Three Months

Dearest Leah,

This letter is the last one I'll have written while I'm at home full time with you. I go back to work next week and my stomach turns into a giant knot when I even think about what my first day away from you is going to be like. But I know you'll be fine with your Grandma. Sorry to make that all about me. Where was I? Right. You're awesome and every day is better than the last. 

Except when it comes to sleeping - you sort of suck at that. You break out of your swaddle on an almost hourly basis, but if I don't wrap you up like a little screaming burrito, you flail your arms in your sleep and wake yourself up. You even manage to break out of the so called magic sleepers that are like little fleece baby straight jackets. But at least your break out skills are not a reflection of my swaddling skills, cause dayum I can wrap that shit up TIGHT. Anyway, I recently purchased a book called The No-Cry Sleep Solution, and I'm hoping that it will reduce your night time wakings from three to four times a night down to fucking zero. And as soon as I get time to read that book, I'm going to implement the shit out of the author's suggestions - cause Momma's starting to forget more than her name and what day it is.  

You fart when you sneeze and holy crow does it make me cackle like a five year old every. single. time.  I know that sounds dumb, but gurrrrl can you toot loud. Gosh, you are just like your Daddy! Speaking of laughing, you giggled for the first time on March 10th. You looked right in my eyes as I smiled at you and you let out the slightest little laugh. It was amazing, and yes, I cried.

The Weeds. You grow like them. I can't believe how many of your pajama's with feets that I have had to retire already. There are a few of them that you only got to wear once or twice. I am really looking forward to your doctors appointment next month so I can see quantitatively how much you have grown, weight and length wise. (we don't have a *working* scale at the house).

The older you get the more I think about everything I want to give you. And I'm not talking about your first pair of Converse High Tops, or necklace from Tiffany. I want you to give you support and confidence. I want you to know how smart, and wonderful you are. And just how very, ridiculously much you are loved. I want to chaperon your field trips and embarrass you at Back-to School night. And I want to talk about anything and everything with you, so you never feel like you're alone, or stupid, or not good enough. (Unfortunately, I think puberty will sneak that crap in anyway) But I want to be your shoulder to cry on, your ride to the movies, and the person who teaches you how to make Baked Zitti and Apple Pies from scratch. I want to be there for you in every possible way a Mother should, for the rest of my life. Because you deserve that. 

Which makes me all the more excited to see what the next month will bring...

Love,

Momma