4 Months – Growing like a weed

N.B. Never again will I put so many Torsten pictures in a post, but since we had some professional pics available this time, plus all of the pictures from Oma and Opa’s visit, I couldn’t resist…

Dearest Torsten,

I’ve tried to write this month’s letter several times now, and I never seem to get it quite right. Part of that is that you’ve bloomed so amazingly this month that it’s hard to get it all in here – the other part is that there’s always so much to do and so little time that I never seem to get around to getting it right. I’m willing to write lots of crappy blog posts, don’t get me wrong, but I figure if I’m going to get anything right, it should be this, just once every month. But this will be a rambling post anyway, and I’m sure you’ll forgive me. When you’re 40 or so.

So… where shall we start?

Well… First of all, little guy, you totally do things on purpose now. And that makes things a lot more fun.

When you’re on your tummy, you play peek-a-boo with Mama – on purpose.

When you’re in your little bathtub, you kick and splash (and giggle as a result) on purpose.

When you’re on the changing table, you talk to Mama and Papa and laugh and laugh on purpose.

You kick at your ball in the playpen on purpose, you grab your linky rings on purpose, and you chew on your toy monkey on purpose.

And it is becoming clear that you’re pretty much aware of how feeding occurs, because you now try to take the bottle away from us to hold it yourself on purpose. Oh, and you are partially breastfed, and so you help Mama pull her shirt out of the way on purpose and then get the biggest grin ever, just in case you think I missed how happy you are to get to your goal, so to speak.

Totally on purpose. It’s awesome – you still have the best little personality ever, and the more it comes out, the better it is. You’re a wonderfully happy, silly little boy.

The month started out with Oma and Opa coming to visit from Germany, and boy, was that the most exciting thing ever for you. They were here for three weeks, and in that three weeks, you got more walks, cuddling, songs, playing, bouncing, and talking than you knew what to do with it. (You were, in fact, a little overstimulated at the end of the day, but you loved it, and hey, how often do you get to see Opa and Oma?)

This was also good for Mama and Papa, who each got a little break from constant parenting, and so we really appreciated it (not that we don’t loooove being around you, but we need sleep and rest sometimes too ).

Even in the short time they were here with you, they noticed how big you are and how fast you’re growing. Unfortunately, at the end, they didn’t get to spend as much time with you because the plague descended upon our house. First Opa went down, then Oma, and then Papa. Mama got it too, but only for a day, and fortunately, you managed not to get it at all.

This makes Mama feel bad about the next development we have to talk about: breastfeeding. I figure that’s what kept you healthy, and we’re in the process of stopping right now. This is not because I want to, but due to a combination of my production going down and Mama needing to treat an infection she’s been avoiding for a long time hoping to keep nursing for as long as possible. To be fair, neither Mama nor Papa was breastfed for as long as you were – Papa was only breastfed for a couple of months because Oma had to go back to work, and Mama wasn’t breastfed for very long at all, supposedly because she was congested (which makes you wonder how I ate at all, actually, since a bottle doesn’t solve that problem, but it doesn’t matter…) – but I had still really wanted to breastfeed you for as long as possible. Given how hard it was in the beginning, I never thought I’d miss it, but it’s our special time cuddly time together, and while I know we’ll still have special cuddly time, I have to say, it was pretty cool. I still feel kind of guilty, but seriously, I need to do this. I’m sure I feel much worse about it than you do, so I’ll be quiet

But have you got it going on this month, or what? In the last two months, you’ve grown and grown and grown. Your length is in – get this – the 92nd percentile, and your head size is in the 71st. Your weight is just above average, making you a skinny, long little guy, but you’re healthy, and the pediatrician has just declared you to be the magnificent little being that you are. Not that we needed her to tell us that, mind you.

But those are just measurements. Ok, so you are bigger than the 9 month old little girl we met today at the doctor’s office, but what’s really cool is that you’re doing all the stuff 4-month-old babies are supposed to do. You hold your head up like a champ, you like to walk on Mama and Papa, you sit up with support, you lie on your tummy with your head held high, you hold your toys, you smile and giggle at us and other people and things you like (like the ceiling fan), and you’re starting to be able to do so much with intent it’s scary. Oh, and you just love that baby that lives on the other side of the bathroom mirror. You giggle and talk and fairly bounce with joy when you see him and his mama, and it makes Mama giggle too. (By the way, I love that baby too – he’s my second-favorite baby, next to my Torsten Monster…)

We especially love it when you talk – you have this great little baby voice and are so cute when you’re trying to tell us whatever’s on your baby mind. And boy, do you talk now – ever since your 4-month appointment, you’ve been trying to tell us about everything. You’re fairly bursting with personality.

Yes, Torsten, you are definitely your own person, and may I say that we are so lucky that you are, for the most part, a happy, joyful, curious one. Sure, you’ve been a little fussier this month as you start to pay more attention to things, but you are still a joy, and we know exactly how lucky we are.

You have the most infectious laugh and beautiful smile in the world, and you love to kick and wiggle and play. And you’re still Mama and Papa’s snugglebunny. You still wake up smiling and excited, and even grumpy before bedtime you’re sweet and cuddly.

In other developmental news, however, you’ve been losing your beautiful brown, shiny fetal hair for some time now, and you have had that Ed Asner look going on for most of the month. Fortunately, new hair is finally growing in, but you keep rubbing it off of the back of your head (but not the very bottom, hence the Ed Asner thing), so we’ll see how you look in, say, 6 months. None of the rest of you is Asneresque (at least I think not – I’m not sure I want to picture Ed Asner in a diaper and an Elmo outfit…), but is instead supercute, so even the hair thing comes off well. I just miss putting my cheek against your super-fuzzy hair

But the big news for us grownups this month is that you’ve moved from a fragile little guy to a sturdy wiggly baby who loves to play airplane and horsey. As a lady in the elevator told me the other day, now the fun starts.

You had your first real portraits taken this month too, and boy are you cute. Mama sucks at taking pictures, so it was nice to get some photos of you that show your Loch Ness smile and big blue eyes. You put up with the whole thing wonderfully, and the pictures are awesome. Of course, the price was obscene (and unexpected – stupid coupon ads are a rip), but I love that we have some professional pictures of you anyway, even if we’re certainly not going to go about them this way again.

It was definitely worth capturing your cuteness, though

In other news, you still only like to nap on Mama or Papa (though you do sleep pretty well at night), and the pediatrician thinks it’s about time we do something about it. She’d really like us to Ferberize you because that’s what she did with her kids, and she’s afraid you’ll never learn to fall asleep on your own. However, Mama hates that idea. We’ll do it if we have to, but we’re willing to try a lot of other stuff first. If we ever have to go that far, Papa will have to lock Mama in the storage room or send her to Botswana for several weeks, because I’m totally unwilling to hear my snuggly 4-month-old baby boy screaming bloody murder for hours every night for several days. That just seems unnecessary to me. You’re a wonderfully secure, happy little boy, and we like to save making you cry for important things, like, you know, shots. You know, shots – those things you cry about for maybe 30 seconds before Papa distracts you and you giggle. Tracy Hogg, author of Secrets of the Baby Whisperer, claims you’re denying your baby his voice if you distract him from crying, but I have to say that Tracy Hogg’s book was both annoying and patronizing (try taking baby advice seriously from someone who writes in the voice and tone of Daphne from Frasier, calling you “luv” in the text…), and anyone who knows you knows that no one would try to deny you your voice. It’s too cute. You can cry all you want, but I’m not going to go out of my way to make you do it.

Now, I’m willing to accept that at your age, it’s about time we tried to set up a naptime routine and maybe work at getting you to sleep more independently, but for Pete’s sake, you’re 4 months old. I hate the whole school of thought that babies are trainable like puppies and thus should be trained like puppies. (Something to this effect was said to us by one of the pediatricians when you were uh… 2 weeks old I think. Made me cringe.) If you fall asleep after your evening feeding, guess what… you fall asleep after your evening feeding. I am not worried that you are going to fall asleep in your macaroni and cheese at age 12 because you learned to sleep after eating. And if you need a little cuddling, you’re going to get a little cuddling. Because soon enough you’ll be a teenager who doesn’t want to be seen on the same continent as your parents, and you’ll spend your time moodily listening to whatever sort of alternative music is popular in 2024 (hopefully, the New Kids on the Block will not be enjoying a comeback…). But anyhow, we’re going to go for some less drastic methods and try to ease you into it. I’ll let you know how it goes.
See how I told you Mama would ramble? Mama always rambles.

Anyway, in other news, you went for your first train ride the other day, and you were so jazzed about it. All of that stuff going by so fast, and the noises, and the other passengers? My goodness, all the people… your eyes were huge and your grin was enormous. And then… then we got on the bus. You’ve been on the bus before, but never just after the train, and you thought it was just the greatest thing ever. This is the good thing about us taking public transportation all over the place – you and I can enjoy the ride together, and Mama and Papa don’t have to worry about driving into trees while we do it.

Anyway, I suspect I’ve said just about enough for this month, but if the next month goes anything like this one, I suspect you’ll be even more frighteningly different and wonderful by the next letter.

Don’t grow too fast, pumpkin… we can hardly keep up as it is