Friday, February 21, 2014

Dear Ramsey: Six Months

Dear Ramsey,

Hey there sweet girl. You are over six months now. I have some explaining to do, don’t I? I can foresee what is going to happen in 20 years when you stumble upon your mom’s old blog. You’re going to be so excited when you read the first letter I ever wrote you when you turned one month old. You will become overwhelmed with emotion when you think about how great of a mom I was and you are going to be giddy with excitement to read all of your other letters. And then you’re going to discover a black hole until your second letter surfaces, this one, in which you are now six months old. So just in case you are frantically surfing cyberspace searching for letters from months 2-5, just stop, my dear. They don’t exist. SO SORRY.  My intentions were always there, but that’s about as far as I got to actually sitting down in front of a computer. I’ll always feel a tinge of guilt for not documenting the first sweetest months of your little life, but let me tell you this: at six months old, you have totally got it going on. I absolutely could not let another month pass, especially this past one, without letting you know the incredibly cute things you are up to these days.

First things first: the milestones. We are watching you hit those little baby milestones almost daily, and I’m trying to figure out how to MAKE IT STOP. There has to be a way. You started sitting up by yourself about two weeks ago.  I had a minimum of 10 pep talks in my head in which I had to convince myself that you did in fact still need me for life-sustaining things, and sitting up does not equal moving out of the house, and that you still love me. It was pretty intense there for a little while. Seeing you sit up all alone is actually kind of hilarious because you are TINY. You look more like a really well designed baby doll than a human being.

I have a little illustration to help you understand how petite you are. This afternoon, we were at a park with some great friends of ours and you chose that time to absolutely fill up your diaper. It was the kind of diaper situation in which the contents exploded all over your clothes, up your back, in your toes, etc. So that was cute. I went to work getting you all cleaned up and pulled your shirt over your head, which of course smeared poop all up in your hair, but thank heavens, I don’t think you even noticed. The sad part of this story is that after some time had passed, I had forgotten about the poop-in-the-hair incident, and kissed all over your head like I always do. You might think that’s gross, but it just didn’t really phase me. When you’re a mom, you’ll totally understand. It is just part of the job description. Anyway, I went to the car to dig through my emergency diaper bag hoping to find a change of clothes for you, and was not too terribly surprised to find that I had not updated the clothes since you were a newborn. There was a change of clothes for you, but it was a 0-3 months sleeper. I put that tiny little footed sleeper on you expecting to have to squeeze you in, but Ramsey Rice, it wasn’t even small for you. It was actually kind of big. And you are SIX MONTHS OLD. What what? My six month old baby girl still fits in nearly newborn clothes. But you know what? I LOVE IT and please, please don’t ever grow out of the nearly newborn clothes.

Next big milestone: ONE TOOTH! Your first little bottom tooth popped up yesterday and I had no idea you were even teething. I frequently check those gummy gums to see what was happening in your mouth and there was never even a hint of tooth. Honestly. In fact, earlier that day, you were with me at the dentist office as I was getting my very first cavity filled (which oh my gosh I hated it and the numbness was miserable and I was scared I would be eternally drooling down the right side of my face and I hope you never have to do it), and the dentist asked me if you had any teeth yet. I confidently replied with a “no way Jose, she’s nowhere close to getting teeth.” And I’m pretty sure that first little tooth pushed through like, one hour later. You are a great, low maintenance teether, apparently, and for that I am grateful.

You are a fabulous eater but the world’s worst bottle taker. Bottles are not even an option in that little mind of yours. So I gave up trying and will nurse you until it’s time to go straight to a cup of milk. You will be the healthiest breastfed baby on the block, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure most of your calories are coming from real food though. You eat two or three times a day and you are open to the craziest combos of food, like spinach and pears, or broccoli, zucchini and potatoes. Hopefully you will not follow in your brother’s footsteps of being the most boring food partakers to ever exist.

You are cooing, squealing with delight, and trying your darndest to interact with us. There is absolutely no way I can do justice to the relationship between you and your brothers. Clark is four and Griffin is two and they are your favorite people in your world. The honest truth of the matter is they are the only people who can make you belly laugh. I’ve tried EVERYTHING. I do everything they do to make you laugh but it doesn’t work because it’s me and not them. You love to laugh at them. You love even their presence in the same room as you. When they walk out of whatever room you are in, YOU CRY. Seriously. You cry. They definitely know how to make you feel better when you are sad. They constantly want to be near you. They are surprisingly very tender with you and love to softly pet on you and hold your hand and brush your hair. They eat their meals wherever you happen to be placed at the moment, which often means their breakfast is on the bathroom floor while I take a shower and you sit in your bouncer. It’s great family fun. Griffin’s favorite phrase right now is “Hi, Sissy!” He loves telling you hi. Over and over and OVER AGAIN. And believe me when I say it does not get old. I have to get it on video because it’s pretty dadgum sweet. Every morning when you wake up, Clark walks into your room with me and says, “Well good morning little Wams!” And then he climbs in your crib and nuzzles up to you and you kick your feet in delight (after you sneeze four times). Literally, you sneeze four times every morning after I turn the light on. It's as predictable as the sunrise.  Clark knows that you will laugh out loud every time he tells you that you have a poo poo diaper, even when you don’t have a poo poo diaper, so that has become a constant phrase in the household right now. You and those boys are a tight crew and they love you so much. Clark assures me that he will always protect you, he will never let anyone hurt you, and he is going to marry you one day. I melt. Like, all the time.

Up until about a month ago, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get to sleep through the night until you left for college (which hopefully you will chose said college less than 30 minutes away so you never have to actually leave us L). ß no idea how I did that frowny face. I was just pressing buttons and it happened. Neat. Anyway, you finally pulled through in the clutch and let me sleep like I’ve never slept before. You go to sleep at 7:30 and wake up around 6:30. Your bedtime routine is as follows: I feed you, put you in your crib WIDE AWAKE, kiss you, shut the light off, and close the door. And I never hear a peep from your room. One day, maybe in two years, I’ll start reading bedtime stories and singing songs and snuggling or whatever, but no way is that going to happen in our present household’s condition. I repeat: not going to happen. FYI it takes an act of God to get three little people in their respective beds with all the sippy cups of water and bathroom breaks and professional stalling techniques before the sun starts rising again. It’s not entirely unusual for you to squawk a little bit around 4:30 or 5 in the morning, but I just fumble my way into your room and pop a paci in your mouth and you’re out again. It’s nice. Not feeding you in the wee hours is really nice, actually. But again, I’ve had to remind myself that you are not about to attend your senior prom and you do still need me sometimes. My head spins when I think about you growing up. I don’t want it to happen. Not even a tiny little bit. Just stay where you are forever and ever amen.

Oh my little tiny Wams. I love you more than I never knew loving a daughter was possible. I confess to you and all the world that I am nothing less than obsessed with you. I always want you near. I crave your smell and your smile and your soft baby skin. I hold you and squeeze you all the time and you’re never going to learn to crawl or walk and it will all be my fault. I don’t care.  And don’t even get me started on how beautiful you are. I never had a doubt that you would be a beautiful baby girl because your brothers are kind of beautiful too. But you, my girl, take my breath away. You are dainty. Delicate. Lovely. Just stunning. Everyone else thinks so too. I'm not biased. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I have been separated from you. Sometimes I daydream about getting some time to myself…shopping, running, something spa related…but even in my daydreams you are always with me.  I never want to be more than an arms length away from you. That sounds pretty sad doesn’t it? It’s out of my control.

There are not a lot of guarantees in this life, sweet girl. I wish there was. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. But I can guarantee you this: daddy and I will ALWAYS be there for you. We are always on your side. You can trust us with your heart. The home we provide for you as you grow up will always be open to you, even when it’s time for you to step out in faith. I can guarantee you will always have a family who unconditionally loves you. I will always listen to you. I can guarantee you that everyday, until I take my last breath, I will pray for you. My prayer is the same for you and your brothers. It is that if nothing else, y’all will know the Lord. That you, Clark and Griffin will accept Him as your personal savior, and that your salvation is guaranteed.

Ramsey Anne Rice, our little Wam Bam, you are so special. The past six months have undoubtedly been the best yet. Every moment we spend with you is a gift from God that I absolutely do not deserve. His grace is beautiful.


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