3 Months

Dear Aven,
Are you sure you aren't 15 years old? Because sometimes I can't believe you're just a little baby. In this past month you have astounded us with the things you do and the strength of your will.


Let's start with the page-turning, shall we? Really, Aven....you are three months old. There is no need to turn the pages when I'm reading to you. COME ON! Stay a baby at least for a little longer? You have also started grabbing and holding toys, putting them in your mouth, and "talking" more than ever. One of your favourite times of the day is when we strip you down to put your pyjamas on. You flail your little naked body around on the change table and whack your feet down like a pony. You pull your knees up, I tap the bottoms of your feet, and you do a full leg extension. Over and over again. You know it's a game and you can't get enough of it!
Lately I wonder what happened to the sleepy infant who used to fall asleep in the carseat or in the stroller. She is nowhere to be found! Now I have little miss hyper-alert world-conquerer in my buggy, and NO SHE WILL NOT GO TO SLEEP! HOW DARE YOU! Everyone we meet comments on how alert and awake you are, and they don't know the half of it. Ever heard of a nap, dear? What's that? You only take catnaps? Ah, yes. I've noticed.



Something I hated about this month is that we started putting you to sleep in your own bed, in your own room at night. It needed to happen, though, and I like having some time to myself now after you go to bed. The first night I did this, at about 10 weeks, you were an angel. I, however, was a wreck. I barely slept all night, thinking every little murmur on the monitor was you freaking out. But you slept wonderfully, have never looked back, and you actually sleep in longer blocks of time now. I must confess though that almost every night I wake up thinking I'm holding you, and when I feel a lump of empty sheets, I have a moment of panic, thinking I've lost you or hurt you. It's an awful feeling. But it reminds me of the amazing couple of months that we shared a bed, and how much I will always cherish that special connection. Your father said there was nothing in the world like coming into the room and seeing us asleep together.

This month you've started watching Baby Einstein's "Meet the Orchestra", and you're hooked. You sit staring in fascination, moving your hands around in the air and making noises at the tv. You also poop every time the tuba plays. I'm pretty sure it isn't a coincidence.

Love,
Mommy