Baz // 2 Months

Dear Baz,

You are now 67 days old. For the record, I did write a post when you were about a month old but somehow the draft did not save and for that I am extremely sad. This won’t be the first time I fail to do something I had every intention of doing. I’m trying to remember most of the thoughts I wrote down for you, but some of them are probably gone for good. Lost in the recesses of my post-pregnancy/new mom brain.

The time is flying by little guy. The days seem to slip through my fingers as they pass all to quickly. I’m embracing this as a time when you’re pretty portable and it’s still relatively easy for me to take a shower and even use the bathroom alone most of the time. Your dad and I have thrown caution to the wind and taken you to a few restaurants, and you’ve surprisingly allowed us to enjoy some delicious, peaceful meals.

A few weeks ago you started coming with me into the office and everyone there seems to by relieved by how quiet you are. It’s been relatively easy having you with me as I transition back into the work force. I may not be quite as productive as I used to be, but I love having you by my side during the day. Even if you enjoy pooping during conference calls.

You weighed in at 12 lbs 4 oz at your 2 month doctors visit. 75th percentile for weight and 90th percentile for length at 24 inches long. Since we caught that you were tongue tied when you were just a few days old, you haven’t had any other problems nursing. When you are full you flash an enormous grin of content, sometimes followed by a burp that would rival that of a grown man.

On my days off I stare at you for hours marveling at  your many faces and more recently your plethora of coos. We can now have “conversations” which are often punctuated by smiles that bring light to my heart. You are, for the most part, a happy baby. We play on your mat and go for lots of walks. In the evenings you’re often content to hang out in your bouncy seat watching me cook dinner (perhaps you will be my little chef?).

When you do get upset- and oh boy can you wail- the guttural sound you make brings to mind a miniature wookie.  I can typically comfort you by dancing around the apartment. Sometimes a light waltz, other times you prefer some Bowie. You also enjoyed your Aunt Teenie’s rendition of Beyonce’s Single Ladies. I’ll keep dancing with you little man, as long as you’ll let me.

Love,

Mama

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