Dear Scarlett,
When I decided to quit my job and stay home with you full-time, I wondered if I would blog more or less often. The verdict is in, and I definitely blog less. Forgive me for saying this, but when you go down for a nap and I have some time to myself, I can think of other ways to spend it. We are together almost all the time now, which is incredible. I get to see all of your milestones (and experience all of your moods.) Yesterday during a video chat with Nonnie, you said her name correctly for the first time. Prior to that, you've been saying "Nana" and driving her nuts. You got a new bib with an owl on it and you want to wear it all the time, even in the bath. When I tried to take it off of you after dinner last night, you screamed. Right now you're napping with it. Although a quick glance at the monitor confirms that neither you nor your owl bib are sleeping.
We've had a rough week and a half because you've been sick with an ear infection. And just like last time, you were resistant to your medication and it took us some time to figure that out. So now you're on a new antibiotic and you are finally sleeping at night, which means Dad and I are finally sleeping at night. Did I mention it's been rough? I have actually felt my brain cells fogging up this week as they search for the right words in conversations. I went to a much-needed yoga class last night, and although my balance was off, I think my head cleared a little.
The teacher told us to leave the day behind, shut out all thoughts of the night ahead, and just try to be in the moment. And I was surprised to find that when I closed my eyes and concentrated only on my internal state and my breathing, that you were there with me. It sounds ridiculous now that I've written it down, but it's true. I was there, inside myself, and you were there, too. I know you so well. When you say "fwubuh" I know it means "spider" and "flower." Apparently you see similarities between the two. I know that "duggah' means you want your kitten blanket from Grandma, and that when you are fussy and irritable, I can sing one song to you--any song--but after that I cannot switch songs. And there are things I know about you that I can't even explain in words. I wonder if I'll always feel like you're a part of me, or if that will change as you grow older and it's not as easy to figure you out.
I just turned up the monitor and it sounds like a flock of birds is in your bedroom with you. You are a noisy little thing, just singing and talking to yourself. You literally have not stopped speaking for an entire hour. Here is what you are saying now: "Stout. Oh, Stout. Stoutie!" Stout is what you call yourself, so I am sitting here highly entertained. I do value time to myself, and this is why I can't spend every day writing about you and listening to you while you nap. But today, it happens to be exactly what I want to do.
Love,
Mom
