March 4th, 2011
Dear Camille,
You know how I said I was going to get better about these? Yeah, whatever.
Your dad and I both think you're left-handed. You always reach for stuff with your left hand first. You always chew on your left hand. You always grab my hair with your left hand. I guess it's a bit early to really definitively say, but yeah, that's what we're thinking.
Your eczema is getting worse every day. You wiggle around to scratch your back when you're laying down, which makes your back all red and makes you cry. There's nothing we can do about it, either, except slather you with lotion, keep you naked, and hold you up so you're not rubbing.
Soon, you're going to be able to hold yourself up... you can sit up! You did it last Saturday by yourself. You still fall over every couple of minutes, but you're getting better at sitting up straighter and for longer periods of time. Once you can really sit up on your own, I bet your eczema will start getting better, especially on your back.
Love, Mom
January 24th, 2011
Dear Camille,
I haven't done one of these in a while, mostly because I just talk straight to your face now. You won't be able to remember out conversations when you're older, though, and you will be able to read these letters to you. I need to be better about them!
You can roll over now, both ways! You started rolling from your back to front by swinging your legs up in the air and then letting them fall to the side. Once you figured out how to straighten them out again, you were rolled over! The first time you did it, I was at school so I missed it. Sadness. :(
You use your bouncy chair more now, and you'll sit in it for longer than 10 seconds like before. It's next to the fish tank and you'll often be found sitting still in the chair, gazing up at the fish, mouth agape.
You're entering the mouthing phase. That is, you put everything in your mouth. Well, you try to. You're still not 100% on the hand-eye coordination, and sometimes you miss your mouth. But not often. Most of the time, whatever you're holding in your kung-fu grip goes straight into your munchin' cave.
You'll be four months old on Wednesday (today is Monday). Time is really flying. It seems like only yesterday you were this stationary little crying thing that did nothing but eat, sleep, and poop. Now, you're partially-stationary, you cry less, and in addition to eating, sleeping, and pooping, you smile, laugh, babble, bounce, and put everything in your mouth. I'm kind of afraid for when you start to crawl.
Love, Mom
November 3rd, 2010
Dear Camille,
We skipped baby group today because you have a cold and I didn't want to make the other babies sick. Get better already! This weekend, we're going to the Utah-TCU game, but only if you're better. So get crackin'!
I have a query for you. It's mostly hypothetical, because I know I'll never get an answer, but here goes: if you're going to get so upset when you don't have your binky in your mouth, then why do you spit it out right after I've just put it back in?!?
Oh, look two pictures down. See that cute little flowery onesie you're wearing? Well, you've outgrown it. I can still squeeze you into it if I apply enough lubricant, but that whole outfit is going in the "things Camille outgrew" box. Sadness! It was a cute outfit. Oh well, that's just an excuse to go buy more.
Love, Mom
October 26th, 2010
Dear Camille,
You're one month old today!
You're so fuckin' cute! Five seconds after I took this picture, you started crying. And you kicked your sock off. As it turned out, all you wanted was your binky. Stinker.
Love, Mom
October 20th, 2010
Dear Beast (Camille),
Well, you arrived on Sunday the 26th, so you narrowly avoided being named Gaylord. I knew you would take my threat seriously!
You're almost a month old, and right now you're asleep on the couch.
My mom (your mums) has informed me that you're an incredibly good baby. You don't cry or fuss very much, you're a good eater, and you're finally starting to respond when your dad and I make faces at you. You don't like being left alone, and the only reason you're not crying right now is because I'm a ninja and I managed to set you down without waking you up. Go me!
It seems I may have spoken too soon... you're waking up!
Love, Mom
September 22nd, 2010
Dear Beast,
It's your dad's 31st birthday today. I thought it would be cool if you two had the same birthday, but you're acting like a turd, and unless things change really fast, you're not going to be born today. Thanks for ruining my plans!
You're term today. Like, really, literally term. In three hours, you're going to be overdue. I'm curious: what are you waiting for?
I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I think it would be really great if I could show up to it and honestly announce, "I think I'm in labor!" and have him say, "Why yes, yes you are!"
We're all ready for you. Get out of me, please.
Love, Mom
P.S. I'm serious about that Gaylord thing.
September 20th, 2010
Dear Beast,
If you don't get out here right now, I'm going to name you Gaylord.
I mean it.
Love, Mom
September 15th, 2010
DearFreeloading Baby Beast,
39 weeks today. You know what that means? You could have been out of me a week ago.
Yep.
Just throwing that out there.
Comfy in there? It's even nicer out here. Out here, you can do stuff. Like eat. And poop. Your daddy will teach you all about how awesome pooping is. But first, you have to G.E.T.O.U.T.
Love, Mom
September 8th, 2010
Dear Beast,
You're 38 weeks gestated today. Therefore, it's time for you to get out. Go on. Get out. Momma's tired of waddling and not being able to bend down. I also really want to eat sushi and a turkey sandwich. Not at the same time.
I'm ready when you are.
Love, Mom
September 6th, 2010
Dear Beast,
Your dad and I went on a walk this morning, and for about 20 minutes, I thought I was going into labor. I had this horrible, awful, stabbing pain in my lower abdominal area. It was so bad at times, I had to stop walking.
After a little while, I figured out that I was not, in fact, going into labor, but rather you were playing bouncy on my bladder.
Please leave my poor bladder alone. It's already endured so much.
Love, Mom
August 31st, 2010
Dear Camille,
You know how I said I was going to get better about these? Yeah, whatever.
Your dad and I both think you're left-handed. You always reach for stuff with your left hand first. You always chew on your left hand. You always grab my hair with your left hand. I guess it's a bit early to really definitively say, but yeah, that's what we're thinking.
Your eczema is getting worse every day. You wiggle around to scratch your back when you're laying down, which makes your back all red and makes you cry. There's nothing we can do about it, either, except slather you with lotion, keep you naked, and hold you up so you're not rubbing.
Soon, you're going to be able to hold yourself up... you can sit up! You did it last Saturday by yourself. You still fall over every couple of minutes, but you're getting better at sitting up straighter and for longer periods of time. Once you can really sit up on your own, I bet your eczema will start getting better, especially on your back.
Love, Mom
January 24th, 2011
Dear Camille,
I haven't done one of these in a while, mostly because I just talk straight to your face now. You won't be able to remember out conversations when you're older, though, and you will be able to read these letters to you. I need to be better about them!
You can roll over now, both ways! You started rolling from your back to front by swinging your legs up in the air and then letting them fall to the side. Once you figured out how to straighten them out again, you were rolled over! The first time you did it, I was at school so I missed it. Sadness. :(
You use your bouncy chair more now, and you'll sit in it for longer than 10 seconds like before. It's next to the fish tank and you'll often be found sitting still in the chair, gazing up at the fish, mouth agape.
You're entering the mouthing phase. That is, you put everything in your mouth. Well, you try to. You're still not 100% on the hand-eye coordination, and sometimes you miss your mouth. But not often. Most of the time, whatever you're holding in your kung-fu grip goes straight into your munchin' cave.
You'll be four months old on Wednesday (today is Monday). Time is really flying. It seems like only yesterday you were this stationary little crying thing that did nothing but eat, sleep, and poop. Now, you're partially-stationary, you cry less, and in addition to eating, sleeping, and pooping, you smile, laugh, babble, bounce, and put everything in your mouth. I'm kind of afraid for when you start to crawl.
Love, Mom
November 3rd, 2010
Dear Camille,
We skipped baby group today because you have a cold and I didn't want to make the other babies sick. Get better already! This weekend, we're going to the Utah-TCU game, but only if you're better. So get crackin'!
I have a query for you. It's mostly hypothetical, because I know I'll never get an answer, but here goes: if you're going to get so upset when you don't have your binky in your mouth, then why do you spit it out right after I've just put it back in?!?
Oh, look two pictures down. See that cute little flowery onesie you're wearing? Well, you've outgrown it. I can still squeeze you into it if I apply enough lubricant, but that whole outfit is going in the "things Camille outgrew" box. Sadness! It was a cute outfit. Oh well, that's just an excuse to go buy more.
Love, Mom
October 26th, 2010
Dear Camille,
You're one month old today!
Love, Mom
October 20th, 2010
Dear Beast (Camille),
Well, you arrived on Sunday the 26th, so you narrowly avoided being named Gaylord. I knew you would take my threat seriously!
You're almost a month old, and right now you're asleep on the couch.
 |
| Awww so cute! |
It seems I may have spoken too soon... you're waking up!
Love, Mom
September 22nd, 2010
Dear Beast,
It's your dad's 31st birthday today. I thought it would be cool if you two had the same birthday, but you're acting like a turd, and unless things change really fast, you're not going to be born today. Thanks for ruining my plans!
You're term today. Like, really, literally term. In three hours, you're going to be overdue. I'm curious: what are you waiting for?
I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I think it would be really great if I could show up to it and honestly announce, "I think I'm in labor!" and have him say, "Why yes, yes you are!"
We're all ready for you. Get out of me, please.
Love, Mom
P.S. I'm serious about that Gaylord thing.
September 20th, 2010
Dear Beast,
If you don't get out here right now, I'm going to name you Gaylord.
I mean it.
Love, Mom
September 15th, 2010
Dear
39 weeks today. You know what that means? You could have been out of me a week ago.
Yep.
Just throwing that out there.
Comfy in there? It's even nicer out here. Out here, you can do stuff. Like eat. And poop. Your daddy will teach you all about how awesome pooping is. But first, you have to G.E.T.O.U.T.
Love, Mom
September 8th, 2010
Dear Beast,
You're 38 weeks gestated today. Therefore, it's time for you to get out. Go on. Get out. Momma's tired of waddling and not being able to bend down. I also really want to eat sushi and a turkey sandwich. Not at the same time.
I'm ready when you are.
Love, Mom
September 6th, 2010
Dear Beast,
Your dad and I went on a walk this morning, and for about 20 minutes, I thought I was going into labor. I had this horrible, awful, stabbing pain in my lower abdominal area. It was so bad at times, I had to stop walking.
After a little while, I figured out that I was not, in fact, going into labor, but rather you were playing bouncy on my bladder.
Please leave my poor bladder alone. It's already endured so much.
Love, Mom
August 31st, 2010
Dear Beast,
I've been meaning to make this "Letters to the Beast" page for a while, but whenever I log on, I get distracted by LOLCats and Facebook and forget to make it. I expect that when you read this when you're older, your reaction will be, "Yeah, that sounds like my mom."
I would like to begin the Beast-Letters with a musing at what you're going to be like once you're not in me anymore. May I say - and don't take this the wrong way, because I really do love you - I can't wait until you get the hell out of me. You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. OK really you're more a pain in the lungs and bladder. Whenever I stand up, you decide to play bouncy-time on my bladder, and I swear to God, if you make me pee my pants, I'm going to wallpaper the living room with embarrassing photos of you so whenever your friends come over you have to explain away your awkward early teen years!!
Back on track... what you'll be like. I think you're going to be like me in the arena of disliking change. I dislike change very much, and I think you will, too. I say this because you don't budge from the right side of your apartment. Always hanging out on the right side. Kicking. Punching. Practicing various other ninja skills. Even when I lay on my left side, you work against gravity and keep yourself wedged on the right.
You react strongly to touch. When I touch my belly where you are, or when someone else does it, you touch back. And by touch, I mean pummel. I expect this will either mean you won't like to be touched at all, or you're going to be super touchy-feely. It's hard to gauge.
I have inadvertently been exposing you to 90s music, because that's what I like and listen to it at a high volume. Your dad likes U2, and I think you do, too. Gross. I think the riffs of Trent Reznor lull you to sleep. If you grow up to like shitty music, I'm going to sell you to gypsies.
I've been addicted to brussels sprouts lately, as well as artichokes, and I wonder if you'll like those. I read somewhere that the food I eat while you're inside are the foods you'll probably prefer on the outside. So... brussels sprouts, artichokes, chocolate, pancakes... that's all I can think of right now.
I hope you and Sophie get along. She wouldn't hurt you on purpose, but she gets very excited around kids and doesn't realize how big she is.
OK, I think that's long enough for now. I'm sure there will be more of these. Only three weeks left until you're supposed to make your debut. Your dad and I are both punctual, but I have the sneaking suspicion you won't be. Don't make me wait too long, Beast!
Love, Mom
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