Thursday, October 22, 2009

Month 8

Dear Corbin,

You are eight months old today. To celebrate, we took you to the clinic and got your first flu shot. It's actually kind of a frightening flu season for parents this year, since the H1N1 virus seems to hit children and pregnant mothers so hard. It makes me glad that you're not in school yet.

This month started off with another Barker-side-of-the-family wedding. My cousin Brian got married in Lower MI, and instead of driving through Chicago to get there, we took the ferry across Lake Michigan from Milwaukee. It made for a much nicer trip, since you had several hours out of your car seat. At the wedding reception, we sat with my Uncle Mark's family. His daughter-in-law and I were trying to figure out what relation you were to her son. It turns out that Wyatt Barker is your second cousin, but he's my first cousin, once removed. Second cousins share great-grandparents, so any of my cousins' children are your second cousins. First cousins, once removed are of different generations. Got it?

Your father and Grandpa Lam spent two cold days putting a new railing on the mudroom roof, which may have been how Grandpa Lam ended up in the ER with pneumonia last weekend. You got to visit a hospital for the first time since you were born, which didn't seem to impress you very much. You now have my permission to avoid ERs for a very long time, thank you.

Your father also built another pair of speakers, which are meant to be the party speakers. They'll get their trial run this weekend at his birthday party, but you'll miss it since you'll be spending your first night away from us. I should say you'll be spending your first night away from me, since your dad didn't go to MI with us. I'm pretty sure that you'll be okay away from me, but I don't know if I'll be okay away from you. It has been a surprise to me how much I miss feeding you at night, just because that was my time to cuddle with you. Although, that might just be the sleep deprivation talking. The past couple of nights you've slept through from 8pm to 5:30 or 6am, but I still wake up two or three times, wondering how you're doing. My newest effort in your sleep training has been to set your alarm clock for 6am, so that your little biological clock can start to have a more consistent wake up time. Of course, pretty soon we'll hit daylight savings time or you'll start really teething and then everything will get crazy again.

You are entirely proficient now at pulling yourself up to standing, and you've even gotten better at being able to sit down again. You have started crawling over to us and using our legs to pull up, which is endearing until I can't move to keep doing whatever it was I was doing. You also like to hold our hands and walk around, which has made me realize that it really isn't going to be long before you're walking on your own. It'll probably be right around the time that everything here gets icy. We might as well buy you skates instead of shoes. Speaking of winter, I went on an outdoor gear gathering kick and you now have two snowsuits, four hats, and about a hundred pairs of mittens. Not to mention the bunches of sweaters and hoodies that you have. And the dozen fleece pajamas. And the several pairs of slippers. And the space heater in your room. Basically, if you're ever cold, it's because we're in another ice age and we just haven't killed a mammoth yet.

Buying you clothing is something I have always enjoyed, even before you were born. I used to feel like it was one of the only ways that we could really be prepared for you, because even though we couldn't prepare for who you are as a person, we could certainly prepare a wardrobe for you. These days, I feel like it's the only way I really need to spend money on you. You're pretty well stocked with toys, and if you really need something new, well, there's always some other kitchen utensil that you haven't played with yet.

This month we made you pumpkin, zucchini, cauliflower, and cantaloupe, and you like all of them okay. We also tried a blend of avacado and banana, and you love that almost more than you love applesauce, which is saying a lot. I'm glad that we were able to start you on solids during the summer--I've been trying hard to make sure you eat as wide of a variety of food as possible, and it's been helpful that so many different foods were in season. It makes me feel like less of an over-privileged American when I can at least follow the farm calendar a little bit.

Overall, it hasn't been a very exciting or momentous month, except maybe in my head. I think that I've done a pretty good job of so far of not being terribly sappy, but this month there's just no avoiding it. I just can't help but say that I love you more every day. Every morning when I pick you up out of your crib, I feel so lucky to be able to hold you and watch your little face scrunch up when I turn the light on. And every afternoon when I come home from work, and you give me a big smile, I feel like there is no place else I would ever rather be. Being your mom can be busy, tiring, frustrating and stinky (for both of us), and it also makes me very, very happy.

Love,
Mom