Dear Oliver,
You’re now 6 months old. Wow. If I think hard enough (and yes, I actually have to put effort into thinking, we’ll get to the why later) I remember feeling like I would be pregnant with you for ever. But here you are being adorable on a daily basis.
You are our Mr. Smiles also our Tadpole, Baby O and to some in this house, Baby Brother. If you can’t tell – you’re kinda liked around here. We like babies. But well you see – we like baby. Singular. Having 2 kids in the house has kicked your father and I in the ass so hard we don’t know which way is up anymore. This is fact.
You still don’t sleep through the night, which I can’t blame you for – you’re still breast feeding and because of that you’re probably experiencing the blood sugar issues that I am still experiencing – also known as hypoglycemia. Yea, I’m sorry about that but we have tried, and then tried some more and then tried again to get you to take formula and you’re just a breast brat.
I’ve had a love and hate relationship with breast feeding this time around. In my ideal fantasy dream life I’d breastfeed you until you decided to wean all by yourself, like your sister did. I was bound and determined to make it to the 6 month mark because I’m dutch and it’s free and super cheap – and quite convenient. Also, I did and do love breast feeding you. But Oliver? Mama needs a break. I honestly believe that if you were not breast feeding you would be sleeping through the night and thus greatly improving the quality of life in this household. But – well, I can’t really start weaning you either because I’m so flipping tired and worn out and giving you the boob is just so much easier. Less work. Less on the ball action and remembering to buy you food or make it or prepare it. I’m ok with being honest here – I’m lazy. Two of you, outnumbering me, has made me a spawn of the laze that is my life.
We’re also trying to teach you how to sign to us – we’ve been signing to you since you could focus on us and pay attention to what we were doing with our hands. You have signed “milk” to us but it’s so much easier for you to scream than it is for you to pump your hand a couple times to let me know what you want. And shaking your head no? Or signing “All done” … that’s totally for suckers in your book, you would much rather spit and gurgle in my face to let me know you’re all done or that no, you do not want anymore peas. Kid, the ammunition I have for when you’re older is unbearable. I have an arsenal chalk full of embarrassing antics, moments and captured memories on film. You will be my slave one day, mark my words.
Oh but how I love you. All of this frustration and fear of never being jeans again that don’t have spit up or sprayed peas all over? That’s nothing compared to the way you smell (and it’s delicious by the way) or to the way you constantly sparkle, smile and laugh. You have to be the happiest baby I’ve ever known personally and you are quite the trooper. I mean, you do live with Jessica. She’s a trip and a half.
When I was still pregnant with you I was so sure that I wanted one more baby. I’ve always wanted three or four kids and for some reason another one didn’t scare me when I was pregnant with you the way it did when I was pregnant with Jessica. I didn’t care about the timing, part of me wanted to just do it already so I could stop the cycle of being pregnant and nursing – but 6 months in to this journey that is two children? I want none of that nonsense. Do Not Ever let me tell you I want more. Ever. You are enough for me. I am happy. I am done.
Don’t read that as “I ruined it for you, mom” because you did not. You sealed the deal. Jessica is amazing, the light of my life – she’s my girl and quite frankly is the firecracker in our lives. You are wonderful, the apple of my eye – you’re my son and a mama’s boy and quite frankly you’re the sparkler to her firecracker in our lives.
We don’t need or want anymore fireworks. You are both enough. You are fulfilling and o-so-tiring and and and. We’re complete. There’s nothing more to it.
But lets set some goals for the next 6 months, you and I, shall we? Oliver- lets start sleeping through the night ok? And somewhere in there, wean yourself. I’ll try to help. Feel free to become mobile. We encourage that kind of thing around here. And go bonkers with the signing. Communication is key.
You’re doing great. I love you to freaking pieces quite honestly. And so does Jessica. And so does Dad. You’re the monkey in the house that everyone wants to play with.
We can do this, Oliver. We’ll make it.
Love,
Mama