Where have the days gone? The newborn look has left and, in its place, a chubby two month old wiggles and coos and stares at his hands with a look that says, "How marvelous that these things are attached to my body."
This month has been heaven and it has been hell. Heaven, for the peaceful days we've had where you are simply you and I forget to worry about a life without your squirmy little body. Hell, for the times when I forget to forget that this is a real possibility. You are bound to my heart. End of story. I just can't say it more simply than that.
You babble all the time. I think this must have something to do with the fact that your daddy talks for a living, your mommy has talked since birth, and your big brother never, ever, shuts up. You're learning young that, in order to get a word in edgewise, you need to hone those verbal skills early. It's the sweetest sound and I can feel my heart melting with each squeak that passes through your lips.
Three nights ago you had a setback in "Operation Getting You to Sleep Through the Night". You were not happy with the smaller amount of food and you pitched a fit. Two nights ago you repeated the night before and shrieked, angrily. I knew you'd never "beat" your brother, who slept through the night at nine weeks. Last night you woke up at 3:45 and let out one cry. I replaced your pacifier. You woke up at 4:15 and let out another cry. Again, I put the paci back in your mouth. I woke up at 7:00. You were still asleep. So, do you think that going over seven hours without being fed constitutes sleeping through the night, even if you did let out a couple of squawks in the early hours of the morning? If so, congratulations, you did it at exactly two months! I suspect that, in ten or twelve years, if I ask your brother he'll say it doesn't count and if I ask you, it certainly would. I have a sneaking suspicion that the two of you may be slightly competitive in some areas. For now, we'll just have to wait and see if you get through another night.
Your brother has taken to calling you Little Buddy and it is the cutest thing. Of course, it prompted your daddy to say, "Where are we? Gilligan's Island?" Honestly, I have no idea where he came up with it. I often refer to you and your brother as Buddy but I can't say that I've ever called either of you little buddy.
I weighed you on my scale this morning and, unofficially, you're about 12 and 1/2 pounds. Oink. Oink. But, other than the occasional stink of dried formula that takes up residence in your neck folds, your rolls are ridiculously edible.
You smile constantly and what I love most about that is how you aren't bothered by any of this battle. You're happy. You're healthy. You're well cared for. You're loved. And that is all that matters to you. Thank you for your smiles. They touch my soul just like your brother's did, even though you didn't grow under my heart but in it.
I love you with every beat of my heart, every muscle and every sinew, everything that I am.