My Mirabel: 3 Months Old

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Dearest Mirabel,

Can you really be three and a half months old?

Get out of town, you cheeky cheek-faced cheek monster! She With the Cheeks That Are Cheeky. Mmm, I'm suddenly craving a nibble.

{Excuse me.}

Oh, that's much better. Deeeeee-lish.


You scrumptious little ball of downy cheekiness, you leapt into my funny bone the other day when you laughed for the first time. It was just a syllable, just a hoarse, single chortle. A chort: "Henh." You were busy smiling away as I jiggled you and sampled the daily flavor of your cheeks (as I recall, it was pistachio), and I think the noise surprised and delighted us both equally. Your eyes got wide, like, what the heck just happened?, and I only succeeded in confusing your further with my own responsive bray.


This emotional display milestone rocks my world. You are a wonderful, happy, peaceful, dreamy, well-fed, well-loved, well-flavored bundle ball just brimming with bliss, and the fact that your smiles come more readily now somehow solidifies your space in my heart as a real person, a grinning infant, my daughter.


Other milestones can wait [Do you hear that, Self?! No rush!] - like, for example, holding up your head. So your head is still a little wobbly, despite hours of tummy time. So what? Why on Earth am I going to push you to be a head-holder-upper right now, when you are the World's Greatest Nuzzler, and your wee furry noggin nestles itself right under my chin when I pick you up? That? That right there? Bliss.


We tried visiting the Ds infant/toddler playgroup again this week, and again I just didn't feel comfortable, or ready. It's so hard to put a finger on the way I feel when we're there. The mamas are all very nice, and I think it's great that the playgroup exists, but it just isn't giving me the kind of encouragement I think I need right now. I realize there is a long and interesting path ahead of us, and that many bumps will come up along the way. But you're three months old, and I just don't want to think about how your teeth will come in, and when I should start signing with you, and how long it will take to get you potty trained. For now, for these sweet and fleeting months, you're a baby. Just a baby, just a little sister, just a diaper-wetting, over-rolling, toy-grasping, foot-flailing, chubby-armed, soft-skinned, up-spitting, long-napping, nighttime-swaddled, daddy-cuddled, stormy-blue-eyed baby, who is learning to suck from a bottle and by Jove will get it down pat, because I'm leaving town next week for two nights, and - no offense - I hope to be going solo.


I love you, Mirabel!

Love,
Mama