Dear Nora,
You know how they say parenting is a roller-coaster ride? Yeah, it is. With barf and everything.
This month the high point of that roller coaster has undoubtedly been your newfound ability to smile. It doesn't matter how much you've been crying all day or how little sleep we've been able to get or how many diapers we've changed after we JUST put a new one on you. One tiny smile makes our hearts all melty and, as cliched as it sounds, makes everything worth it.
Maybe this is reading too much into it, but I can't help but think we're starting to get a glimpse into your sense of humor. You smile a little when we coo over you, or when we first wake you up from a long nap. But what really brings on the grins is when we make jokes about you, and how much you seem to hate us sometimes, and how when you ride in your stroller you ball up your fists and glare like you're going to punch the next person who comes close. You also seem to like it when mom and dad make mean jokes at each other's expense. Where you get this sick sense of humor, I surely can't say.
You've been introduced to the bottle this month, mainly because you've developed a habit of screaming in white-hot fury instead of eating when it's time to breastfeed. This was immensely frustrating and scary, but it seems we've started to figure out the problem -- not enough milk, not fast enough. So the bottle fills in the gaps while Mommy works on fixing that. Which she's been advised to do by eating more calories. So the milkshake and Big Mac diet begins this month, Nora, and Mommy is suddenly seeing this problem as not such a bad thing at all.
Other highlights this month included a good report after a checkup with your neurologist, meeting your Uncle Nick while he was home from Iraq and going to the Farmers Market restaurant (your first sit-down meal in public!) with your Aunt Liz, Uncle Josh and cousin Johnny D. I saw you eyeballing my head-sized ham biscuit, which I ate in about 20 seconds, thanks to my training in inhaling food to get a meal in between your fusses. One day you'll be big enough for your own ham biscuit, but until then, keep your mitts off mine. Cute smiles or no, mama ain't giving up her ham biscuit for anyone.
Love,
Mama and Daddy