Dear Colin... (8 months)

Dear Colin:

I have never heard you laugh like you did one night this week. You’ve just recently started truly laughing at the most random things I do, and I know I can get you to giggle when I say certain words like “boing,” “p.u.,” and “whooph!”

I taught you how to throw a ball in an evening recently, and we sat well past your bedtime tossing it back and forth. Well, I tossed it to you and you would pick it up and throw it every time. But sometimes you let it go too early, and it’d go behind you, or you’d let it go too late, it and it would drop in front of you. Either way, you kept right on going.

I yelled for your daddy to join us, and he kept encouraging you to pick up the ball and throw it with your left hand. His (current) dream for you is to become a left-handed professional baseball pitcher. I can’t really tell whether you’re a righty or a lefty yet because you pick up objects with whatever hand is closest, and eat with both at the same time!

So when I heard you full and outright hysterically belly laughing like I’ve never heard from you before, I just had to see just what was so hilarious. So I peeked into the nursery where you were with your daddy and saw exactly what was so funny. Your daddy had apparently started to undress you for your bath and had gotten as far as taking off your long pants. And what you were doing was throwing the pair of pants at your daddy, and he would throw them right back and grunt like it was a huge effort to throw the pants a few inches away, causing you to laugh like you’ve never laughed with me.

I have to say that I’ve never thought of throwing a pair of pants back and forth in my quest to get you to giggle, so kudos to your daddy for his creativity. He’s not usually a creative guy, so I have to give him props for coming up with something so random that’s apparently the most entertaining thing ever for you.

And now what’s so entertaining to me is that now whenever you throw something, you grunt, imitating your daddy. It’s completely adorable. Just like you.

Love, 

Mom

Dear Colin... (7 months)

Dear Colin:

I cried the entire way to the airport. I was glad it was dark so the cab driver couldn’t see me wiping away my tears as he drove me further and further away from you.

I made him wait for me in our driveway for a brief time because I didn’t want to stop squeezing you and planting kisses on those sweet squishy cheek to put you back in your crib. I knew it’d be the last time I held you for nearly a week, and at the time, it seemed like a week that would last an eternity.

I was heading out on a business trip to Texas for five days – the longest period of time I’ve ever left you. I knew I was leaving you in good hands – we called your Mimi Meller to hang out with you and your daddy while I was gone – but it was still heartbreaking knowing I wouldn’t have you in my arms for nearly a week.

I cried one more time during that business trip – and that was when your daddy texted me that your Mimi Meller had told him that she had heard your first word. Dada. I was heartbroken that I wasn't there to hear it. I tried to console myself by telling myself that it wasn't a real word; it was just a sound and you didn't know what it meant. But it was a milestone that I wasn't there to witness, and it made me upset.

I know I'll be around for many more milestones, both big and small, but that just seemed like one of the biggest ones. You're also just on the verge of thinking about crawling - even though you're an absolute pro at rolling from one place to another - but I stared into your eyes before I left and made you promise that you wouldn't crawl while I was gone. I just didn't think to make you promise you'd stay mute until I got back, too! 

The best thing about going on that business trip, though, was the excitement and anticipation about coming home to see you after such a long time. I made it home before you went to bed, and the smile I got from you when you saw me walk through the door was absolutely priceless.

I swear I came back to a different kid, though - one much bigger and heavier than the one I left. At least it seemed that way. You're growing up so fast, buddy. Slow down and let mommy savor it a little more, would ya?

Love,

Mom