When I was three months pregnant with Waylon, I spent 74 dollars on baby scrapbook supplies. As of November 26, 2012, I have three pages finished; one with a few bump shots, the other two filled with a few odd pictures of our babymoon. The box of supplies still resides in the attic. Last time I checked, everything was covered in a thin layer of dust.
I do have this blog, which sloppily documents milestones and inches. I’m not worried about it. Long ago I realized I’m not one of those people who keeps baby books or scrapbooks. I want to be, but I’m not. Kudos to the organized. I’m sure you also have a clean kitchen sink.
For lack of a better place to write it all down, this:
Height: 31.5 inches (48th %)
Weight: 21 pounds (7th %)
Hey big guy. We cut your hair last week. I don’t know exactly why we did it. I think it was a combination of too many knots and the reality that you had a mullet. Regardless, I miss your baby wisps. You look like a big kid now.
Some of your recent favorites: singing, coloring, feeding your stuffed animals, taking walks without the stroller, fig newtons. If I were a robot, you’d program me to read to you all day, but that’s nothing new. You’ve loved books since your eyes could focus on a page. Full disclosure, I am so, so tired of Richard Scary’s Color Book and The Very Busy Spider, but we persevere.
You are still breastfeeding. Does that gross you out? I’m picturing you reading this when you’re 17 and you’re probably grossed out. Whatever. You love it, and would do it all day long if I let you. Instead we snuggle and nurse only before naptime, bedtime, and in the early morning when the sun is still low and I’m very, very sleepy. Thanks for sleeping in with me after that morning nurse. We both need it.
Lately you’ve been driving me nuts with a lot of shrieking and dramatics when you don’t get your way. If only you could tell me what you want instead of grunting and expecting telepathy. What a miracle that would be.
I patiently await speech.