Progress Report: Month Three

Dear Jack,

Today you turned three months old. Where has the time gone?

It has been a busy month for you and I. You got your first vaccinations, which you handled like a champ, with hardly a whimper for just a moment. 

This month we really started to get into a routine, beyond the lazy baby days of predictable sleep needs - every two hours, like clockwork. We figured out bedtime and best nap times, we found your favourite time for walks, and even how much layering on cold days you'll tolerate from your crazy mum (hint: not a lot). 

I didn't really know what to expect, being your mum, but it turns out it's pretty easy. You change, all the time, just when we've gotten used to whatever state we've found ourselves in. Nothing warms my heart more than hearing your chortling laugh or seeing your giant smiles for strangers. You're so ridiculously happy - when you cry it's for good reason and heartfelt.

Just this past week we went on our first solo trip, to Halifax to visit my family. You went on your first ever plane ride and you charmed the flight crews in both directions - I hardly got to keep you on my lap at all, they were so busy carrying your smiley face up and down the aisles. Instead of crying on takeoff of landing, you smushed your soother in your moth and then spit it out in peals of laughter as we ascended and descended. I guess you'll be ok with air travel, munchkin. I shouldn't have worried so much.

While we were away you met lots of my aunts and uncles, and got lots of snuggles from your grandparents but my favourite part of the trip was you meeting your great-grandparents. Not everyone is lucky enough to meet their great grandparents (or their great-grandchildren) and it was so obvious how much they loved you right away. I hope you'll get to have some of the same experiences and traditions with them that I did when I was a little girl. They are very special people who already think the world of you.

This month your development accelerated - all of a sudden you're laughing hysterically, chewing on your hands (you found them!), twisting your body around to see things and tummy time is a breeze. You're awake and alert more and more, and we're still continuing to expand your musical library with Leonard Cohen and others. We sometimes run out of things to do with you, so I hope you'll forgive us for all the times we've shown you the pantry. Years from now you'll see a box of crackers and feel a familiar longing for your mum, maybe. 

You've moved from sleeping in your swing to sleeping in a crib in our bedroom. We put you in a funny magic merlin suit - kind of a giant yellow marshmallow - that is supposed to make you feel snug and happy and keep you from startling in the wee hours of the night. You're not sure what to think of it, and nor am I really. Being a parent seems to involve being scared of a lot of transitions - I was scared to move you from the swing to a flat bed, because we would be giving up a good long night of sleep every night. But you surprised me and sleep almost just as fine there too. Now I'm scared to take you out of that suit, lest you go back to waking up every twenty minutes, which is fun for exactly no one in this house (including Max). Baby steps, and one day you'll sleep like a dream, I hope.

It's hard to believe how quickly three months has gone by, or that in another three, we'll be feeding you your first bits of real food and trying (probably in vain) to keep you from crawling all over the house, mover that you are. Exciting times lay ahead.