4 months

Posted by on Jun 11, 2012 in Mothering | 1 comment

Dear Greer – Today we went to see our favorite doctor in this city. She is nothing but awesome and one day you’ll understand this too. In the meantime, you will continue to smile and talk to her the way you do for just about everybody. Over the weekend, your big sister threw up in my bed and your big brother was still taking meds for an eye infection that invaded his eye holes the first part of last month. Somehow both of these issues haven’t effected your tiny body. If I hadn’t pushed you out of my own nether regions and immediately memorized every soft curve of your face, the sounds you make when you need me and the exact color of your eyes, I’d probably assume that you’d been switched. Let’s just say that the older people in this house caught every single bug and virus and bacteria whenever it was presented to them. Of course, today I saw your sister lick a drawer pull in the bathroom, so I recognize that they may have been bringing some of this on themselves.

Where were we? Oh yes, you are healthy. Your weight, which used to be a common topic around here, has dropped to the 70th percentile, which means you are 14lbs 8oz. Nice. Your head matches your weight, so I suppose your brainz haven’t been zombied (that and all of the amazing things you are doing: grabbing stuff and putting it in your mouth, rolling over, scooting on your knees and face, stealing my heart). But let’s just have a tiny chat about your height. Trust me when I tell you that you are going to be taller than me, you and everyone else in this house the world. However, you are attempting to surpass me with greater speed and tenacity. You’re in the 95th percentile for height. Good work, hungry girl. Mama’s proud. Let’s go watch some volleyball demonstrations on youtube. We’ll have to do that right after we convince Piper to stop watching videos about the Pledge of Allegiance. I don’t know why she’s fascinated by it either, but her version is quite remarkable.

When we came home from the doctor, you took a gigantic afternoon nap. I wanted to join you, not in the crib, where you moved from the pack-n-play this past weekend, but just in slumber. I spent last night jumping up out of bed at every tiny sound convinced that someone was puking somewhere, probably on something white or at least fluffy. None of that was happening, but I checked on all of you and found similar little chests rising and falling in quiet rest. You are all so lovely and so individual. I can’t help but want to snuggle you, unless you’re evacuating your stomach, and then I can wait.

This evening you watched the leaves under the tree in our front yard and giggled at your brother playing football with your dad and sister. You have a special love for him and he for you. I hope that it endures.

You’re sleeping soundly now in the pink room with bright pink curtains, alone, peaceful and well.

Sleep tight, baby girl. Mama loves you.

One Comment

  1. My favoriate line: “I can’t help but want to snuggle you, unless you’re evacuating your stomach, and then I can wait.”

    Also…Yay Greer for sleeping by herself! And a BIG yay for mom and dad on that note too!

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