WE SURVIVED A WHOLE FREAKIN YEAR I CAN'T BELIEVE IT SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE ME A MEDAL.
What a year this has been, Lincoln. I have never been so tired in my entire life. I have never felt so defeated and overwhelmed and helpless as I have in the last year. But you are worth it, and I'm able to say this because you started leaning in for open-mouthed kisses in the last month.
Also, you're sleeping a helluva lot better than I could have hoped for at this point. I was mentally prepping myself to endure another year of tough sleep from you, but since Daddy was in the hospital (and you got over a sicky bug) you've begun sleeping about 8-9 hours straight at night, and then going back to bed for a couple of hours some mornings. Yes, there are still nights I spend up to 4 hours rocking, bouncing, nursing, holding and otherwise trying desperately to help you sleep... but those nights are no longer the norm.
Other developments this month include you crawling for real. You don't just scoot around on the wood floor on your tummy anymore, which is kind of sad because that was really cute. I've also been giving you a spoon so you can give yourself bites of food without my help. You still prefer to play with toys on your tray while I shovel food in, but it's all good. Another change is that you don't just jump in place now when someone holds your hands while standing; you'll actually kick your legs out and try walking (mostly with your right foot, while the left kinda draaaags behind). Usually it's toward a ball on the floor. Balls are your favorite. We always have one in the car, one in your crib, and about eleventy-billion on the floor of the house. You like to push them through the baby gate at the top of the stairs and see them accumulate in front of the door on the landing. When a toy goes out of sight, you do your best to ask, "Where'd it go?" and it's SO CUTE. You also like to put things into other things, like my shoes into the bottom drawer of Daddy's dresser. Or anything you can get your hands on will go out the doggy door onto the deck (HAHAHAHAHA!).
You get into everything, which is so different from when Aspen was your age. She just sat in one place and scooted in circles. She toddled behind her walker toys and loved reading books and watching "Signing Time." You, however, can be found in any number of inappropriate places. When I happen upon you in Aspen's room, digging through her toys, you usually look at me and say, 'Uh-oh." IT'S SO HILARIOUS. Aspen doesn't like it, but oh well.
Bird sounds are your specialty, and you will call back to the morning doves when you hear them. You also "caw-caw" to the birds, and try to bark like the dogs in our neighborhood.
When Daddy got back from the hospital and was told he couldn't hold you for another month, it was then you decided that you kind of like him. So he'll sit on the floor and let you sit in his lap and we wish he could pick you up and do more with you... but we're all just so glad he didn't leave us that I'll take what we can get. I'm glad you're more into Daddy now. I think you've finally forgiven him for cutting the umbilical cord and separating us FOREVER.
Speaking of Daddy and the hospital- your Aunt Tiff came to town for a week to rescue me. I was so worn down and stressed out from your Dad being sick, and Tiff flew from Florida and worked hard to make you like her. She went to you in the night and rocked you back to sleep. She fed you, she played ball with you, she took you on walks and on outings with Aspen. She gave me a much-needed break so I could be a better mom. It was so great to see her spending time with you and Aspen and, obviously, you finally warmed up to her the day before she left. I'm so glad you kids are well-cared for by so many different family members and friends. We're pretty lucky. You've also really developed a love for your Uncle Seth, and when we visited him a couple of weeks ago, you got mad when I tried to take you from him and bring you home. Being that you're such a MOTHERBOY, this is such a joy and relief to me.
It's been a tricky transition Lincoln, but I think we're getting there... to that place when I feel like a person again and not just a sleep-deprived wreck who can't remember whether or not the dog has been fed or if I've gone to the bathroom recently.
Happy Birthday, you crazy little baby man.
See Aspen's monthly letter HERE.
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