Twelve Months

One year and countless memories later.


This time last year, we met face-to-face for the first time. You, an impish, wrinkled and somewhat orangish baby, and me, a tired, bedraggled new mom hopped up on lidocaine. It was love at first sight. I remember seeing your face as your dad held you up to mine and I never imagined I could be so happy to see someone I never knew before. At that moment, I thought you were just perfect. I look at the pictures now and realize you were puffy and misshapen at the time, but love blinds us, c'est non?


As I looked in on you sleeping last night, I remembered our first night together in the hospital. I don't think I slept more than 15 minutes at a time because I kept wanting to make sure you were okay. That and I needed another hit of codeine to get me through the EXCRUTIATING PAIN of having my stomach sliced open. Sorry. I don't mean to scream, Jack. The memories of 34 hours in labour are long forgotten. Well, not really. That will come with many more nights of cabarnet sauvignon and electroshock therapy. But, as I watched you sleep that night I cried and cried because I felt so thankful to have you beside me. I cried because you reminded me of all that can be perfect in the world, and I cried because I knew how blessed your dad and I were to be able to bring your little life into the world. And really, I just cry a lot, too.


We didn't have the easiest start together. You weren't always content with life and were often unsatisfied with what we had to offer. I was overwhelmed and scared. I was convinced you were unhappy because I was doing something wrong. I was sure you were going to turn out to be an illiterate, angry, shoplifting head of an environmentally unresponsible company with questionable accounting practices. And it was going to be all my fault. But then two and half months passed and you calmed down a bit. And then six months passed and you were smiling to everyone and happily babbling to all who would listen. And then ten months came and you were crawling and playing contentedly on your own. And now you are one-year old and you are a different boy than you were those many months ago. You smile and talk and make faces at us just to make us laugh. I no longer feel uncertain or frightened of the next day. Instead, you've renewed my spirit, my life. I think we had to go through the dark parts together, Jack, just so we could appreciate the beauty and brightness of these times more fully.


In this last month you've, pardon the pun, taken great strides towards walking. You are becoming increasingly intent on making it happen. You've managed a few shaky steps each day and we're now just waiting for when we pull you out of your crib, set you down, and you walk right over to the dining room for breakfast like you've been doing it all along. You have also become our favorite party trick. Dad makes a face and you mimic it. We say a word and you try to repeat it. We ask "Where's Barney?" and you make a dash for your new favorite brown bear. Like I've said all along, it seems we would go weeks at a time where nothing new would happen and then, WHAMMO. You pull out the word "apple", start pointing at things, waving bye-bye to everyone, and the world changes daily. It's absolutely fascinating to watch, Jack. You are so smart and so perceptive. I knew my genes would come in handy for something. That and the ridiculously curly blond hair that is starting to tangle itself behind your head like the snakes of Medusa.


It's been one heck of a year, kiddo. I am honestly so excited about this next year and all the stuff we'll get to do together. You are my best excuse for going to the zoo, visiting water parks and talking maniacally about produce at the grocery store. You give me reason to make the decisions I do in my life and oddly enough, having you as a baby in our family this year has actually shown me a freedom I never thought I'd find in life. Happy Birthday, baby boy!

Love,
Your Momma

Eleven Months

Can you feel the countdown in the air, Jack? Can you feel the electricity, the excitement, the sheer pulsing of the universe as we approach 12 months? It's like the moments before the ball drops in Times Square on New Year's Eve, but minus the drunks and alleyways that smell like urine.

But man, this 11 months thing has been cool. You're becoming a little boy right before our eyes. We talk, you respond. We laugh, you giggle. We swig whiskey on the couch in our underwear, you drink water from a straw. These are the magical moments of being almost one.


You've started using words with some context applied to them. Sure, you are still the king of muttering random syllables at inappropriate times of night and day, but you've also figured out what certain things are called. Like "dada". When he leaves in the morning as you eat breakfast, we make a big production out of saying "bye bye" to "dada". Of course, you don't respond to any of that. You just like me to look like a boob as I sit with my matted hair and frog pyjamas waving moronically at your dad. But, as soon as he walks out of the house and locks the door, you usually then make a quizzical face and say "dada?" Kind of like "Oh, you mean that big bald guy was leaving. That's what your hysterics were all about?"


You also manage to sneak out a "bye bye" and a "momma" on rare occasion. "Momma" is typically reserved for when you are particularly frustrated or angry. That's really nice. Having your name associated with moments of sheer madness. Really. I'm touched. I have tried in vain to get you to say "paella" if not for the simple fact I really just wanted to tell people your first word was "paella". I mean, really, how many kids can claim that? That totally would have got us on Oprah.

We celebrated our first Christmas as a new family a few weeks ago. We spent Christmas Eve walking the neighbourhood to look at Christmas lights and opening some of your 324 gifts. We were so excited about all your presents that we made you stay up late to open them with us. Please make note of five words in that sentence that we learned a little lesson from: made you stay up late. One of our family members wasn't too happy about being kept out of bed an hour too long. But, no rest for the wicked, little man, as we hauled off to Grandma's and Grandpa's house for Christmas morning. Normally, we'd have celebrated the day sitting with a nice cup of coffee, eaten a nice, warm breakfast and casually chatted as we slowly opened gifts. Now take the inverse of each of those statements and you have what we ended up with. It was crazy and chaotic and an absolute hornet's nest of activity. But you loved every nutty second of it. You were most excited about flailing wrapping paper about and trying to eat bows. I was most excited we didn't have to end up visiting the ER that morning to remove gold curly ribbon from your trachea.


For my birthday, you spent two entire nights away from your dad and I. You managed the transition really well and charmed them - mostly - with your usual Jackness. Minus the part where you lost your ever-loving mind because dinner wasn't served when you requested it. The nerve of those hosts. Pish tosh. You've also done so well with our new nanny who I believe you think is your designated play giver from heaven. Never mind anything else, just PLAY with me WOMAN. I suspect she spoils you by simply focusing every morsel of her being on your play time. It is woefully disappointing for you the next day when you are stuck with me and you're all "WHOA WOMAN!? Why are you not crawling on the floor with me making chicken noises and tickling me?"


How much have I loved this past month? More than I could ever say, Jack. That sense of recognition and joy that sweeps over you when you see me or your dad is just overwhelming. The times when we laugh and then you laugh to imitate us is the sweetest sound to me. And how you point up at the light EVERY SINGLE NIGHT at dinner to show us that you know that if you point at it, we'll tell you what it is. Again. And again. And again. And I would do it a hundred times over if it let me see that pride and joy in your face, my sweet bubby.

Love,
Your Momma

Happy New Year

Hey little man, you just celebrated your first New Year's Eve bash by staying up super late and setting a new Jack-O-Maniac bedtime record - 8:30PM! We went to a friend's house and you partied with their daughter like it was 1999. I just wanted to wish you a Happy New Year and thank you for the last year with all the joy, laughter and smiles you've brought into our lives (we'll forget about all the moaning, pooping and crying). So, here's hoping you have a wonderful year.

Love,
Pops

Ten Months

Ten months, five teeth, three days without whining, one happy boy. You've temporarily let go of your momma's apron strings and are now becoming a bit more independent each day. Which means much less whining and trying to crawl up me and much more playing with the large green dinosaur now inhabiting the living room. Along with the "Learn n' Play" lawn mower. I'm not sure why Fisher Price thinks you need to learn to play with a large, blade-equipped piece of machinery, but whatever. You've got ten fingers and technically only really need two to eat with anyway.


I still get nothing but comments on how charming and sweet and smiley and pinchable you are whenever we go out. It's a little nauseating, really. One woman even stopped us the other day at the grocery store to say how much you were like a baby Paul Newman. Ummmm. Sure. I think she'd been spending a little too much time in the pharmaceutical aisle. Either way, you've become an attention hound, seeking out the limelight wherever we go. I'm convinced you have a future in entertainment or politics. Oh, please, let it be entertainment. I soooo want to meet the cast of Lost.


This being December, you've also had your first experience with Jolly Ol' Saint Nick. You've had this issue with men for a while where if they approach you too quickly in a new situation, you lose your ever-loving baby mind. Women, no problem. Men, be gone. I was very worried we'd be having a merry meltdown, but you were just very, very curious about this guy. What's with the ridiculously overgrown beard you neo-hippy freak, I could see you wondering. I'm proud of how inquisitive you were and how stable you remained. That's my boy. Stable.


Your new favorite activity this month has been standing. You like to do it anywhere and everywhere. Car seat? Check. Stroller? Check. Crib in the middle of the night? Check. You are so highly proud of yourself and like to smile and screech to announce to anyone within a ten-mile radius that you, the living younger twin to Paul Newman, are upright. With this new skill comes the requisite tipping over and banging your head on every household surface. Still Paul Newman's twin, but just with more tears and a poutier lip.


As we came upon your tenth month, your personality again changed and we got to see more of that brighter, smilier boy we knew was in there. You seemed to have lightened up a bit and learned to relax in the world. It now seems a little less intimidating and a lot more exciting to you. It's such a treat to watch you try out a new skill or just smile your toothy little grin when you've triumphantly pulled yourself up beside the couch to grab the remote. I love this time, Jack. I can't wait to explore more of the nooks and crannies of our lives and home together. You are a crazy, busy, squeezable ball of energy that vibrates the best of what life has to offer all of us. I just wish you didn't need to tell us how wonderful it all is to you as you dance in your crib at five in the morning.

Love,
Your Momma

Just Chilling with the World's Largest Teepee

Jack is on the road again. We left Calgary on Friday and you were an awesome little roadie. You slept for an hour and a half, ate a bottle and then only moaned for ten minutes before settling down for some serious thumb sucking and blue bear time. Before you knew it we were in the Hat where you ferociously attacked the unbaby-proofed house of Grandma Beresh. I think you love it here because there is shiny stuff everywhere. However, your greatest find is a maraca from some Caribbean destination that Grandma bought for $0.50. It tastes great and is as big as your head. Good times. little man.

Anway, you've been close to an angel here filling the house with sounds of laughter and constant cabinet door bashing. You're going to be choked when we get home to those large, inaccessible pot drawers. I can't figure out why you are in such a good mood here but at home you follow your mother around moaning at her. Is this part of a long-term plan to get her to buy you your first car? I strongly recommend changing your tactics as I don't think she'll buy you an air filter at the rate your going. Just back off her a bit and put a smile on your face while you wait for your morning bananas rolled in brown rice cereal. Yummmmmmmm.

As for things you did this weekend - we hit the mall for some Christmas shopping where you stopped everyone with your smile and fruit puffs crunching face. We went to church this morning where you were bombarded by people just wanting to stop and smile and you blessed them with your beautiful smile. There was a children's pagent and you sat for half an hour with just a little bit of monkey wrestling and baboon moaning. I thought we'd only make it five minutes in and I'd have to take you out of the gym.

Overall, it's been a nice weekend and I thank you for being you, smelly diaper and all - smelly maybe because you've been eating at a chicken breast a day since we arrived.

Love ya,
Pops

Nine Months

Last week you turned nine months. Your time on earth is now equivalent to the time you spent swimming and somersaulting and lounging lazily about in the limpid lagoon of liquid from which you emerged. Kind of like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, but less amphibious and more babyious.

This month you finally got that monkey off your back and started crawling. Grandma Brenda always says I'm trying to make you grow up too fast by wanting you to hit all these milestones. But let me tell you something. Grandma Brenda isn't the one who has to interrupt her celebrity gossip web site surfing...errr, ummm...I mean studies of the human genome...to hand you your plastic cubes every fifteen seconds every single day of every single week. Now, you can reach your own plastic cubes. And dog hairballs under the sofa. And remnants of dog treats. And dog toys. You've pooped more long black dog hair in your short life than most non-pet owners have in their entire lives. Another milestone of which you can be mighty proud.


To say we've been having a power struggle this past month would be like saying the Arctic Ocean is a little chilly come November. Since you started crawling, you have this perception that perhaps you rule the roost. That you are king of the hill. That you are the George Bush to our little independent nation. Well, tiny man, let me tell you something. YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME. No siree. That role has already been taken by Grandma Brenda. Ha, ha. Just kidding Grandma Brenda. No, really. Perhaps this tenacious streak you have - this persistance to have things your way - perhaps this will all pay off some day for you. It may inspire you to lead a multi-national company that discovers the cure for cancer. It may drive you to devise a global plan for world peace. It may catapult you to power as a dictator of a small foreign land.


But, take away the daily battles for world domination and we've got ourselves a pretty hilarious kid. Your top two outside teeth have come in this month making you look a lot like a miniature Count Dracula. We started going to a little play class once a week and you absolutely love it. You love seeing the other kids there and taking their toys away (see earlier dictator comments for clarification). But most of all you love the parachute game. We toss it in the air and you crawl underneath and it's like you found the end of a rainbow. You laugh and laugh and smile that glorious vampire smile. Those are the times when I remember how sweet and special you are. You are completely lost in the moment. Thoroughly enraptured by some colored nylon and the certainty of gravity. I love that you are just there and, for a few magical moments, as happy as your little heart will allow you to be.

I love you, Bubby.

Love,
Your Momma

Jack-o'-Lantern

Happy first Halloween!

Sleepless in New York

Jack, I'm about to head off to New York for six days and Mom is a little nervous. This weekend wasn't a great display of your award winning personality and we're trying to blame it on your flaming butt of fire (Johnny Cash would be proud). I hope you are fairly sane and are more enteraining than annoying and bring smiles to your mom's face. I haven't left you or your mother for this long before and I'm not looking forward to it. As much as I want to experience new things, I'm worried about what your moaning will do to your mother for six days. So, please play nice and I can't wait to see you again. As much as I complain about your constant wookie impersonations (sans back hair) I think you're the best alarm clock in the world when I enter your room and you've got the biggest smile on your face ready to embrace another day.

See you soon.
Love pops

Eight Months

Nine days ago you turned eight months old. I forget how quickly nine days turns into 30 and then here I need to be back again writing another monthly update. Slow down the time, child. How does it happen that these months fly by, yet on the days when you are so frustrated with life because I've again served you broccoli when you clearly wanted blueberry applesauce and only blueberry applesauce served to you on a spoon at a pace of approximately one mouthful every seven seconds seems to last FOREVER and EVER. Those moments drag like all eternity and yet, voila, you are eight months old and here I sit mouth agape wondering when this all happened.


You've become a real little sitting machine this past month. When you started sitting you looked like one of those punching clowns that just rocks around and around without falling but all the while looking very unstable. Occasionally, it's like you completely forget you are sitting and you just fall straight backwards. No fear, Jack, no fear. Like those trust-building exercises people do where they fall backwards into the arms of others, but you don't bother with the part where there are others there to catch you. No siree. You just fall because your no panty-waisted scaredy cat. You usually end up crying like a baby, but we forgive you for now since you are still technically a baby.


You took your first trip alone with your dad this month to Medicine Hat to visit Grandma Bev. I was more sad to see you go than I ever expected. And then I went shopping. And I was much less sad and a lot more poor. But I did it for you, little Jackie. I did it because I know it is important to you that you have a stylish mom with perfectly fitting jeans and jaunty little sweaters with this season's longer camisoles that are the ideal blend of sexy and Gymboree appropriate. You two boys had a great time and by the time you got home, I was a sobbing wreck. I missed you with an ache and emptiness I can't even begin to describe. And then you started on that whole blueberry applesauce freak out thing again and I think I was ready to miss you some more.


You continue to dazzle men and women alike whenever I take you out. Whenever someone doesn't take the time to notice your blue sweater that perfectly matches your blue toque, you like to scream UUUUHHHHHHH until they look. They may be standing beside us in a cashier line or they may be 40 feet down at the end of an aisle. Either way, it is important to you that they acknowledge your charm and cuteness at some point. Your toes have been squeezed more times than I've had any appendage squeezed in my lifetime. And this month you did not freak out on anyone and just pleasantly smiled as they grabbed your legs, pinched your chin, tousled your hair, kissed your hands, and poked your cheeks. One of the unfortunate outcomes of this is that I think you've come to expect this level of attention at all times. So if we're just spending a casual afternoon at home eating, I can sense your disappointment when I don't act amazed while you are eating your puffed wheat.

You've continued to challenge me and help me grow this month, Jack. There are times when your fairly constant moaning and groaning have gotten the better of me and I've contemplated checking into a nice quiet facility somewhere in Vermont. There are other times when you are so angry you start to put together all your sounds and you occassionally sputter out "mamamamamama". These are moments where you obviously wish to be taken very seriously, but I can only smile at the fact you've given me a name. You've given me so much more than just that, my little boy. For every moment I've doubted I can manage another second, you've given me hundreds more moments where I've doubted I could be anywhere else and be as happy as you make me. I love you baby.

Love,
Your Momma

Does Whatever a Spider Can

Holy gravitational pull, little Jack. You did it! You crawled your first steps yesterday while staring adoringly at your aunt Candace. Granted, they were shaky, wobbly little moves, but you have made it onto the scale of crawlingness with a rough score of about four for your first attempt. I'd have given you a five if you would have recited the alphabet at the same time.

This morning you were eager to practice it all again. Today you made much more deliberate strides towards your chosen destination. You still look a lot like a rickety old bicycle someone abandoned in an alleyway in some small village in France that is missing several key bolts and perhaps the steering bar. But, you are officially mobile my little Potato Bug. Sure, Potato Bug. Why not? It's better than the usual Monkey Butt you get.

You already seem a little happier with life now that you can get from Point A to Point B on your own. I think it must feel like the same freedom I felt when I got my first car and took my girlfriend to a mall on the other side of the city. I was all, "Ohhh, look at me. Driving. Miss Driving McDriverson. Hello, can I drive you somewhere because I'm now officially a driving driver." Yeah, it was all freedom and good times, Jack. Freedom and good times until some dip nut hit my car when I was in the mall and drove off. Then it was all payment slavery and shame. And my point? Well, my point Jack is don't be parking your little behind somewhere while you go checking out your shiny new Weebles farm set. You'll come back and it'll be all dinged up and you'll be all "Whoa, hey, I HAD a buttery smooth behind when I left here."

"That was her point?" you are now asking yourself. Really, I don't know. But I do know we are proud of your chubby little arms and legs for propelling you into the wonderful world of forward movement. Welcome aboard, matey.

Love,
Your Momma

Funny Like I'm a Clown

This week the world is your oyster and you are the baby sittting beside the oyster laughing uncontrollably. Over the last few days, you've started laughing at yourself, by yourself, for yourself. We aren't sure what is so darn amusing, but man, you must have a few good jokes rattling around in those little developing synapses of yours. Perhaps you overheard my joke about the horse in the bar and are just now getting around to understanding the punch line. Or maybe you've just realized the hilarity of that knock knock joke about the sailor that I was telling that woman in Starbucks two weeks ago. Regardless, there are times when you just burst out in laughter. Which is all fun and great in that way that baby things are unless it happens at five in the morning when THERE IS REALLY NOTHING FUNNY AT FIVE IN THE A OF M MISTER HARDY HAR HAR PANTS.

And what is cutest/strangest/weirdest/creepiest of all is the laugh you've decided to go with. Like some babies just have that belly chuckle. Like some babies have that giggle that rolls in waves across their entire bodies. Like those babies you are not like. Instead, you've chosen what I can only best describe as a laugh like an asthmatic donkey with its leg caught in the gate. While a farmer is stabbing it with a pitchfork.

It's glorious in its uniqueness, Jack. I feel fortunate that I'd be able to pick you out of a crowded mall from four stores away simply by listening for it.

Love,
Your Momma

Seven Months

You started your sixth month with beautiful, shiny pink gums and only the ability to roll and lay prone. This may sound like more than enough to most babies, but you gone done outshone them lil' uns again. You didn't sprout just one boring old tooth. Any kid can do that. You grew TWO entire teeth all on your own within three days of each other. When they ask at your preschool admissions if you are showing any signs of advanced learning, you can be sure I'll note this accomplishment with great parental glee. He done grew two teeth at once, ma'am.


On top of it, you've made great strides towards sitting. The problem is, you seem to detest sitting. More than I hate Paris Hilton. You'll do it for a few minutes and then it's like you are trying to imitate a plank by flinging yourself backwards to move back into a laying position. It's like a little switch goes off in your head that says, "Okaydonenowlaydownrightnow". Me thinks you've been watching your momma too much. Laying is good, yes, and your momma enjoys it as much as the next first-time, overly paranoid, perfectionist mother, but there is a limit. You need to find a balance, Grasshopper.


You are now also indicating you may like to crawl soon. It started with you laying on your tummy and just kicking your arms and legs as fast and furious as they would go. You got no where but tired. Then you started with your little military push ups. But lately, you've risen up on those chubby little knees and pushed up on those lanky arms at the same time all the while rocking back and forth. Like a drunk intending on getting up off the ground to walk to his bed as the room swirls around him. Except your drinking is limited to formula. And the occasional shot of tequila before bed.


For the longest time I thought you had just given up on all development. That you were content to just lay staring at the octopus and turtle occupying your activity gym. That you felt silly activities such as sitting and moving were beneath you. And then suddenly, you just started everything all at once. Maybe that instant coffee we started adding to the formula has finally started to kick in. You have been such a fascinating, amazing boy to watch. I love when we laugh at you that you imitate us and start laughing right back. Which makes us laugh more because it's like you are trying to be cordial and polite by laughing with us to make us feel better. Which makes you laugh more and start hee-hawing like a donkey. Which makes me spit milk out my nose. Special times, Jack, special times.

I have come to look forward to our walks together during the day. On the breezier days, I love watching your tiny little wisps of almost translucent blond hair blow straight up towards the sky. Like audience members suddenly coming to their feet following a particularly moving performance. And when I peek around the front of the stroller, seeing you sucking the living daylights out of your seat straps, you smile the smile to end all smiles. It's like you are surprised and excited I'm there again. "There's that lady. Again. Huh. She's funny enough. Now where's that puffed wheat?" And at the end of the day when your dad comes home and grabs you and bounces you across every surface in the living room, that smile returns. Your mouth becomes the thinnest little line and your cheeks puff off the side of your face and you end up looking like a little barbell has been inserted into your mouth.


My baby boy. I still can't believe it's true even as I sit here and stare at the words. My. Boy. I end each day with a strange mix of joy and sadness as I watch you change. For all the happiness it brings me to see your new toothy smile, a part of me saddens knowing my boy with the gummy little smile is now gone. For as excited as I am as you work on becoming a mobile little being, I long for the days of just a few months ago when I could just hold you and hold you and hold you and you wouldn't fuss for anything more. It's all happening far too fast, Jack. I love it and hate it all at the same time. I guess that's the wonder and joy and sadness of being a mom. I love you baby boy.

Love,
Your Momma

Cheerleader

Hi, tonight you came you to soft ball to watch dad embarass himself in our first playoff game. We lost by 5 runs but had a great night. Seeing you and your mama helped my batting average but as soon as you left I hit an infield fly. You weren't too happy to be away from your bed and were giving your mom a hard time. She attempted to feed you a wonderful feast of sweet potato and oatmeal but nothing would make you a happy camper. Hopefully you'll enjoy the next game a little more.

Love B.

Six Months

Earlier this week as we basked in the heat and endless prairies that are Saskatchewan, you turned six months old. I think you've travelled more in these first few months of life than I did for the first 18 years of mine. I expect one morning to wake and find you covered with travel stickers that have been slapped on you marking your time at each holiday destination. Sure, you may not have those exotic stickers adorning the trunks of 1920s travellers to Europe who may have returned home with images of Paris and London stuck to their baggage. But, baby, you got better. Buck Lake. Drumheller. Elbow. These are the bright lights and big cities that most other six-month olds can only dream of.


The world is your oyster. Or at least your sweet potatoe. This past month you've started eating solid foods. Let me rephrase that. You've started accepting solid foods into your mouth and then bllaaabbbbshhbbbing it all over your face. The last few days you have sharply protested being placed in your high chair with the tray covering your legs because...I shudder to believe we've even done this to you...because it DENIES YOU ACCESS TO YOUR FEET FOR MORE THAN FIVE CONSECUTIVE SECONDS. Eating oatmeal and applesauce is not enough for you. You need to simultaneously have food, your thumb, and a minimum of four toes in your mouth at any given sitting to avoid a meltdown no one has seen since denying Mel Gibson a martini.


You continue to amaze your dad and me with how adaptable you are to new situations. You readily explore anything new. Generally by shoving it in your mouth. You win people over time and time again with that infectious, coy little smile of yours. I've never yet seen you not smile at someone who took the time to talk with you, pinch those enormous cheeks or tweak your sausage toes. Time and time again we hear how happy you are and how easy going you are. These people obviously have not seen you once you've decided it is time for your bottle.


Jack, you are an amazing gift. For every month you've grown, you've helped me grow immeasurably more. It has not been easy for me to be a mom. I'm not a natural and I'm nowhere near perfect. But my love for you knows no bounds. As tired as I am each day as we put you to bed, I can't wait to see you again in the morning. As hard as it is to do the same things over and over each day, I can't wait for the next day to do it all over again with you. In just half a year, you've taught me more about myself than I've learned in the last five. You've made me a more patient, more loving, more understanding woman. All that in just six months? Just imagine what you and I will achieve together in the next six.


Love,
Your Momma

Not So Much the Lady's Man

You love the girls, but they just don't love you back, Jack. We've already covered off your cousin Alyce who is usually too busy to give you a second look or if she does look at you it's usually because she is trying to stab you in the eye with her finger. And now, little Ava. Just two weeks your elder, I think she's already looking for older men. Try as you may to capture her attention, she just shuns you in favor of a rattle. Oh, my sweet son. It is only the beginning of a lifelong struggle with the other sex.

But, I appreciate how at such a young age you've already mastered sign language to explain just how you feel about the whole situation.

Love,
Your Momma

Welcome Home Little Man

This past weekend was the first time in six months that I was left home alone. Tabitha took Jack up north to Buck Lake for 5 days and it was very strange to come home to an empty house. I don't think I realized how much I enjoy waking up to the sounds of little man gigling and babbling and tucking him in at the end of a busy day. It seems like a long time since I've heard Jack laugh and am really looking forward to seeing him tonight. I hope he had fun up there but I'm glad he's back along with my wonderful wife. See you soon.

Love pops.

Once, Rice, Three Times a Baby

Yesterday was your first day trying out solid foods. Or, what The Establishment calls "solid foods". Really, it is just nasty old rice cereal made so runny it might as well be milk. But you get to eat it with a SPOON. Apparently if the food enters your mouth via something other than a nipple, you are on the road to solidified food eating. When you look back on this moment at the ripe old age of 17 and shoving your fifth hamburger with extra cheese and double bacon into your mouth, this little foray with rice cereal won't seem like such a big deal, I'm sure.

You took to the gruel extremely well. I think you've been patiently waiting for this moment for some time. It's like you've known for a month now you could handle the stuff and were just waiting for us to get on with the program. No gagging, no choking, no horrific fits of screaming bloody murder. Just you, your over-moisturized rice flakes, and pure happiness.

Love,
Your Momma

The Joys of Bachelorhood

Jack and I are solo tonight. Tabitha is heading out for some much needed girl time and I hope she has a wonderful time. I can't wait for Jack to be old enough to enjoy these nights where we're left to fend for ourselves. Tonights menu was BBQ chicken pizza and I wish I could have shared some with the little man. Instead he was stuck with another bottle of delicious formula. He'll be moving onto solid food soon and I'm sure he's not going to miss the formula.

So, Jack, I apologize for waiting so long to write something here. I can't believe you've been with us for over 5 months. I don't remember what life was like without you. I've always liked mornings but I love them now as we often wake up to you talking and laughing away until we come get you and are blessed to see the biggest smile in the world. However, the smile doesn't last too long as we usually try to feed you quickly but you still lose your mind until you get a nipple is in your mouth. Then it's all smiles again. You're en excellent sleeper and love your bed. Tonight you wanted your bed so badly we didn't even get through a story. You just keep moaning and grunting as I tried to read Where the Wid Things Are. I interpreted this "as get out of my room this exact instance" so we'll continue the story tomorrow night.

Hope you have a great sleep and I'll see you tomorrow morning for another walk with our infamous hound named Theo.

Love pops.

Water Baby

Ahhh, your first time in a pool. You just turn five months and here we are risking your life with PLASTICS and WATER all at the same time. If you listen carefully, you'll hear your dad and second cousin Troy discussing - surprise, surprise - the Oilers. And the Chris Pronger Trade. Oh, sweet Moses. The Chris Pronger Trade. It'll be in the history books, Jack. I'm assuming it must be the sporting event of the century given how much your dad has discussed, dissected, and opined about it. There is no greater sin in life, dear Jack, then asking to be traded by the Oilers. Murder, assault, New York crime boss. They don't hold a candle to asking to leave the Oilers. Just be glad you were too young to remember hearing about this every single day for the entire 2006 hockey off season. BE VERY GLAD.



Love,
Your Momma

Five Months

Last week you turned five months after putting your poor, poor momma through two and a half weeks of pure parental torture. If you didn't have that goofy grin and such huge earning potential in the next 25 years, I think I may have shoved you inside the gas company payment envelope and asked them to charge us a little extra every month in exchange for taking our screaming banshee of a son. But, last week, just like the sun breaking through a cluster of thunder clouds, the you that you were before those two and half weeks came back. Apparently, you were just as disturbed as I was about the annual return of the Calgary Stampede and just needed to get it out of your system. I completely understand.


This past month you've been so anxious to try out new things. You've fallen madly, deeply, strangely in love with the Jolly Jumper. It's gotten to the point that when I burp you over my shoulder, you automatically begin bobbing up and down, up and down. It's as if you want to say, "Hey, milkmaid, hurry along here. I got me some fierce hopping to do." And you grin and you grin as you spin and boing and drool in your little blue heaven.

But, water has also become a friend of yours that vies for your fickle affections. Sort of like my boyfriends in elementary school. One day, your dancing to Every Breathe You Take in your friend's basement with the boy with curly red hair, and the next week you are sure you will be living in California in your white-carpeted apartment with white cat and white Fiero with the boy who shared the purple Fizz candy with you. You've taken to splashing up a mean tidal wave in the bathtub and wildly flailing the water off your high chair tray. And you were a regular Jacque Cousteau your first time in the blow-up pool. This time is so much better than the first few baths your dad and I gave you when you first arrived and you would cry like we were trying to make you solve fractional calculus before feeding you.


One of the best moments of my day is coming to get you out of bed in the morning. The moment you see me, your face lights up with that smile that just eats your whole face. It's like your cheeks expand exponentially beyond your face to make room for the widest, happiest mouth known to man. My second favorite time is at night when I come to check on you as you sleep. You are so peaceful, so perfect. I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything on earth. You are my crazy, busy, charming, adorable boy. I love you sweet pea.


Love,
Your Momma