To My Cal:
This month I tried to count all your dimples, six on your face, ten knumples (knuckle dimples.) I lost count on your little tooshie, because there's a lot down there. Your squishiness is my pride and joy! I've also been trying to observe and make guesses as to what you're personality will be like as you get older. Your brother Hayes did not drift far from his earliest traits, and I'm sure you won't either.
So far, you are much more. Of everything. You are so so happy, and it is infectious. When you're sad (being hungry or the car seat make you most upset), in a few seconds you sound like those flying dragon things on Lord of the Rings. When you poop it's a blow out, when you spit-up it's like a hose. You burp as loud as an adult, and we love you for your much-iness.
This month you started to laugh! Such an incredible sound, and it was your brother Hayes that set you off. While you were in the tub, Hayes started to splash. Little droplets coated your eyelashes and you let out a deep chuckle. I had been told numerous times by other mothers of closely spaced siblings that you boys would be the best of friends in a matter of months. Watching your friendship develop brings your dad and I so much joy. At the end of each day, we love to recount all the little moments we see between you and Hayes.
Your second month was spent out and about, but our new found freedom outside the walls of this house came to a halt after our car accident. Anxiety about driving came in full force and I found myself with pangs of fear anytime I had to go somewhere. I limited myself to driving only when absolutely necessary, and let your dad take the wheel at any opportunity. Each time you were put in your seat, my happy babbling baby turned into that flying Lord of the Rings Dragon. As soon as we pulled you out, you were fine again. It's safe to say you hate your car seat. Your poor brother is so sensitive to you, the slightest sound of crying and he points to you "Baby! Baby!" waiting for me to help you. When we're in the car and there's not much to be done, Hayes cries right a long with you, he hates to see you sad! The double stroller was crunched together like a soda can, all the wheels breaking off, making it unusable. And with all of that, leaving the walls of our comfortable and safe home lost its appeal to me.
You and I have had to learn about fear and faith this month - and for me especially, to be an example of being faith-filled. I learned again about doing all we can do, and leaving the rest up to God. I've spent time trying to create happier memories in your car seat, walks around the neighborhood with the warm sun on your cheeks seem to help, and hopefully the car seat will feel like a safe place for you again soon. Sometimes all we can do is push the fear out of our hearts and let courage find its way in.
You are our little parrot. You copy what you see, and it is so endearing. If I stick my tongue out, yours comes out too. If sigh "ohhh!" you follow. Whatever sounds I make, you try your best to copy. When I blow bubbles, your bottom lip will soon be coated in spit in your attempt. Your sweet smile brightens my whole day, there's nothing like watching you nurse only to look back up at me with a huge grin.
You have put yourself into a routine this month, and it has made all the difference. Bedtimes come easily again, naps are long and undisturbed, you are content to just be, and I love that about you. There's no doubt about it, being a mother of two is making me hustle! But, I like the mother I have become. More confident than I was, rarely second guessing myself anymore. Even more grateful and enjoying. Calm and collected when I can be, and laughing and sweating when I can't.
You have brought such an immense amount of joy into our home, Cal. Thank you for pushing your way to the front of the line to come to Earth, because one more day without you would have been a day too many.
The world is yours, Cal.