Dear Elle ...

Dear Elle,

It is hard to believe that you are six weeks old. The doctor that I saw so frequently for the months leading up to your birth hasn't seen me since you were born - I have a follow-up appointment with him this week. You've started sleeping for longer stretches at night and getting a tiny, teeny bit easier to predict on your nursing habits, but now you're not sleeping as much or as deeply during the day. This makes it much more challenging for your mother to get anything done or to sneak in a nap, but I think you know that. You're starting to really enjoy tummy time, provided you're in the mood for it. You're not pooping as regularly anymore, which is not unheard of, but when you poop, you POOP. Today I was covered in pee and poop in less than three hours, and it was the first blowout you'd had in cloth diapers.

In your six weeks of life, you've been quite social. You go grocery shopping every week and run random errands with me a lot. You've been out to several restaurants, to two airports, to an aquarium, to the park a lot, to a museum and to Mommy's workplace. You were amazingly alert and surprisingly cheerful there - I had feared, after a particularly fussy day the day before, that you would be cranky and make it a very short and unimpressive trip. But you were a rockstar - everyone thought you were the cutest baby ever, and aside from passing a lot of gas and being grumpy while we were in the sports department, you were quite content. You fell in love with a sports columnist (I've decided he's going to be babysitting for us a lot), and really, the sports department will make anyone cranky. It is the place I will be when I'm not with you in a few short weeks when my maternity leave ends, so I can see why you wouldn't like it. You loved the news and features departments, though, smiley and flirting with your stroller during that time, and you were well-behaved when I extended your visit to the fourth floor. The CEO of Mommy's company was quite taken with you, too - you already know how to make a good impression! All in all, the visit went much better than I would have ever hoped - thank you! You even slept on the ride in and back, saving Mommy from a potentially scream-y trip.

Your hair looks like it is growing back on the top and in the front, but since you're on your belly and back more now, you're wearing out parts of the sides of your hair as you move your head from side to side, so you have little bald spots. You've mastered a little trick of flipping a Tigger rattle toward you so that it "kisses" you - I'm still working on getting video of that one. You're really enjoying bath time - you like to keep your hands and feet in the water like you're floating in a pool. You are in love with the front door, the mesh on your Pack-N-Play and the movies and games in the living room. You seem particularly partial to things that are red, too.

Your dad said something the other night that didn't really hit me until the next morning. The entire time I've known him, he's always told me that he "had no use for children until they could talk." Or that he had no interest in kids until they were potty-trained. This is the man who compared our future children to houseplants. And who compared you to an automobile that needed a yearly tune-up.

But he said that he never thought he'd say this, but he doesn't want you to grow up. He likes you a lot at the stage you're at now, where he can talk to you and you just stare, like he's telling you the secret to living forever, or when he can just watch you sleep and see the funny facial expressions you make. Not that you're low maintenance right now, but he doesn't want you to change or get bigger. This is a lot coming from the guy who never seemed to think kids had anything to offer until they were able to string together complete sentences.

I am thoroughly enjoying your growth and development. I am not wishing time away, but I absolutely cannot wait to see what kind of a person you grow in to. I love your smiles and your pouty face, and I love the noises you make in your sleep and the faces you make when you're done eating. But I also dream of how you'll look with pigtails, how you'll act when you are mobile, what your favorite books will be, what you'll be like as a big sister ... I think back to the way your Uncle Doug was when he was little, and he would sing along with certain songs that to this day make me think of him. We'd rock him to sleep as they played on the stereo, and it was the cutest thing to hear his little voice sleepily mispronounce Sarah McLachlan lyrics, or call "Mambo Number 5" Mambo Number Flash when he was in a dancing mood.

I fear time will go faster when I return to work in a few short weeks, but I am grateful that for the most part, you'll be with us and not with a stranger. We're currently looking for sitters who will care for and nurture you like we do - it has been quite a process, but we're working on it, and I'm optimistic about some of the people we've found so far to interview. A lot of people say that I'll appreciate the adult interaction, and returning to work will bring a welcome break to taking care of you, but for a number of reasons, I don't think that will be the case. I'm dreading leaving you, leaving our still-in-progress rituals and trying to add a full-time job in to a world that already feels too hectic. I enjoy the adult interaction I get at our mommy/baby groups - and even though you seem extremely overwhelmed by all of the noise the other babies make, I think you'll enjoy it more over time.

I love hearing your dad talk to you and watching him interact with you, and I love, love, love the fact that he's able to get you to sleep when I cannot. There have been several nights where you're completely dead to the world ... until I put you in the Pack-N-Play, and you're suddenly wide awake again. Your dad always manages to get you back to sleep - and to stay asleep. He amazes me every day with the things he does to make life better for both you and me, and he remains calm when I am at the end of my rope.

We're looking forward to more adventures - both big and small - with you!

Love,
Mom