Category Archives: Dear Amélie

Four Months: On My Back

Dear Amélie,

Sometimes I wonder if you’ll look back at pictures of your infancy and think your mother is weird. Are you going to look at them and say, “Wow. My mom was a dirty hippie.”

Or…are the things I’m doing now going to be the norm when you are a mom yourself? I hope that’s true. I hope it’s not going to be weird to cloth diaper your kids and breastfeed them until they are ready to wean themselves and wear them as much as they want to be worn – even on your back!

You should know, that I didn’t expect to be this mom. When I was pregnant with your sister, I only had a vague idea of what I wanted to be like and, for the most part, I failed. With you. Well, with you, I knew what I was getting myself into. So, I toss you over my shoulder and walk around the zoo in 100 degree heat, you sleeping happily against my neck.

I hope you don’t think I’m weird.

Love you always,

Your (dirty hippie) mother

Vital Stats:

  • Likes: Chewing on Sophie (and your dinosaur and your hands and whatever else you can get a hold of), snuggling before bedtime
  • Dislikes: Bedtime
  • New Skills: Rolling over (back to belly), scooting yourself around in a circle
  • Weight: 14 pounds, 1 ounce
  • Height/Length: 25 inches
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3 Months (and 4 Days)

Dear Amélie,

My favorite time of day is the early morning (usually around 5 am). Not because I want to be awake – because I don’t – but because that is when you are often waking up for the first time. The sun is thinking about coming up and the light in our bedroom is a bluish gray. Everything is washed in that color. I wish I could take a picture of that light in such a way that it would do it justice. I love that light. I love it because you want to snuggle with me. After your early morning nursing session, still drowsy from milk and a trickle of it running across your cheek, I let you lay in the crook of my arm, your head resting on my bicep. You smile in your sleep and your hands flutter and grab at my skin.

I want to freeze time. I want to live in those moments before you are fully awake and revel in your babyhood. My second little girl. The days are flying by. Since I last wrote, you’ve attended a wedding:

Started to smile:

Played with your sister:

Slept through trips to the zoo (yes, that’s you snuggled in there)

And the Magic House.

While your first two months were easy – really, I lucked out and got the easiest newborn ever with you – the last month has been a struggle. But we’ve survived. We survived your first nursing strike. (You are making it known that you are not your sister, throwing me for a loop with something she never did.) Your awake more now which is good and bad. Good because I get to see your smiles and hear your giggles. Bad because that means I need to adjust again and learn how to split my time between you and your sister. I still haven’t gotten it right.

I promise it will get better. I thought a family of three was perfect but now I’m really digging being four.

Love you forever and ever,

Your Mother

A Few Vital Stats:

  • Likes: When Lorelei and I sing “Mahna Mahna,” people blowing gently on your face, watching baseball on the television, chewing on your dinosaur rattle (when Lorelei lets you have it)
  • Dislikes: Napping, being held in the cradle position (especially when you are most definitely NOT hungry), carseats
  • New Skills: So, so, so very close to rolling over, sitting in the Bumbo for 5 minutes before you start to tip over)
  • Weight: 12 pounds, 14 ounces (as of 5/30/12)

Five Weeks

Dear Amélie,

More than a month has already flown by. I remember when your sister was born, time seemed to drag. Days were endless and difficult. Not with you. You are easy. A happy little nugget, content most of the time no matter where you are – unless you are hungry and then all bets are off.

Your favorite thing to do right now (other than eat and sleep) is to lie on your playmat on the porch. A combination of sunlight and a gentle breeze can calm you. For some reason, it must be outside on the porch. You could be doing the same thing inside and start to get fussy, but the slight change of scenery seems to perk your right back up.

It’s still strange to find us as a family of four but there are definitely days when it seems that you’ve always been here. Your sister loves you but she is reluctant to share her toys – even her old baby toys which she has barely touched in a year. But when you cry she says, “It’s alright, Amélie.” She will even pat you gently on the arm. You are lucky to have such a great big sister and she is very luck to have you as a little sister.

We are all very lucky and we love you lots and lots.

Your Mother