12 weeks: December

Dear Patrick,

Since you have come into our lives, our standards for television have become incredibly low. Your father and I will now watch just about anything as we feed your bottle in the middle of the night. Recently, one night alone, I found myself engrossed in an infomercial for "Wen hair-care," which starred Alissa Milano. Not only did I watch the program for an entire hour, but I actually ended up ordering the product. Me - your sensible mother, who barely brushes her hair lately on a good day - found myself purchasing elite shampoo. This is a side of parenthood that no one tells you about.  

The other side of parenthood that no one prepares you for is how quickly you seem to change:

• Now that you can better control the muscles in your face, you’ve developed a distinctive “look” in which you pull your eyebrows down and close together. It wrinkles your forehead and your Omi says its the face of a philosopher or a scientist - a thinker. Or you may simply be Irish and a worry-wart like your mom.
• You’ve started sleeping some 5 - 6 hour stretches at night.  I’m hesitant to even type this - I may have just jinxed us all.
• You've started to notice your toys.  I read that babies your age can distinguish between the faces of real people and stuffed animals and that babies prefer human faces. "Tigger," however, gets the majority of your attention lately and I’m going to try not to be jealous of a Disney character.    
• You love to sleep on your stomach.  Did I mention that we’re related?
• You have begun to mimic our facial expressions.  If we stick our tongue out, you will try to do it too.  And when I pull my mouth into an “O” and hoot at you, you do it back with the tiniest hint of a smile.  It is so darn cute. “Whoooo.”  
• Maritza volunteered to feed you last Friday night (bless her!) so your Dad and I could sleep. It was heaven.  And in case you were wondering, you Uncky Bunky also slept right through.  
• We’ve been concerned about your belly button protrusion now that the doctor has given it the official title of an “umbilical hernia,” which sounds scary but is apparently very common. We learned this month that it will heal on its own by the time you are four years old so we'll be playing Pillsbury dough boy a little longer.    
• Mitch’s new “nom-noms method” of feeding you is propping you up in the boppy and using an extra pillow to hold the bottle. This allows us to do other things like make coffee or change the channel to another infomercial.
• Why does everything come down to poo?    
• Your nursery is basically decorated now.  Your father hung that cool zig-zag shelf that Omi and I found for you at Ikea and we added a lamp from the Hopes and some unique artwork of Coopy, painted by your very own mom!  
• I’ve realized recently that I’ve just started to dream again, which must mean that your father and I are getting a bit more sleep. I love dreams (and telling them to your dad in nauseating detail, which I know he has missed these last few months.)  Welcome back REM state.
• You look exactly like a bulldog puppy.
• Your daycare with Grammy started this month and we are very thankful that Sharon is there with you. (And April on Fridays!)  We may be your parents, but we don’t entirely know what we are doing...yet.  Don’t worry. I plan to have it figured out before you catch on.
• We are taking you to Macon for the first time over Christmas, and Mom and Dad are throwing you a party. They are expecting thousands to arrive and pay homage to "the anointed one."

Love,
Mom

8 weeks: November

Dear Paddycakes,

After you had your bottle yesterday, you sat propped up on my knees and we "talked" together -- me saying things to you in an abnormally high voice and you reacting with an open mouth and some fleeting eye contact.  I'm counting that response as a smile.  You are 8 weeks old now and you tend to smile the most in the mornings, which makes me a bit sad knowing that I will soon miss your tiny, crooked, drooling face when I go back to the office next week.  I'm working through this realization by focusing on my letter to you and appreciating the changes we've seen this month.  You've come a long way, baby! And so have we!

1. Just when we perfected the perfect burp pat, you have begun to do it on your own after feedings.  You still need us, however, to clean the surprise spit-up you save just to make us feel useful.   
2. You have begun to appreciate baths more - at least you tolerate them now.  The trick is to place a second wash cloth on your chest to keep you warm.  It still makes me nervous to bathe you and I have tried to convince your Dad that you don't smell like cheese, but the dried milk you hide under your chins and in the folds of your armpits isn't helping my case. 
3. You wore the blue sweater your Omi knitted for you this month and it fit perfectly.
4. You cry real tears now and its absolutely heartbreaking.  If you asked for a pony and cried, I'd give you one. 
5. Sometimes your father and I let you get upset just to hear your snort.  Its adorable.  But if you get too unhappy you cry real tears and then we're back to ponies.
6. We have battled with your bowels this month and exposed you to prune juice.  I could write a book on the details of your poop, but let's just say that its been war and we think you are winning.  
7. I've started calling you "fat head," which your Grammy doesn't like, but in my defense -- your head is indeed fatter and it should be documented.  Of course, you certainly are THE cutest fat head I've ever seen and I love every inch of those chubby cheeks!
8. You received your two month shots.  I think its incredibly unfair how perfectly pleasant you were at the doctor's office - smiling and cooing at the nurse - and then BAM she got you - twice. And there is a piece of me that is afraid that this is the stuff of Freud and you'll never trust again. 
9. We moved you to your own room. This is definitely the best thing for the all of us. Trust me.
10. You don't give a hoot about your fancy crib mobile.  Apparently flashing lights, music and colorful smiling animals do nothing for you.  Hilarious, given your dad's musical taste and concert-going history.  

And, you aren't the only one with changes this month.  It should be noted that:

1. I managed to read a bit of my book.  This is big!  If given the option to read or sleep - I would always sleep, so things must be progressing...
2. I turned 33 this month.  
3. Your Uncle Sonny asked your soon-to-be Aunt Katie to marry him on her birthday in Miami last week!
4. Your Uncky Bunky changed his first diaper.  Let's hope this becomes a regular trend.
5. We celebrated Thanksgiving in Greenville with just the immediate Byrds and Cullinans, and your Aunt Jen drove all the way from Birmingham without your Uncle Jono just to see you!  (And - yes, to also welcome Katie to the family and possibly to make your mama chicken pot pie!)

I love to watch you with your Dad, Patrick.  He bundles you up and takes you with him to watch football games.  He is convinced that you are a good luck charm.  The Gamecocks won the SEC East this month and will now battle for the SEC championship, so you should not be surprised later in life that you are dressed like a chicken in the majority of our family photos.

I love you, my little chicken.  Happy eight weeks.

Love,
Mom

4 weeks: October

Dear Paddycakes,

They say that parenthood is not something anyone can tell you about; that you must experience it for yourself.

Before you were born, I expected this sentiment to be rooted in the inexplicable awe of new life, but now that you are a month old, I know that it actually comes down to sleep deprivation.  New parents just don't remember. They are zombies, living in a blur of diapers, laundry, burp cloths, bottles, and never-ending three hour cycles where days become nights so often and the time disappears quickly that you find yourself saying to each other, "wow the baby is a month old already - how did that happen?!"

Well, for your father and me, it happened like this: you couldn't wait to be born and joined our family two weeks early.  After a very fast labor through the middle of the night and a long four hour delivery, you were born weighing 6lbs 10oz at 9:57am on Wednesday morning September 29th.  From that day till now, I have learned the following things about you:

1. When you are angry, you hold your breath and turn bright red.  Little red half-moons appear where your eyebrows should be.
2. In the last few weeks you have survived a circumcision and your first shot at the pediatrician.  You have also survived us as these fumbling new parents who put you in clothes that are too big because they are easier to get over your head and diapers that are perhaps too large but they were on sale at Costco. 
3. You have unbelievable neck strength - in fact, you may be super-human.  I don't think regular babies can balance their noggins like you can.  You are very advanced.
4. You  have no idea that your hands are connected to your arms and you regularly hit yourself in the head and then look at me in disbelief like I just did that to you.
5. There is nothing you hate more than getting dressed, a wet wipe, a bath or a diaper change.  And since those things are essential to good hygiene, you spend at least half of your day upset at your father and me.  I like to think that the bottles we provide, the unique songs we create out of your name and the fans on the ceiling - (we put those there just for you!) - make up for any torment.  
6. You love to sleep in the sun, which is like your ambien.  When we put your swing in the beams that fall across the floor in the afternoons, your eyes close immediately.
7. You look exactly like your father.  However you do have crooked pinkies and you can wrinkle your nose and raise the right side of your mouth like Elvis when you dislike something, which you get from me. 
8. I know when you are falling asleep because you smile as you drift away to dreamland.  Your "sleep smiles" are how I know I can stop rocking and safely put you in your bed without you waking up.
9. Your father discovered that you like the weight of the herbal neck pillow draped across you when you sleep.  He also discovered that you eat better sitting straight up.  And since your life IS eating and sleeping - its a darn good thing your smart Dad is here!

It may be a tad indulgent to record your every cry and smile with a blog post, but I want to remember the little things.  I like the idea of capturing a piece of you becoming "you." I may never fully be able to explain what it means to have you in our lives, but at least I will have a few observations to share.

You are already an amazing little person, Patrick, and I love you more than I will ever be able to put into words.

Love,
Mom