Friday, September 12, 2008

20 Weeks

Dear Norah!

You are 20 weeks old! 5 months! That’s crazy! I am going to continue punctuating my sentences with exclamation points because that is how you live your life! In the imperative! When you say something, you mean it! When you want something, you want it now! When you talk, people listen!

I’m not joking, kid. You are serious about the things you say, and I imagine if there were a transcription of everything you said, it would look like this: Blee! Blah Blah! Oooh! Aaaack! SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK! SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! Today you were shrieking in church and afterward everyone was like, “Oh! We need to get that girl a microphone! She wants to sing!” And I was like, “No, you don’t understand. She was just warming up the vocal chords. When Norah is really ready to sing, Norah does not need a microphone. Rather, we all need earmuffs to protect our puny human hearing from her superhuman death shrieks.”

You are a little older now, Norah, and you are more like my little companion rather than my little parasite. I liked it when you were my little parasite, but I like it even more now that you are my little companion. In the mornings, when you make it clear that you are ready to get up I always try to convince you that we can stay in bed a little longer. I try rubbing your tummy and holding your hands and squishing your cheeks, but you just giggle. And eventually I give in and I roll out of bed. Then we go into the living room and I change you diaper and then we go around the house to do the morning things together, like opening the curtains and feeding the cats and making the coffee. I talk to you while we do these things, explaining what we are doing, and you talk back and you always try to grab things out of my hands and put them in your mouth. But I’m telling you Norah, you really don’t want to put used coffee grounds in your mouth.

One day last week I was having a really awful day. I was frustrated with the whole world and every single person in it. We came home and you were lying on the floor while I looked something up on the computer. You were looking at the ceiling fan and blowing the spittiest raspberries in the history of raspberry blowing and it was just so hilarious and cute I could not be mad anymore. All my anger, blown away in one spit bubble. Thanks for that Norah.

Then on another day we were sitting on the couch reading and you weren’t wearing any clothes. We finished the book and you took it out of my hands and starting chewing on it. I found that awfully funny because sometimes all I want to do is sit on the couch in my underwear and enjoy a good book. Whatever, I’m just glad you like books even if you do eat them instead of read them.

Remember last month when I told you we were going to ride on a plane and I was trying to get you to sit in my lap for long periods of time? Well. We had to take two plane rides to get to Roswell, and you were the most incredible baby in the whole world on those two flights. You ate well and played well and then you fell asleep in my lap with no fuss at all (which, I might add, was the first time you have ever done that in your life). And then in Roswell you cried a lot and didn’t sleep well. I don’t know what your deal was because I had a great time in Roswell. But we got to see our family and they all love you.

When we were coming back home from Roswell we almost missed our plane. In fact, you and I and your Aunt Sara were the last ones to get on the plane. It was an early flight so I imagine many people were trying to sleep, but you chose this to be the flight that you screamed through. Yep, you screamed nearly the entire hour and six minutes. The only time you didn’t scream was when you were eating, so once you fell asleep that way I just left you, even though my arm was hurting and you kept kicking your Aunt Sara. You weren’t crying anymore, but Aunt Sara and I were being a little silly (as we often are) and were probably just as loud as you were. I’m pretty sure that every person on the flight hated me, Norah. But it’s cool, we’ll never ever see those people again.

Speaking of Aunt Sara, she is awesome. I’ve been thinking back to when Sara and I were little and all the fun we had. Growing up sharing a room with your best friend is fantastic. We got into loads of trouble and I’m sure caused more than a few grays hairs to grow on your G-Ma and Grandpa’s heads, but Norah, it was the best. Sara and I had our rough times and we fought, but it was so worth it. I want you to have that, even if it means your dad and I go prematurely gray. I want you to have a best friend for life like I do.

You rolled from your back to your belly for the first time this month, and you had your first experience with baby cereal. You don’t love your cereal yet, but I don’t blame you. It tastes awful. You talk all the time and you love to snuggle with soft toys and blankets. By snuggle, of course, I mean you love to put them over your face and chew on them. Sometimes I go into your room and find you asleep with your blanket either covering your face or in your mouth. You also prefer to sleep sideways in your bed, so your feet and head are both butting up against the bumpers. You are a little weirdo. You think standing is the coolest thing in the world, but I am telling you now, sit down while you can because one day you will probably have a baby who is happiest when you are carrying her around the whole world and you will think to yourself “Oh, how I wish I could just sit down for a few minutes.”

Little girl, you are such a joy. I love you so much it feels like I should be crushed under the weight of all that love.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

she is a mini-sadie!