion and your daddy as the lion tamer (the race you, as a chicken, and I ran last year). Appropriately so, you both won the award for best costume.

We should definitely discuss your budding attachment to your daddy. You two have developed something fierce that's not to be messed with. Daddy needs to put you to bed every night without exception. Since you transitioned into your 'big girl bed', you sometimes wake up in the middle of the night demanding to sleep in 'daddy's bed'. Several months ago, your daddy would have never allowed this, but lately he seems to need you just as much as you need him. When we all wake up in the morning, you open your eyes, tap your daddy or me on the forehead and say, "Mama/Dadda, I love you." There is nothing, nothing in the world, I'd rather hear than you saying those words.

You've probably already noticed, but something very peculiar is happening inside my belly. We talk all the time about the baby. You've even felt the baby move, which elicits a cacophony of giggles, but I'm pretty sure you haven't figured out that soon the baby will be in our home and no longer in my belly. My sweet love, I imagine you'll be totally enamored with the new creature for a while, but I also imagine it will be a difficult transition for you. There will be some major changes and adjustments required of you, all of which your daddy and I will try our best to ease you through. Please know that you'll always be my special little one.

There will inevitably be some difficult transitions, but I can't imagine a sweeter, more loving, more dynamic big sister than you. You, my love, are the reason your daddy and I decided to have another baby. You, my love, have made everything in our world brighter and bigger and full of everything good. I want more of that. I want more of you. I cannot wait for you to meet your new baby sister or brother because there is no doubt you will teach us all just how magnificent love can be.

Love,

Mama

Mamaletter: 26 months

Dear Eva,

Two days ago you turned 26 months old and later that night you and I shared a first in our relationship. After a long, hard day of fun and play, I went to bed before you. Your dada's family (Nanny, Grampa Chip, and Uncle Patino) are in town to play with you for a whole week, and during that week you have not gone to bed earlier than 10pm. All the mothers of 2 year olds just let out a huge gasp in unison. At 9:15pm when I reached down to kiss you good night, you were wrestling with Uncle Pat on the floor in front of a TV that was blasting a loud and brightly colored cartoon. Nanny was busily working on a sewing project while Grampa Chip and Dada were continuing discussions of their master plans for the fence. I should also mention that you were allowed to ingest a donut, three Oreo cookies, and several packages of Nemo 'fruit' snacks earlier that day. When I gave Nanny the business about the sugar consumption she replied, "Hey, she's still alive, isn't she?" Yes, my dear. You are very much alive and well.

There have been all sorts of changes over the past two months, some that you enjoy and some that you're not so stoked about. A while ago, your dada and I told you about the little baby in my belly. We told you that it is very tiny and will continue to grow until the baby is ready to join our family. You were totally into the idea and immediately kissed my belly. Then, you turned to dada and asked to kiss the baby in his belly. Dada tried to explain that only girls can have babies in their bellies, to which you responded by asking about the baby in your belly...since you're a girl...with a belly. That's when smoke began to billow out of my ears and we abruptly ended the conversation.

You've been forced to endure a very rough few months for which I want to apologize and thank you for handling as well as you possibly could. Your dada was away for lots of days which left you with only an exhausted shell of a lump to take care of you. Actually, I can't really say that I took care of you as much as I did my very best to provide the basics of life and counted on Jackson and you to work out the rest of the details. That's when you started to hit and bite.

First of all, it's important for you to know that I totally and completely understand where you were coming from. I couldn't figure out what was happening in the midst of the whole thing, but I've come to understand that you were bored and frustrated and unable to make sense of the massive changes we were all experiencing. Honestly, I can't remember much about those weeks because they were so hard for me, and I can only imagine how difficult they were for you, too. But once I started to feel better and Daddy was home for good, you morphed back into your active, charismatic self and retired your boxing gloves and vampire fangs...for now.

I've been struggling lately, trying to figure out how to be the best Mama for you. Until now, our relationship has been effortless and seamless. From the moment they put you into my arms, I knew exactly what to do. I felt like I could and wanted to give you everything you could ever need. Things are different now, and I'm still trying to figure it out. It's a weird feeling to have another baby to think about just as you're growing and changing so fast. Your capacity for learning is astounding, and each time I think I've got it figured out, I realize there is no possible way to keep up with you. And even as I write these words, I'm starting to realize that our relationship is changing. You're a bigger girl now...a bigger girl who doesn't need a hovering Mama paying attention to every single detail of life. I can feel you starting to push and pull as we create something new. I'm also starting to realize that I'm going to make some mistakes trying to learn from you...remember I'm a little bit slower than you these days. But even as I trip over myself and face plant in a pile of your diapers, always understand that I'm trying. I'm trying my very best, and when I mess everything up one thing will always remain constant. I will always, always, always love you more than you will ever know. That you can count on.

Love,

Mama