Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Go go go

Levi Hawk,

You're busy, amazing, always on the go.  I'm around, watching and marveling.  It is unbelievable that so much can happen in such a short period of time.  You crawl as fast as a grown-up jogger's warm-up pace.  You push your little cart around with a quickness.  You could walk if you let yourself go.  But for now, you proceed with some caution, holding on to things as you amble around (although sometimes you forget to hold on so you stand on your own).  You LOVE your kitty and your dog.  In fact, besides "dadda" and "mama", you love to say "DAWG", although more often it's "daw".  Your face is serious when you utter the word, and you usually point your finger to accompany your seriousness.

You had a few weeks when you didn't want to sleep.  It didn't last long, but I got a glimpse into what it feels like to be a tiny bit sleep deprived.  You're done with that now.  You sleep well again.  You also stopped liking baths for a while, but now they're okay.  Somewhat doable.  We go to a swimming class with other moms and babies.  You are definitely the most intense kid in the class.  The other kids splash and look on with a sort of oblivious expression on their faces.  You hold on tight to me mostly.  The water doesn't take the brunt of your 30 pounds.  I do.  And my biceps and deltoids can attest to this.  You like when I jog in the water.  You laugh when the chlorine makes you sneeze.  In and out of the water, you like to constantly be moving.  Even when we cuddle, you climb up me like I'm a climbing wall.  You are deftly athletic, perhaps like your daddy.

And, like I said before, you LOVE your kitty and new dog--no doubt like your mommy does.  Tonight you may have even said "kih" to your cat.  We'll see in the coming days if  you keep that one up.  You're capable of stacking three to four objects like blocks or spools.  You yell "YEAH!" when you're ready for applause after a successful stack.  You clap, play peek-a-boo, point, and dance better than Justin Timberlake.  Everyone knows I always wanted to be a mom, but not as many know that I secretly dreamed of dancing with you before I even met you.  Lo and behold, you're already this terrific dancer and I just can't believe that your dad and I get to be the lucky ones who get down with you daily in the kitchen and in the car.

A year ago I was huge and you were overdue and I knew on this day in 2010 that you weren't going to be coming for a while still.  I just knew it, and it turned out to be true.  Now it's 2011 and I still am me--but better because of you.  You are my sun, moon, and stars.  What was there before there was you?  I don't care to remember.


Saturday, January 8, 2011

Dear Boy


Eight months have flown by.  I haven't been keeping up so well in the written word department but it's okay because you and I talk every day in real life.  I am interested in so many things underneath the sun, but nothing compares to you and the many ways you inspire me.  You are my muse, you're most of the thoughts that I think, you're the smile on my lips, and you're my constant companion.

Other moms and dads of grown children have told me that they can't remember lots of things about their kids' infancy stage.  It feels like I'll never forget anything about you but I'd be a fool to think my memory could keep everything straight.  So here are a few things I hope to never forget:

You love to ride in the car.  We drove for over 14 hours one weekend on a trip to the desert and you hardly cried at all.  You even had a cold.  You're a great traveler--so calm and content out on the open road.  It seems like you like to look at the world going by your window.

Your dad is the bath guy since he gives the funnest baths.  You love playing in the water.  You laugh at dogs.  You have one tooth that makes a crunching noise when you snack on Mum Mums rice crackers.  You have never refused to eat anything I've fed you.  You especially love sweet potatoes, carrots, bananas, and all fruit.  You're less crazy about peas, but you'll still eat them.  Slowly.  You give amazing hugs and kisses.  We weren't certain what color your eyes would be.  They're bright and brown and beautiful.  When you talk, you tell us things like "dadadadada", "babababa", "tssssst", "tsssdat".  You like to dance.  You put your arms out like an airplane when we dance with you.  You are very in tune with your surroundings.  You are incredibly responsive and sensitive to sounds and music.  You are dexterous with your fingers and you love to tap on surfaces with objects.  (Your dad does that all the time--mostly with his fingers on countertops and tabletops.  Maybe you'll be a musician like he is.)  You seem to be distrustful of public bathrooms and you're not sure if you like the vacuum.  You let everyone hold you who wants to.  You were okay meeting Santa.  You weren't scared.  You just sat on his lap and checked him out.  You really liked the boy who sat on his lap before you.  You reached out to him but he didn't reach back.  You smile often and have very expressive eyes and eyebrow moves.  When we go out, people usually say that you're "a beautiful boy".  Your cheeks are also a massive hit with the public.  You love to be outside and I'm pretty sure you'll love crawling.  It seems like you'll be a crawler any day now.  

It has not been hard being your mommy.  It just hasn't.  I know we'll go through difficult things as a family, but so far, it has been such a beautiful thing getting to know you and take care of you.  You are a VERY easy baby.  You sleep and eat well and you are generally very content.  We really don't deserve such a great situation but we are so thankful that we have it.

During a small talk session, someone I didn't know well asked me how I like being a mom.  It's so hard to do justice in responding to such a question.  To give a small answer does a disservice, and any answer consisting of words just wouldn't work the way I'd want it to anyhow.  I am not good enough at manipulating words so that EVERYONE UNDERSTANDS just how I feel about you.  Anyway, I told this person something like, "there was no life before there was my son."  He seemed sort've taken aback.  I guess I did sound pretty dramatic, but it's just so hard to make someone understand how much better things are because of you.  (And they were already pretty good to begin with.)

I love you and I'm so proud of you.  Your dad feels the same.  We're so happy we get to be in this thing for the long haul.