dear claire,
happy 2 month birthday, little girl. this month was a rough one. you seemed so sad most of the time, showing us only quick glimpses of gleeful baby. so we finally took you to the dr to find out why. turns out you have acid reflux. i'd be sad too if my throat was on fire. so the dr gave us some medicine (medicine for you - though lord knows we need drugs too) and you are slowly but surely improving. we are still waiting on the edge of our seats for that first smile of yours. i can tell you're thinking about it, you know how to and you want to (you've been secretly laughing at us fools the whole time), but it wouldn't be any fun if you didn't make us work for it. it's a good thing i have practice talking like a total idiot to my cats, otherwise i'd have to hire a drunk clown to get you to smile. there is truly nothing more entertaining than a drunk clown.
happy 2 month birthday, little girl. this month was a rough one. you seemed so sad most of the time, showing us only quick glimpses of gleeful baby. so we finally took you to the dr to find out why. turns out you have acid reflux. i'd be sad too if my throat was on fire. so the dr gave us some medicine (medicine for you - though lord knows we need drugs too) and you are slowly but surely improving. we are still waiting on the edge of our seats for that first smile of yours. i can tell you're thinking about it, you know how to and you want to (you've been secretly laughing at us fools the whole time), but it wouldn't be any fun if you didn't make us work for it. it's a good thing i have practice talking like a total idiot to my cats, otherwise i'd have to hire a drunk clown to get you to smile. there is truly nothing more entertaining than a drunk clown.
while we were falling off the edge of our seats waiting for the first smile, you did supply us with something else: your first real tears. who knew that babies don't cry real tears right away? i didn't. not to embarrass you or anything, but your first real tears weren't of joy, or over spilled milk. they were over crap. yes. crap in your pants = real baby tears. the best part about this is you did it while we were in the car. the bester part was when you got your poop on my finger as i tried maneuvering a quick diaper change on a squirmy screamy teary poopy baby in the back seat. i will never forget the "first tears" experience.
you sucked your thumb for the first time the other day, which was both cute and ridiculous. ridiculous, i say because your thumb is about the size of a match, and it'd probably be more fulfilling if you would just learn to keep the pacifier in your mouth. though i suppose that would take the fun out of pulling over into the emergency lane on the freeway and watching me attempt to crawl in back and retrieve it for you when you are in hysterics because you spit it out. we do have some good times.
during the past few weeks you've begun to hold your head up, bringing you one step closer to being a real person, and one step further away from being a slimy blob. you're still closer on the map to blobville, but at least you look good doing it. and everybody knows that looking good is all that matters. once you've mastered the head holding up trick, i am going to teach you how to fetch mommy a glass of wine, oh the fun we shall have!
this month you've spent lots and lots of time with all your grandparents. a very strange thing happens when you are with them... YOU ARE PERFECT. you eat like a piggy, you sleep like an angel, you toot sunshine and rainbows, and basically make big fat liars out of us. our parents keep telling us we're crazy - we keep threatening to call them at 3am, put you on the phone, and prove we're not. if you keep up this "precious little angel" act at your grandparents' houses, one of two things will happen. one - we will let them keep you, or two - we will kidnap them, stow them away in our attic, and only bring them down when you are yelling and pooping all over the place. so claire, please make the wise decision here.... nobody wants old people in their attic.
in between sleeping, eating and screaming bloody murder you've began to develop a cute little personality. you've just started making eye contact, staring deeply into my eyes, scrunching your nose and pursing your lips as if to say, "i'm not quite sure what the deal is here, but i definitely do not approve." i have a feeling you are going to have a few choice words for us once you learn how to talk. until then - just keep up the cute faces, they make for great pictures and i'm thinking of selling them to people with ugly babies so they can frame them in their office and not get whispered about at the water cooler.
this month you were freed from your jail. when you turned 8 weeks old your doctor approved you leaving the confinements of this house and going whereverthehellyoupleased. you know where you went? the simi valley mall. now before you get all uppiddy on me, dsome people are BORN in simi valley. so don't even start. you did really well on your first outing. let me tell you, we were crowd pleasers. people would walk by and and exclaim, "OH! SO TINY!" and i would promptly reply, "thank you! i'm on diet!" i figure i can accept your compliments as my own for a while. ...at least until you learn to fetch me wine.
love every piece of you, baby
-mama
