Dear Ikey,

Today you are two and a half. Yikes! You’re hilarious and maddening, changing back and forth between the two minute by minute.


You love Spider-Man. I still somewhat regret letting you see the cartoon (a leeeeeeeetle violent but you insist it’s not scary), but it is your FAVORITE and so you spend most of your upright hours running and sliding (a la Risky Business) and crashing and repeating, because SPIDER MAN FALLS DOWN AND HE STANDS BACK UP!

You do not like long sleeves, which is unfortunate given that it’s now December. In Ohio. But I love the way you constantly push them up past your elbows, like you are forever about to begin a dirty job.

You don’t seem to have much interest in potty training for real, but you’ll sit on your little potty most of the time when asked, and even occasionally have some success – though you get so excited after a drop or two that you have to stand up and inspect it and tell me what shape it’s made in the bowl (spoiler, usually an oval). Thing I never thought I’d be saying so often: YAY, NOW TRY AGAIN TO GET ALLLLLLLL YOUR PEE OUT THIS TIME. For a while I think your local grandparents were pushing it a bit much for your comfort level, probably something along the lines of “babies wear diapers,” so every time I called you or asked if you’re a Big Boy, you said NO. JUST A WITTLE BABY. Lately you seem a bit more comfortable with that designation. You’re done nursing. Last time you asked was Thanksgiving night, after a long, long, fun but napless day at Aunt Susie & Uncle Chris’s house. Wasn’t much worth it at that point, for which I’m a little sorry, but the gradual way you weaned was just about perfect. I’m somewhat sad to no longer have you as a nursling, allowing me to think of you more as a baby than a little boy, but you’ve come around to allowing and even asking for more hugs, and if you’re really ready for comfort I can rock you back and forth like a slow dance. Getting to snuggle you this way is just about my favorite thing in the world right now. I hope you won’t grow tired of it anytime soon.

You don’t seem to have a strong recollection from last year of what Christmas festivities are all about, but you’re looking forward to it in a general sort of just-learned-this-word way, and love to see the BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS LIGHTS and the BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS TREES. I’m sure the sight of wrapped gifts will ring a bell from your birthday, and I can’t wait to see you tear into the few things we’ve got for you. It’ll be another chance for you to practice the manners I’ve been trying to drill into your vocabulary. You do pretty well with Please, though sometimes Thank you and You’re welcome make amusing switches. For a long time after every burp or fart I heard I’d ask what that was, prompting you to say Excuse me. Now if I don’t actually hear it happen, you are quick to grin and ask WHAT WAS THAT?!?!

You assign phrases to certain people. One time I called you Punkin, and you quickly corrected me: NO. DADDY CALLS ME THAT. When I asked what Mama calls you, you were equally quick with SUGAR. Only Uncle Chris is allowed to ask about PAAAYYAAAAMAS! And only Grandpa can say Sorry, Charlie. You’re so funny. We love you so much.



Things. Wait. Nope, just a thing.

It’s been embarrassingly long since I wrote anything here other than the monthly letters to Ike. Not cool.  I must appear to have forgotten why I ever started this blog to begin with.  Not true, but if stereotypical mama-loves-baby blurbs are all that ever show up, I can’t see how I can expect anyone to believe otherwise.  I won’t make excuses, but I hope I can get into a better habit of doing brain dumps here, if nothing else.  

Things I’ve thought about writing about, but haven’t:

  • Let’s just start with the TMI, if there is such a thing.  My period came back.  A while ago.  The end of May, I believe?  I did make a point to note it on my phone calendar, so…nope, guess I dreamed that.  Fairly normal, other than the next one following three weeks later rather than four.  Then what I thought was a third followed only two and a half weeks after the second, but really I just had spotting for five or so days.  Very not normal for me, and way too reminiscent of the beginning of my…third? yes, third miscarriage.  So uncomfortably reminiscent that I bought a pack of peesticks.  Then I thought, how fucked up is it that my first thought is not ‘I wonder if I’m pregnant,’ but instead ‘I wonder if I’m having a miscarriage’.  Seems kinda fucked up to me, but what the hell do I know.  I admit I hoped to see a second line, even a squinter.  I squinted.  Repeatedly.  The next morning, too.  Definitively negative.  There is still one more test under the sink, but I am trying to refrain from thinking about how much I weirdly kind of like peeing on sticks.  Not that even the positive ones ever meant much in the way of outcome, statistically for me at least. I don’t know where I’m going with this, exactly.  We are definitely not trying right now, but then again, I have presented at least one narrative in the past that could possibly indicate that I don’t know how birth control works.  I do know how it works.  I swear.  Sometimes it just doesn’t work, and I thought this was another one of those times, but it appears not.  I never have mid-cycle bleeding, but there is no use wondering if that could have been a chemical pregnancy.  So what if it was?  Well, it does sort of make me want to buy a drugstore cheapie OPK to try and determine if/when I am ovulating.  You know, for science.
  • I would could should bang out another few bullet points, but I think instead I shall opt for a shower while I have the chance.  Must come back for more, and soon.

One Year

Dear Baby Ike,

Last week you turned one. One! A whole year has passed since I spent seventeen hours in labor on Father’s Day and then, finally, in the wee hours of the next morning, you were scooped up out of the water and placed into my arms for the first time. I look back at photos from that day and am still so thankful for and amazed at your safe arrival.

You are moving quickly away from babyhood toward toddlerhood. You can take a few steps on your own, though you still prefer to hold onto someone’s fingers for support so you can cover much more distance. You are still experimenting with all kinds of sounds verbally, stringing together your babble in ways that sound remarkably like actual conversation. Everything is a doggie, which still sounds more like “doggin” for now.

All of your grandparents and aunts and uncles were able to come to your birthday party, which we had on Father’s Day, and was wonderful. It wasn’t fancy or themed or at all elaborate, but it was full of love, which I hope is how you will also someday remember your childhood. You received many gifts of toys and cute clothing, for which I do plan to write thank you notes on your behalf. Hopefully I will have you do the same in a few years, carrying on a habit that my parents developed for me (I don’t claim to be 100% consistent, but I try!).

Somewhat sadly, yet hilariously, you were far from enthused with your first birthday (strawberry cream) cake. It may have just been that by that time if the afternoon you were past due for your second nap, but you wanted nothing to do with it, and were quite offended at our trying to get you to taste it. I had to go to the viewing for your aunt’s father-in-law the next afternoon, and while I was gone your dad and paternal grandparents gave you a second opportunity with a chocolate cupcake. You were highly suspicious, especially after touching the hot wax from the candle (Daddy felt awful for not getting it out of your reach quickly enough), but then Grandma had the brilliant idea to stick a few Cheerios in the frosting. This eventually enticed you to dig in, as Cheerios remain one of your most favorite things, and the resulting chocolate baby-beard exceeded all my hopes for messy cake-face birthday photos.

I am writing this from the road, as I had to go out if town for work for four nights this week, and I have missed you fiercely since the second we pulled out of the driveway. I know your father has taken great care of you, but I am so anxious to get home and at least see you. You will probably be asleep when I get there, so I will stop myself from waking you up to squeeze and snuggle you, but it won’t be easy for me to wait until you wake up to refill on Ike cuddles.

We’ve come a long way, Baby Ike. I admit to not really being ready to see you leave your babyhood behind, but I know that for every single thing I will miss about the tiny you, I will fall in love anew with multiple toddler things as you hurtle toward being a big kid. I’m sure we’ll have our share of frustrations and tantrums, but I promise to love you more than you could think would be possible, through all of it. Happy belated birthday, honey. May your second year be even sweeter than your first.


Eight Months

Dear Baby Ike,

Today you are eight months old. It probably doesn’t help that I posted my last monthly letter to you a little late, but I’m a little astounded as to how another month has already passed. Time continues to fly by, and we are definitely having lots of fun.

You had another visit with the hepatologist late last month, so we got an update on your height and weight. You were eighteen pounds and five ounces, and 26 inches long. Getting so big! Just like you’re supposed to do. Growing like a little weed, as Grandma always says.

You are still doing lots of rolling – both directions now, and scooting all around in circles, but no actual crawling yet. I am in no hurry for that to start, but I think you are getting close. We’ve added pears and apples to your foods list, both of which are hits, especially the apples. Green beans are most definitely NOT a favorite, but apparently they do make bananas more acceptable in comparison. Grandma also gives you some Cheerios most weekdays, and you do manage to get some to your mouth all on your own. You do like the activity of eating, even if you don’t love many actual foods themselves yet. Some of the faces you make are so funny. You do this big dramatic shudder if you don’t like the new taste, almost as if we gave you a shot o’ whiskey or something. Cracks me up every time.

You continue to make lots of funny babbling sounds, the latest of which is the blowing raspberries sound, bbbbbbbbb. Sometimes you do it super loudly, and sometimes I have to laugh at just how quietly you can make that motorboat noise. Daddy says that it sounds like George Jetson’s spaceship. Someday soon we’ll show you what that is all about. It’s not something you’re likely to ever see on TV, but luckily the Internet makes all kinds of wonderful and ridiculous things possible.

It’s been another fun month with you, Isaac. I can hardly believe that we are getting so close to your first birthday. It will be here before I can imagine, but I will keep trying to soak up as many small moments with you as possible in the meantime.

Love always,