scrawls.

scrawls

still cheaper than therapy*

20.12.07

eleven weeks

Over the weekend, starting Friday, we transitioned you relatively painlessly to your crib, in your own room, as you were starting to outgrow the Moses basket, stacked as it was on two chairs at the side of the bed. I say relatively painlessly, because one hears stories about what happens when you mess with sleep, about changes. And you were fine: you don't like going to sleep, no, and we sing and nurse and walk and rock and turn off all the lights and surreptitiously check the eye status in the mirror. Are they shut, half open, fluttering, big and shiny? Opening lids, up and down on the angle, like the dolls i'm sure you'll acquire? Singing, whispering the low notes, softer and quiet, over and over, the same two or three verses until they lose all meaning. But you're just the cuddliest, sweetest, prettiest sack of potatoes ever. Once you are asleep, on a normal day, you sleep right on through until around six.

Except you have been hitting the growth spurts early, and we are heading into the big twelve week one. It's almost legendary. So last night you woke up at four, and drained momma, and slept again. I know when you're in a growth spurt not only because you're eating more often, but because i can't get anything out with the pump. And they say babies grow best while they're sleeping - which kind of might make sense in your case, as you spent most of yesterday passed out, and are now crashed out over one arm. Makes typing hard. But we had to move you to the crib before the growth spurt, because then you really wouldn't have fit in the basket.

Of course, you not being in the Moses basket any more gave us a perfect empty spot to pile all the things you've already grown out of, except that they don't all fit. I think it's the socks. You have Momma's big feet.

Very soon it will be your first Christmas. But you don't know any better yet, so we're not really doing anything in particular. We've been to the Christkindlmarkts, we got some of the little white cookies - they make them with hazelnuts here, not almonds, not walnuts. Far from Mexico, i guess, but the same cookies, everywhere. And you're far too small for your own laptop, but i still want to get you one of these. (M keeps saying we need a new computer.) We could get you one and donate three or four - i haven't found a local food bank, here, though i'm sure there is one, and it's Christmas and doesn't that mean you're supposed to find somebody less fortunate and help out? Oooh, that's what i want for christmas: a water buffalo. Ducks. Bunny rabbits. A llama! Ducks go quack. Bunny rabbits say woffle woffle with their little rabbit noses. A llama is like a funny bumpy goat with long fuzzy hair that lives in South America. Llamas say om om om: very appropriate.

Labels: baby, mamadom, milestones

scrawled @ 13:40