Four months

Dear Carter,

4 months! We are loving this stage and enjoying you so much. Every day you’re a new kid, growing and developing so fast I wish I could bottle up the moments and savor them for much longer. You constantly crack us up with your silly noises, funny faces, and flailing limbs. You’re very particular about your audience, though, preferring to keep it to just your dad and I. Which I suppose is okay, I’m sure before long I’ll be asking you to use an inside voice as you shriek through the aisles of some store (let’s be realistic, it will be Target). Speaking of shrieking, you have got some lungs! Wow. You are my child after all, so you come by it honestly. I’ve actually had to cover my ears a few times. You are a megaphone of fantastic, beautiful squeals of joy.

You babble and laugh and giggle all the time, occasionally throwing in some whining or fussing but mostly just happy noises. I tend to believe you got all of your screaming and fussing out in the first two months of your life and now you’re making up for it by being angelic 95% of the time. You’re also making up for all of your not-sleeping. THANK GOODNESS. Your dad and I were just about to lose it (okay, we already had) when all of the sudden you started sleeping last month and you’ve been going strong ever since. I think your exuberance for life wears you out. You go to sleep at 7, wake up for a midnight snack, and sleep until 6 or so. Believe me, I know how lucky we are and we worked hard to get here. Sometimes I’d really like to keep you up and hang out but you are just ready sleep. Again, just like your mother. When you wake up you are always the happiest baby ever and I just love those moments. You are absolutely elated to see us and fling all your limbs in delight. Stella, however, usually gets a glare. In your defense, I might be a little less than thrilled if a giant beast came crashing though my room to wake me up. We’re going to have to work on your love for animals. You do like music though, and you always smile when I sing to you. Lately we’ve started family band nights, I sing and your dad plays guitar. We’re ready for you on drums when you can figure out how to hold some sticks. I sure hope you get your dad’s rhythm.

You’re a lot like your dad in a few distinct ways. Specifically, your height, weight, and head size. You’re off the charts. You’re outgrowing some of your 9 and 12 month clothes. We’ve got two full boxes of stuff you can’t fit into anymore, and some of them never even touched your skin. You’re longer than my torso, and you’ve doubled your birth weight already. And your feet! None of your socks fit anymore, so I went to buy more. I got the 6-18 month size thinking surely that would last a while. Maybe they’d be a little big, but you’d grown into them, right? Wrong. They were a little small. The tube engulfed your whole calf, but the foot part didn’t quite make it to your heel. I’ve got some massive knots in my neck and back from lugging you around for the past 4 months. By the time you can walk on your own I’ll be strong enough to compete in lumberjack contests.

You love looking at toys and love to eat them even more. You’re ready to grab one in each fist and run down the halls. I keep telling you to slow down, but you’re not interested. There are times when you finally wear yourself out and crash and sometimes when other people are around you’re too mesmerized by all the voices and faces to exert the same level of liveliness. The rest of the time you are rearing to go. I know I’m in for a whole lot of trouble and so, so much chasing. Even when you’re sleeping you don’t really settle down. The other day we found you turned 90 degrees and on the opposite side of your crib, toy flung to the other corner. You have this new trick of scratching the mattress. The first time we heard this odd noise coming across the monitor we really could not figure out what the heck you were doing. We wandered into your room, perplexed, and discovered you laying perfectly still except for your hands. A few nights ago you scratched the mattress for over an hour, from midnight to after 1am, mesmerized. So I call you Scratch Masta C.

When I’m not trying to corral you, I’m wiping off your chin, your hands, and whatever else you can get in your mouth. I’m pretty sure you’re teething, which accounts for almost all of your fussy times. I don’t blame you, it’s a pretty unpleasant process and I wish I could take away all your pain. Your latest nickname is “droolbucket,” for self explanatory reasons. And now that you’re blowing raspberries all the time, I feel like I’m watching Shamu from the splash zone.

We’ve entered the glorious season of fall and we’re spending a good amount of time hanging out at home, bundling up and lighting candles. It’s wonderful to come home and hang out with you. We spend as much time as we can snuggling and playing with you. It’s actually pretty funny, out of all the space in our house we usually end up in the same ten square feet of each other. Usually it’s on the living room floor. We’ll put you on your activity mat and both your dad and I lay down next to you and Stella is never far behind. This is a good life we’re living. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and nothing else I’d rather do. I’m just so blessed to wake up and be your mom every day.

Love,

Mama