the big transformation

four months
17 lbs, 2 oz and 24 inches
90th (!) percentile for weight
25th percentile for height

This gorgeous guy had his four month well baby check up today and it was boys only as Daddy took little bitsy to the doctor all by himself. (I wonder if we can still call him little bitsy after this weigh-in.) While I was sorry to miss the appointment, I wasn't sorry to miss the round of shots. It hurts my heart to think about those.

For those who are counting, Jack is up about 5 pounds since his 2 month appointment and has grown a whopping fourth of an inch. So at 2 months he was tall and skinny like Daddy and now he's short and fat like me! The truth is I find this growth reassuring. He's definitely getting enough of what he needs to thrive.

We're going to wait a little while longer for solids, given that he seems to be getting plenty of calories.

In fact, one might even call him:

fantastic four!

Dear Jack--

Someday, when you can't wait to greet your daddy at the door for a game of touch rugby, I want to remember this time in your life--this period that is bittersweet in its brevity--in which the sun (or is it son?) rises and sets between you and me. Your little face is the first one I really see each morning and mine is often the last you see at night. That said, you hate to go to bed. You get this from me. Your daddy does not mind bedtime one single bit and on the rare occasion that he does fall asleep on the couch before he takes himself off to his room, it takes only a word or two and he shuffles away. You are not like this. You require more than a gentle nudge. You require lulling and singing and bouncing and shushing and still sometimes we find that the best thing is to let you tire yourself out (just a little) with tears before bedtime. Believe me, I understand the urge to fight it. I have been rebelling against bedtime for decades now. I have also been tired for about 25 years. So, I try to be patient with you because I know that even when you can't keep your eyes open, it's nice to feel like you are still in the thick of things, that you won't miss out on anything good, that you are safely within arm's reach of the action. For this reason, as we jiggle and rock and lay down beside you, I often find myself whispering in your ear that you are indeed safe and snug.

After all, we haven't given up swaddling you--even though you are probably getting too long and strong for this. It's just that your startle reflex still seems strong and it causes your little arms to fly over your head and wake you up at the sound of a loud laugh. And baby, there's plenty to laugh about in this house!

Actually, while you have a smile for just about everyone, you have been slow to laugh. We've gotten a couple of "heh heh"s out of you, but only after dancing around and shaking our heads like fools. Basically, you go in big for physical humor at the moment. On the other hand, you aren't really a fan of other people's laughter. Several times this month, a group of people has started to laugh around you and it makes you jump and cry. I am reminded of how it felt to say something in a crowd of grown-ups and have them burst out laughing when I meant to be serious. It can be hard to be a kid.

You're beginning to hold your own though--and some of my stuff along with it! You reached for some papers on my desk the other day and it was one more reminder of why your days at the office are numbered. (even though we really do love having you there. you have won the heart of even the most hardened baby-digusted. it's that cheeky little smile.) I'm excited that you'll spend the summer with Daddy and I'm excited to be able to type out a four line email in under an hour again, but I will miss you all day long. I just know it.

Anyway, you reach for things and grab them and bring them to your mouth. Often, you look like a puppy with a chew toy as you shake your head and a sad stuffed bunny writhes between your gums. (As an aside, I fear you may be an early teether.) You are ferocious in your determination to get what you want or to get going.

When things get really tough and you just won't settle, we take a walk outside. You watch for birds and cats and squirrels and suddenly you are quiet and contemplative. This makes me think that Daddy's prediction about you (before you were even born) could well come true. You may just be an eco warrior based in Australia. Well, if you are an eco warrior in Australia, little bunny, I will be peace that brings you home again. At least for Christmas!

love you always and always,
mommy

reading is fun-da-mental

jumping for the vertically challenged

My dad grew up in a small town. My mom grew up in a really big city, the kind that eats small towns for lunch. I was born in that same monstrous metroplex. This accident of birth may explain why my mom and I love sprawling malls and chlorinated pools. Meanwhile, my dad sort of secretly believes that the whole world knows that he is Roseby Wright's son and therefore should be afforded certain rights and privileges--the last room at a packed hotel, the freedom to pause rather than stop at an intersection. It's an attitude that amounts to: "civis campbellsvillus sum."

When I was a little girl, we spent at least a week each summer in Dad's hometown. We ate gigantic tomatoes and went calling on people and hugged on teeny-tiny great-aunts. I had a matching pair of them--Mae and Bootsie. They were my grandfather's older sisters and though they were in their seventies by the time I was born, they always seemed like perfect playmates. This was in part because of their propensity to get the giggles and in part because they were about my size. My grandfather, all 5'6'' of him, towered over them.

What can I say? We Wrights are a short people. So it should come as no surprise that once, we were sitting down to a meal at my grandparents' table and I wasn't really able to reach my plate properly. I needed a booster seat, but this was the 80s and people didn't have such things in their own homes. They didn't have bouncy seats either. It was the dark ages.

When my mother asked if we could use the phone book (a tried and true substitute in the big city) my grandparents looked baffled. Mom repeated the request until they acquiesced. The county phone book was about as wide as a standard bible and not a whole inch thick. Cue the giggles.

Jack has just about reached the age where he can start enjoying some slightly more "active" toys. He's just shy of four months and definitely more alert every day. He also reaches for things constantly and sometimes control his hands enough to grab and object and inevitably put it in his mouth.

One of my major sources of mother guilt is that when I am at work, we are always together and I get the chance to cuddle him and nurse him, but we don't do a lot of serious play. I think he gets bored by the end of the day and I know he gets tired of moving from one reclining position to another. So last night when we got home, we pulled out the jumperoo to give it a try and found a familiar problem. (Note the distance between feet and floor.)

Lucky for us, we remembered a familiar solution. It's just a good thing that our city is growing so fast!

i wanna be a butterfly.

Last year, Richard and I spent Easter weekend relaxing and enjoying time with my mom and dad. I was tired, very tired. But I work hard, stay up late, struggle with anemia. There have been times in my life when i mistook unconsciousness for exhaustion. A few yawns here and there as we antiqued--well, i just didn't think it was a big deal.

I wore a yellow dress to church and in Ruth-girl fashion, I really thought I looked good. I had lost a few pounds (and was valiantly trying to lose a few more). I felt stylish and svelt-ish. Until...

Until a woman in the congregation came up to greet me after church and asked me outright if I was pregnant. No, I said, confused. She pointed at my mid-section and said, "Oh I was just sure that was a baby bump. Are you positive?" I absolutely was. The answer was no. Even after she asked me two more times and I could feel the tears welling up. I could hardly speak by the end of the encounter, so embarrassed was I that I had ever thought I looked good.

Four days later, I found out I was pregnant and had been for *several* weeks.

I've struggled all my life with my own self-image, with an inability to be satisfied with the person that I am when it comes to the way that I look. So many times, I have thought "someday, when I am down to my ideal, i'll have a new lease on life." But for the months that followed last Easter, I found that I had to take "dying to self" to a whole new level. First I was nauseated, then I was starving. First, I slept all the time, then I couldn't sleep at all. I was sore and swollen.

By December, I tried NOT to look when the nurse measured my weight. I felt heavy with the burden, not only of a full term baby, but with the sense that I was ever further from that new life, that ideal me.

Then Jack was born and every day he is cheekier and funnier and more chunkalicious. Jack loves me just the way I am. He beckons me to forgive these wide hips because the balance him perfectly. He shows me how to forgive this stomach because it was his home for nine months. He teaches me how to forgive this whole soft body because for now, it is his favorite place to sleep, his source of nourishment and comfort, his place of peace. That's a lot for any body to take on.

It would be a lie to say that I'm not working on my weight, that I don't sometimes look in the mirror and think "slug." Sure, I still live in fear of the stranger (or friend) who asks about my baby bump because yes, I still have one. But I also have this new life.

It isn't the transformation that I was longing for last year, but it is just the change I needed.

we are family.

easter bunny 101

"you won't believe it, but mommy and daddy say that there is this big bunny, right, and he
brings all the little children a basketful of goodies on easter morning.
And here's the best part..."

"and these 'treats.' Well the bunny brings chocolate and eggs and chocolate eggs.
and not breast milk. not one drop.
i know. totally unbelieveable."

"please sir, may i have a little more?"

no foolin'...so in love.

the incredible journey

"who me, center of attention? i don't know what you're talking about!"

We made our first trip to Corpus Christi to Bibi and Grandaddy's house for Easter. While Jack is a good traveler and a veteran of I-35 S, having made many trips to San Antonio, this trip was twice as long and we had to leave on a schedule that had little to do with Jack's sleep habits and a lot to do with Daddy's work day.

Our strategy was simple: feed Jack loads and hope he sleeps. He is a fairly obliging boy and so he did all of the eating and *most* of the desired sleeping. Still, we didn't get in until almost 10. We found Nanny and Bibi waiting with baited breath and Grandaddy still working.

Jack, bolstered by a nice long nap in the car and by an adoring audience, turned on the charm and enjoyed hanging out with the grands for more than an hour. He smiled. He drooled. He did everything he could to keep us all at the table so that he wouldn't have to go to bed. He is his mother's son.

And for his final trick (and to wear him out) we put him on the table so that he could show Nanny and Bibi how he can inch himself forward by shear force of will, a few growls and grunts, and the heaviness of that sweet big head. He moved a whole foot before we knew it.

I'm looking forward to many years of cheering him on.