Dear Maren: Month 3

Dear Maren:

I don’t think I’ve ever done anything ever before in my life for 90 days without getting bored.

Guess what we discovered today?

A DIMPLE. On the left side of your face, just above your lip. A DIMPLE. My friend Elicia said that dimples are caused by a genetic problem where the muscles in your face are a little too short. This seems weird to say. But it’s totally okay with me.

This month, I did a lot of realizing how many ‘firsts’ you are having, and how many ‘seconds’ and ‘thirds’ and….. and at what point will it no longer be such a big deal? Earlier this month I heard you laugh for the first time. Every time you do it, I slightly freak out and try to make you go into total hysterics. I know I’ll never get tired of hearing you laugh– but will there ever be a point where I’m like, …..eh. Yeah, so, the kid laughs. Great. She also poops, and you don’t see me making a huge deal out of that, do ya?

But actually, I do kind of make a big deal out of it when you poo. Because its a big deal, man. Earlier this week you hadn’t pooped since Saturday. SATURDAY. When you finally pushed it out all the way on Wednesday, I thought I was going to throw a party. I can’t tell you with any kind of certainty the last time that I pooped, but when asked I can pinpoint your movements to the minute, complete with texture, color and approximate volume.

Being a mom does weird things to us.

Something that I love about you so much is how you were never a newborn. The minute they put you in my arms, you looked straight into my eyes with the most alert, most present expression I have ever seen in a baby.

Something else that I love oh so much is that when Dad or I sing to you, you coo along with us. Your eyes just sparkle at us.

Something else that I love the most is how your cry is angry, not whiny. You look at us and wind up and let out a good ass-chewing. My girl has an opinion, not an entitlement.

This month, you have become absolutely fascinated with your Dad. I mean, you think that Mama is pretty great and all, but when Daddy is in the room, Mama might as well not even exist. When I was little, I was a Daddy’s girl– I always wondered if my Mom was so so jealous. But I’m not– I love the look on your faces when you see each other. I love that I get to see that for years or more.

I love it all. I love you most. I love you best. I love you always. I love everything you are, and everything you will be.

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