Sincere Flattery - and a letter to Zach

I hate to imitate given that I prefer to be creative and unique on my own. But in this case I simple can't resist ripping off Dooce and writing a monthly letter to my son. First of all it's a great idea, and secondly it's the best way I know how to keep track of all these wonderful moments and memories that Zach and I are creating daily.

So here goes...

Dear Zach,
Today you turn 1 month old and weigh 11lbs even...
And as though you remembered how hard it was for me one month ago today giving birth to you, you gave me a break this morning and woke up quietly and sweetly and as I roused to the sound of your little critter-sounding noises I thought about how I am one lucky Mama.
This month has been a very busy one for you, and one full of transition for me.
For me, becoming a full-time stay at home mom to you has pretty much met my expectations. It has it's moments of when I'm trying to figure out how on earth I'm going to brush my teeth, or when I'm trying to decide just how miserable we'll be if we go without coffee for a couple more days and then you surprise me (and hell, I surprise myself) and we somehow manage to not only practice good oral hygiene but also go to the store. And it’s those moments that I am full of pride in both of us because as trivial as these activities may have been before you came along, I now realize just how complicated they can be when you have a little companion in need of your constant love and attention.
But overall the transition has been an easy one I was apparently ready for - and thank god for that.
You are without a doubt the most entertaining science experiment your father and I have ever attempted.
Hell, we're still shocked that we managed to conceive a baby. So imagine our surprise just about every day when we look at you, with all your perfect fingers and toes, with your little innie belly button, with your dark head of sweet smelling baby hair - we just simply feel astounded most of the time that we managed to produce something so wonderful out of virtually thin air.
And I can't believe I just used the word 'hell' in a letter to my infant son.
Anyway.
In just one month you've managed to surprise us further, as if creating you wasn't enough of a shocker.
It seems as though every day you become just a little more playful. You have a whole collection of noises that I've learned to identify with different emotions and needs. And they continue to bring a smile to my face each and every time - like the ridiculous new parent that I am. You've also been working on your smile most recently. It still seems like a fluke facial reaction that you don't quite have control over, but it's there and every once in a while we're surprised with a glimpse of what your little face will look like lit up with a smile. We're looking forward to the coming month or so when you'll actually learn to make that smile pop up at will. And you certainly are entertained when I smile at you with my big sappy mothering grins.
I'm happy to report that you love to take baths. Your first couple of weeks home you could have done without the terrible technicality of having to get clean periodically. We'd sponge you off, gradually moving on to dipping you into a little wash basin after your umbilical stump fell off - and you hated it. You'd cry that alarming cry of yours that we've come to learn is your 'I'm being serious you assholes' cry. By week three I thought you were big enough to break out the fancy baby tub, complete with infant sling, to bathe you in. I had a grand idea that perhaps you would feel more comfortable in this than slipping and sliding in our hands. I made the big mistake of trusting one of those fancy rubber ducky temperature thingies - the kind that has a big "HOT" sign that glows if the water is too warm. I took it a little too literally, and when it said "hot" I assumed (like the trusting consumer that I am) that the water was too hot and I added more cold water. You cried through that entire bath - much like your previous baths - and I assumed you just still weren't digging the baths yet. That is, until your father came and stuck his hand in the water and pointed out that I wouldn't enjoy taking a bath in that water either. Since then I've put your dad in charge of filling your tub with water, and coincidentally you've started to love your baths. In fact I love your baths as well. There's nothing greater than watching you kick and make 'cooing' noises and I could just eat you up each and every bath time. And your dad has not hesitated in giving me shit for the water temperature mishap once, so we all win.
And thank god for your bouncy seat, for without which I would not get showers, eat more than an apple for lunch, and we would have no clean clothes. You love that little seat and can waste 30 minutes kicking and making delighted sounded noises as you learn that when you kick you then bounce. More recently I sometimes catch you looking at the little grasshopper toy that dangles in your field of vision. Or dragonfly. Or whatever kind of generic insect it is. And we sometimes talk about how is unidentifiable and how it's a good thing your mother didn't go into Entomology because not only would that be a really boring profession, but I would be no good at it.
Of course your first month in this world has had a few bumps. About two weeks ago you started suffering from gas which doesn't look like any fun from our perspective. You power through it like a real trooper though; you've always been so mellow and calm. But I hate seeing you squirm and cry when it's really bothersome. And now it seems like you're getting used to it, or maybe the pain isn't as bad. Which to a new mom is a real relief considering that every day I hope it doesn't get worse and turn into the dreaded colic. And I don't discount the fact that you could develop colic at some point still, and I cross all my fingers and toes that you don't.
And then there was the moment a few days ago when I knocked a canister of tennis balls on your head. You kind of didn’t care for that all that much either.
Forgive me my little peanut – we’re new parents and still learning the ropes.
And apparently I am still learning about gravity.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama