With the turn of your third month, you’ve lost all trace of newborn ness. Gone is that floppy, rawboned body, and in it’s place is plump, red cheeked little baby. You’re growing fat rolls and elastic band writs. You’re no longer able to squeeze into your one month sized clothing. You’re in size S diapers. You did get to the doctor this month to be weighed, but to be honest I can’t quite remember how big you were. But somewhere in the neighbourhood of 5 KG, if I’m not wrong.
Your hair curls after a bath. It’s thinning on the sides, getting rubbed off as you sleep. It sticks up on the top of your head, and Hugo calls it ‘chicken hair.’ Your eyes are still beautiful navy blue, and I’m wondering when I’ll get a hint of their true colour.
You nurse on demand, and because you’re my third baby and I’m confident that you’ll get what you need and also too busy to keep track, I have no idea how frequently you feed. But judging from the fact that you’re growing, I’d say often enough. You do wake up several times per night to drink, and every few hours doing the day. But you take loooooooong daytime naps and often don’t drink for three hours or more.
You still sleep in bed with me. I had such high hopes that you’d be my first child to sleep in the crib. But alas. You like to be snuggled up next to me, warm and cozy against the winter night. You’re nighttime sleep is taking a slight dip backwards. As a newborn you slept so well over night, but now you’re waking every couple of hours. So much so, that Papi ends up on the couch most nights. He says it’s to keep the kids from waking me when they stir in the morning, but considering the fact that he usually sneaks out of our room sometime around midnight, I’m guessing there’s another motivating force at play.
When you do get tired, you hiccup and I know it’s time to put you to bed.
During the day, however, your naps are great. You have been spending the mornings outside with Hugo and our babysitter, bundled up in the basinet. And the moment you meet the cold winter air, you’re out like a light, and you stay asleep for about as long as you’re in that stroller.
You are starting to go to bed slightly earlier, usually sometime around 8 PM. But do you ever howl in the evenings. Poor thing, you seem so uncomfortable, you require constant holding and jiggling and singing to keep you content. We’ve had to hire an evening babysitter to help manage the chaos as I was just not coping with a screamy baby and two very demanding older kids.
You still love to coo at me, propped up in my lap. I talk to you, you smile bashfully, look away, and then come back to coo at me, and we go on like this for good while. During the daytime you’re mostly quite content, but come evening, you do start to shriek and howl.
You’re probably the most contented of my three babies. (Caveat: during the day.) You’re quite happy just to lie on the sheepskin, watching the world around you, or in your bouncy chair as the big kids play next to you. You’ll sit quietly observing for sometimes upwards of 30 minutes, and I thank you for that. In fact, you rarely protest too much about anything unless you are hungry or tired.
You are now able to get your tiny hands near your mouth, and it seems like you are trying your best to be a thumb sucker, though mostly it remains tucked inside your little fist, which causes you no end of frustration.
You now understand that your feet are little appendages entirely under your power. You sit in my lap with your lips pursed into an O of concentration and you move your feet around, kicking me in the tummy.
This time with you as a perfect, tiny, happy baby is a dream. You sleep so well in my arms, and I love to have you cuddled there, nestled against my heart, while I trace the lines of your face with my eyes. I tell anyone who asks what a delight you are, because it is true. You bring me so much delight.