Things I Want to Remember

Dear Dexter,

My math isn't the greatest (don't tell Grandpa, because he's a MATH TEACHER, although he still counts on his fingers, too) but I do believe, if I counted correctly, that you have officially been outside of my body for longer than you were inside it. And check it out! I can keep you alive in both environments! Go, me!

So inside my body in 9 months you gained 8 pounds, 4 oz and grew 22 inches. Outside my body in nine months you gained 12 pounds, 12 oz (putting you at 21 pounds) and grew 8 inches (putting you at 30 inches). Your relative amount of pounds vs inches grown has resulted in a baby who is no longer a scrawny skinny boy, but rather a child who has a little pot belly. It is round and squishy and very zerbit-able. And yes, I just made up that word.
I want to be sure I remember some things you are doing these days, because I know you'll never again be this cute. Oh, sure, you'll be cute. Maybe more cute. Maybe even less cute. But never again will you be quite this kind of cute. Quite this NINE MONTH cute.

I want to remember how you've started humming while you crawl. It's a nice, sing-song kind of hum.

I want to remember how every time we walk in to the house your head swivels around until you spot CoCo, and then you shriek with delight (at least I hope it's delight, and not a "DAMN, that stinky old dog is still here?" kind of scream).
I want to remember how your face breaks in to the best smile when your Daddy comes home from work in the evening.

I want to remember how you do a little panting kind of breathing when you are trying to crawl really fast. Like when your Daddy is chasing you down the hallway.

I want to remember how you like to kiss the baby in the mirror. And the dishwasher. And the sliding glass door.

I want to remember how you make a little "mmmmmm" sound when you kiss Mama, like the sound I make when I kiss you. Except your kisses aren't so much kisses, but rather open-mouthed gumming, with some drool thrown in. Ah, never mind. That sounds like a kiss.

I want to remember how you have suddenly discovered your volume button. And have cranked it up to 10+++. And now just randomly scream for no good reason. Like when we're in the middle of Wal-Mart on a Friday afternoon.
I want to remember the times that you are in your car seat and I look in the mirror and you have your shoe (still on your foot) in your mouth. Shoes are, apparently, delicious.

I want to remember how you'll just randomly start the "aachk" game when we're in the car. Dad and I, of course, will say "aachk" right back to you. But you somehow always seem to get the last word.

I want to remember how you're always wiggling while nursing. How you'll reach down and grab your foot. Or your sock. And sometimes switch between sucking on a nipple and sucking on your toes. I sometimes wonder which tastes better.

I want to remember how, at the end of a bath when you are laying on your back, you always get a big grin on your face, then start kicking like a madman. And then between kicks, pee. Always entertaining!
I want to remember how you giggle when it's time to blow bubbles in swim class. And then you stick your tongue out and try to drink the water. Not exactly what we had in mind, but at least you're not afraid to get your face wet.

I want to remember how you were under the table playing, fell and bashed your head, started crying, and came crawling up to me to bury your head in my lap. I don't really want to remember how then there was blood on my shirt, from your mouth. But I didn't find any large chunks of tongue laying on the ground anywhere, so I am assuming you are ok.
I want to remember how you've started pulling yourself up on anything - a chair, a table, a gate, CoCo's back, Mama's pant leg. And how you've mastered climbing up a stair. Going back down is a different story.

I want to remember you just like this, at nine months and change, because you are ridiculously cute, and cuddly, and giggly, and smiley, and shriek-y. I love you just like this, and yet I can't wait to love you at ten months, eleven, even TWELVE months. When you'll suddenly be huge, and no longer my baby. Although I think you'll always be my baby.

xoxo,
Mama