Dear Boy

Levi, 

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.

Love,
Mom