No No, Enzo

Dear Enzo,


For the past couple days you have had to come to work with me while I have cleaned up my classroom and checked out for the school year.  You have been such a trooper, letting everyone in the building hold you and playing contentedly by yourself while I swept and tidied and organized. Some of the time you sat in your play pen and chewed on your toys, but that usually only lasted for a few minutes.  You always want to be part of the action, so I would get you out and let you crawl around on my filthy floor.  I tried to isolate you in a corner, surrounded by toys or books, or at least relatively clean pencils, but invariably you crawled to a pile of trash and tried to put it in your mouth.  "No, Enzo, no!" I said, over and over while I dug soggy paper out of your mouth or peeled your fingers off a broken pen cap.   I was relieved to finally get you home where you could chew on computer cords and my discarded sandals.  At least I know where those have been.


This is a pattern with you.  Your bedroom contains almost nothing you could possibly get hurt on - blocks, puzzles, stuffed animals, soft sided baskets - but even amid all those toys and games you ALWAYS make a beeline for the fan and start chewing on the power cord.  When we let you play in the living room you head straight for the only power outlet that doesn't have a safety cap on it.  "No, Enzo, that's a no no!" we exclaim while we interrupt your rapid progress across the floor.  But you have no idea what we are saying and respond with wild giggles - you think it is all a big joke, a game, a chance to get momma and papa all riled up.  At some point you will learn what no means, hopefully before you swallow a dead bug or burn your hands on the stove.  But until then, you are one dangerous little rascal, and you certainly keep us on our toes!


Love, 
Momma

Genetics

Dear Enzo,


Everywhere we go people tell me how much you look like me.  Its the eyes, they say, or the coloring, or the hairline.  You do have my eyes, but it is the tiny, more subtle traits you inherited from all of us that I find dazzling.  Your second toe is longer than your big toe,  just like mine and my mothers.  You have knobby knees just like my great grandmother (mamoo).  You have meaty thighs like your father, and ears that curl just like his do.  Your big toe turns up ever so slightly at the ends like mine.  You rub your eyes like Papa.You stick your finger in your ear like Dada.  Your sense of mischief reminds me of Uncle Ryan. 

I love that all these tiny similarities that have accumulated through generations of our family have combined to make YOU, my hilarious, spirited, adorable baby boy.  


Love,
Momma

A Smothering of Grandparents

Dear Enzo,


I love the names that have been given to large groups of animals: a pride of lions, a congress of owls, a bask of crocodiles,  a dazzle of zebras.  But I wonder, what is a large group of grandparents called?  I am not sure a term has been coined for what you have, but let me tell you, when it comes to grandparents, you have hit the jackpot.  Not only do you have 3 sets of grandparents, all six of them are healthy, interesting, relatively normal and absolutely crazy about you.


Grammy and Grampy were the first to meet you.  In fact, Grammy was there in the room when you were born.  Grammy has delivered thousands of babies in her life, but I am confident that you are far and away her most memorable birth.  She and Grampy were with you the first month of your life, when you were tiny and fragile and shivered every time we took your clothes off.  Grampy had never been around a baby before and he just marveled at you.  Every time we changed your diaper he was down on the floor rubbing your head and offering his finger to soothe you.  And Grammy, oh man, I don't think she has ever loved anything more than she loves you and when she had to go home I think she felt like she was leaving her own baby behind. 

For Christmas we went to Grampa and Noni's house in Oregon.  I told Papa that Grampa was going to be nuts about you, but he didn't believe me.  In fact, as we were getting off the airplane in Portland he warned me that I was expecting too much out of my seemingly stoic dad.  And I said "no, you are wrong, he is going to go nuts."  And sure enough, as soon as he caught sight of you in my arms as we came down the terminal Grampa started to cry.  He took you from me immediately and held you close.  The whole time we were at their house Grampa held you every chance he could get, even in the middle of the night. 


I was the one to underestimate Nani.  She was pretty young when you were born, too young to be a grandmother.  Uncle Ben and Uncle Sam were only 10 years old at the time, and I thought she would have a hard time thinking of you as a grandchild.  But I was wrong.  You are her grandson without a doubt.  She proudly displays your scrawny infant photo in her office, and writes about you with pride in her publications.  Nani straddles the line between mother and grandmother beautifully.


In April, months after you were born, your Dada and Dadi finally got a chance to meet you.  They had been watching you on Skype for weeks, Dada looking every day for signs that your hair had grown thicker or your chins had doubled.  Finally they came for their 5 week visit.  Papa went to pick them up from the airport and Dadi burst through the door and, in her excitement, swept you from my arms before she even said hello to me.  And you thought she was hilarious.  For the next five weeks she delighted in you, fed you, changed you and entertained you tirelessly while Momma and Papa were at work. 


When Dada first met you his initial response was a little more clinical - evaluating your hair, your weight, your excellent neck control.  But it wasn't long before even he was putty in your adorable hands.  He watches you roll and crawl and jab yourself in the eye with a spoon with a look that is equal parts amusement, awe, and adoration.  He proudly changes your "nappy" and when you fuss at dinner time he walks around and around and around the block with you to keep you happy.  You are his new best friend.

I envy you.  Though all four of my grandparents are (miraculously) still alive  I have never felt close to any of them.  This is partly my fault - as I became and adult I didn't reach out to them like I should have.  But it is partly because they never showed all that much interest in being close to me.  But not you, my dear boy.  You have a smothering of grandparents to call when you need some advice, or to spend your summers with, or to hit up for birthday money.  Dadi will try to feed you until you are stuffed and Dada will teach you how to bet money on gin.  Grampa will teach you to love board games and baseball, Noni will keep you well supplied with good books.  Grampy will have the patience to tie your shoes a thousand times and Grammy will bake you your favorite cookies and always know exactly what to get you for Christmas.  And all of them will love you no matter what, that is a promise.   Love, Momma

Half a year.

Dear Enzo,

Happy 6 month birthday, my sweet sweet boy.  I can't believe you are already half a year old! You have changed our lives so much, Papa and I often look at each other and wonder what we did before you were born - you fill every moment of our lives when we aren't sleeping or eating or at work.  Sometimes you fill those moments too.

Here is what you are doing at 6 months old:
1. Rolling over - you go from front to back and back to front like a pro.  We can't leave you on our bed anymore for a minute because you will roll right off.
2. Eating veggies - so far you have enjoyed carrots, avocado, broccoli, peas, squash, sweet potato, banana and apple.  You are a terrific eater, and you insist on holding the spoon.  Sometimes you even get it into your mouth, and sometimes your ear, and sometimes your eye...you make an unholy mess, but you love it so much that I just let you have at it.
3. Sitting up - you can almost sit all by yourself.  Sometimes you still topple over suddenly so we have to stay close, but soon we won't have to.  Your favorite is to sit on the couch between Papa and I.  You just hang out there, propped in the crack, so pleased with yourself.  It is adorable
4. Swinging - you love to go to the park and swing in the baby swing.  You are always the tiniest one there, we have to use a pillow to prop you up.  Yesterday you fell asleep in the swing.
5. Laughing - you just keep getting happier and your laugh is the absolute best sound in the world
6. Break Dancing - You want to crawl, so badly, but you just can't quite work out the mechanics.  Instead you push your rear up in the air and throw yourself forward on your tummy, in a hilarious imitatin of "the worm".  But every day you get closer to crawling and before we know it you are going to be taking off and we will be chasing after you.

I love you,
Momma

Chewing it over

I understand that all babies use their mouth as a way of exploring their environment, but you seem to take a particular delight in chewing up the world around you.  Within days of bringing you home from the hospital you gave your papa a bruise from sucking on his chest.  As a tiny baby you left a series of marks on my chin when you were feeling particularly hungry and mistook my face for a good place to nurse.  The marks stayed for days and turned purple and yellow before finally fading away. I think the best day of your small life was when you discovered you could grab something with your hands and put it in your mouth.  That day you took your colorful chew toy that Grammy gave you in both of your tiny fists and went to town.  And you have never looked back.


I try to exercise some discretion in what you are allowed to chew on.  I prevented you from gnawing on the rusted armrest at RFK stadium, I intercepted a handful of grass when we were out playing on the lawn, I wiped down the table at the Vietnamese restaurant before letting you have your way with it, and I have pulled you sputtering and choking up to your feet in your bath countless times as you try to put all the water in your mouth.  But I don't want to stop you from exploring.  I love your sense of curiosity about the world around you, manifested in your desire to put everything you see to your lips - from the shiver of joy that passed through your tiny frame when you got a hold of the crinkly shower curtain liner to the look of astonished disgust when you tasted a soapy sponge.  ( I think you will learn how to crawl when you are barely 6 months old purely out of a desire to get a hold of my cell phone, which I constantly place tortuously out of your reach.  )


But - and here is the question that will haunt me for the next 20 years - how much is too much?  How do I balance my desire for you to experience a full and interesting life with my desire to protect you from harm?  You love to swing, but you also love to chew on the baby seat while you swing.  Enzo dear, that baby swing at the park has got to be one of the most disgusting, germ infested surfaces on the planet.  Could you just leave it alone?  For my sake.


I promise to keep you safe.  I promise to let you have fun.  Forgive me if l don't get it right every time.


Love, 

Momma

Being Good

Dear Enzo,


Some people think that humans are born bad.  That they are selfish and evil and have to be taught to be good.  But I have never thought that was true.  And now that I have met you I know that isn't true.  Because, despite having two imperfect, often selfish, and decidedly flawed parents you are an astoundingly kind boy.  In fact, I can learn a lot about how Jesus wants us to relate to others by watching you.

•  You don't need attention all the time,  you are content to play by yourself and when someone gets down on the floor to play with you are beside yourself with joy. "oh my goodness, you want to play too?!  this is the best day of my life!" 
• Whenever we walk into a room you try to make eye contact with everyone in there, and if they look back at you they are rewarded with your 100 watt smile.  Everyone who meets you thinks you love them the best.
• You almost never cry without reason. Sometimes you are hungry and sometimes you are tired, and sometimes you are simply bored with your surroundings and would please like someone to help you move so you can get a better view. As soon as your needs are met you stop. 
• You always choose happy over sad or upset.  You try to smile even when you are exhausted and starving and you feel like you are at the end of your rope.  I have seen you flash a huge grin at someone you love, while simultaneously sobbing your heart out, and it is the most heartbreaking thing to see.  I spill my coffee in the morning and everyone pays for it the rest of the day because I am suddenly in a 'bad mood', but you, my sweet boy, can be hours overdue for nap and fall into a puddle of tears, but still giggle when I blow a raspberry on your stomach. 
• You never hold a grudge.  
• You approach each new day with curiosity and enthusiasm.  Your crazy happy face at 5:30am inspires me to get up and start my day, even though I inwardly groan and wonder how your father and I created such a complete morning person.

Enzo's philosophy on life:  Pay attention to people and make them feel special.  Choose happiness and joy over sadness or anger. Start fresh every day and prepare yourself for an exciting adventure. 

    I vow to try to be more like you, my sweet boy.


                                        Love,
                                       Momma.

Bath Time

Dear Enzo,


My favorite time of day is bath time.  


You love your bath more than anything and I love to watch you enjoy yourself so thoroughly.   We bought a blue bucket that fits you and your three small bath toys perfectly.  You happily splash around, drinking and choking on the water, stopping occasionally to look at me to make sure I am still watching you.  You spend most of your bath time trying to get your bath toys into your mouth,  with limited success.   You stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down, sometimes getting yourself wedged into the tub sideways. Tonight you discovered the delightful sound the shower curtain makes when your crinkle it.  But then you tried to put the curtain in your mouth, and despite working at it for several minutes you just couldn't succeed, and you finally got frustrated and bath time was over.


I think this is one of the most surprising things about motherhood, how fascinated I have become with everything that you are.  I will read Peek a Who to you over and over because you love it. I will lay and the floor and watch you roll over for as long as you want because you are so clearly proud of yourself every time you do.  I will rock and nurse you as long as it takes for you to fall asleep, because you sleep best when you fall asleep in my lap.  Your life has become my life, and you are not even 6 months old!  Imagine how it will be when you start loving soccer, or playing the guitar, or whatever talents and interests lie in that tiny head of yours.  I used to be critical of mothers who allowed their kids' interests to take over their lives, but now I understand - its not that your interests have taken over my life, it is that you have taken over my life.