Dear Leland: 6 months

Dear Leland,
I always intended to write you a letter for every month of your life like your Aunts Haley and Kelly have so beautifully done for your cousins. Today, however, you are six months old, (!!!) and this is the first letter I have to show for myself. I really do regret this, and though my excuse is inadequate, I will submit it presently: every spare moment I have had, I have invariably spent kissing your giant, irresistibly poofy cheeks. Even now, I am tempted to put down this computer and take you from Daniel and smooch those chubby baby jowls and your abundance of other fat rolls. Please excuse my utter inability to get things done. I can't help myself. I'm ruined.

Hiii, y'all.

During your sixth month of life, you had quite a few adventures. For starters, you took your first ever vacation. Mrs. Frosty and Jill, Jill's little boys William and David, Gam and the two of us all packed our cars and went to the beach for a few days. You were perfect. You traveled like a champion, slept like an angel, and when we went down to the beach, you acted like you'd been lounging on beaches since the beginning of time. You would sit in your swing under the canopy we had set up, and for no discernable reason, you would just squeal and laugh all by yourself over there. You loved it. I had expected the wind and all the new smells and sounds and the brightness of the sunshine to overwhelm you, but you took it all in stride, so much so that within minutes of being there, I decided to take you down to the water in an attempt to dip your toes in. This did not go according to plan, and I would like to offer my sincerest apologies for what happened next, when I squatted down at the shoreline, planted your feet in the sand, and realized all too late that a particularly boisterous wave was on its way to splash up on all 24 inches of your body, leaving you sandy, salty and wet. To my amazement, even this didn't seem bother you in the least, and I thereby pronounced you the most easy going baby in all the land.  (Even still, I'm so sorry for dunking you in the ocean.)

After the beach, we went to Gam and Geez's house where you enjoyed your first four wheeler ride with Geez, Gam taught you to blow raspberries, and you hung out with your Aunt Kelly and cousins Clark and Griffin.

You and Geez embarking on your 50th four wheeler ride in 2 days

There's a phenomenon we Rices like to call "mooshka," which is when, upon exposure to something extraordinarily tiny and cute, an intense urge washes over the observer, who begins feeling strangely, almost aggressively compelled to squeeze the object of his affection much tighter than he ought. In a survey of the general population, half of participants responded, "YES!!! I know exactly what you mean!" while the other half looked at me fearfully, and slowly backed away, clutching their infants and small pets protectively. Anyway, mooshka clearly runs in our family since we all felt the need to coin a term for it, and that's why, when a 2-year-old Clark saw you and was smitten by your pure angelic beauty, he clenched his teeth, his breathing became labored, and he growled, "HEEEYR BEHR-BEHR LEELERRR!" while slowly reaching for you with trembling hands. Kelly and I recognized these symptoms, and promptly removed you from the vicinity. During our visit, every time Clark saw you, he would behave in a similar fashion. This eventually culminated in Clark, upon being invited to kiss your face before bedtime, biting you affectionately on the ear instead. It couldn't have been more than a nibble since you didn't so much as blink, but after that, anytime Clark approached you Kelly would tell him, "Whatever you are about to do to Leland... just do it to Griffin." Once, after being thus instructed, Clark obligingly planked atop an unsuspecting Griffin, who remained entirely unfazed. It was the cutest thing ever. I love how even with his own baby brother around, Clark was so freaking excited about seeing his baby cousin that he was about to burst. I am really looking forward to seeing you and all your cousins as a bunch of elementary school kids running around in the woods of Oloh, Mississippi together, jumping in the lake, building forts and getting into trouble. Cousins forever!

You and Griffin share a tender moment. Mooshka to the max!

A couple of weeks after we returned home from Mississippi, our church had a baby dedication service and the vast majority of your entourage drove to Nashville from distant lands to celebrate. After the service we had a barbecue at our house with lots of family and friends, and you spent the afternoon being a social butterfly and getting held by lots of people who love you, which has got to be one of your favorite things in the world.

From left to right: Everybody in the world.

 Granny lovin'

You are now at an age where you are developing strong, observable opinions about the world around you. Some of it is not to your liking, and there are a few things things that you find absolutely despicable, like rice cereal, the food processor (or anything that makes sudden loud noises,) and The Booger Sucker of Doom. But what's most fun about this age is watching you come to love the things you love. Here are a few of your favorite things right now:

Daniel
Let me tell you, Leland; you are some kinda crazy about your daddy. You would stare at his face for days if he would only sit still long enough, and nothing delights you more than when the two of you play together. You will also sit quietly and contentedly in Daniel's lap without any additional entertainment much longer than you would ever tolerate such an uneventful stint in mine. Daniel usually travels out of town a few times a month for work. While he's gone, I am not entirely sure if you realize what you're missing (such a complex emotion would be more difficult to communicate nonverbally than, say, hunger, which you tell me about by opening your mouth like a baby bird and violently ramming your face repeatedly into the area from which you are accustomed to receiving milk, often growling ferociously.) but you usually get a pretty bad case of the grumps during Daniel's absence, and when he comes back you light up like a Christmas tree. It's so sweet to me to see how much you love your daddy, and I'll let you in on a little secret: I happen to know he loves you more.


The Johnny Jump Up

Sweet mercy, child, do you love that Johnny Jump Up. I put you in it for the first time a couple of weeks ago and you enjoyed pivoting on your toes, but when you finally figured out about the jumping part, it became your new favorite pastime, and I expect you will still be bouncing in that thing when you are 18. You are so cute hopping around in it that I don't know what to do with myself. I usually end up squealing wildly while you jump in an attempt to amp you up even more. I can only hope nobody ever hides a camera in our house for any investigative purposes, because they would confirm that I am, indeed, a moron. I make a complete fool of myself when I want to entertain you, which is approximately ten times per second.

Bathing in the glow of the fish tank

The Fishes
Since you were under one month old, you have been very, very into the saltwater tank in your room, which contains several types of coral, a couple of clown fish, and incidentally, 2 sea urchins who must have lived as eggs in some of the live rock Daniel put in there until one day they just appeared, seemingly out of thin air. Daniel and I have often held you and stood in front of the tank, where your attention remains undivided for as long as it is in sight. It's bright and colorful and it has fish that swim and little fan-like motors that blow the coral like trees in the wind, and you find it absolutely mesmerizing. The only trouble with this is that during the day when you're supposed to be napping, you have been known to squirm your way into a position from which you can observe the fishes, which you do quietly and reverently for the entirety of your nap.

Hey girl...

The Ladies

Leland, you are a little dreamboat. Everywhere I go, women fall over themselves and swoon before melting into puddles of goo, saying things like, "I cannot say no to your fuzzy baby head!" and, "Your tiny little mouth is the teeniest of tiny mouths!" (These are both actual excerpts from conversations I have overheard between you and our friend Hannah Hester.) You are clearly aware that the ladies of the world are silly putty in your tiny baby hands, which is probably why you've developed such an affinity for this particular demographic and have learned to pander to them, rapidly becoming quite the flirtatious little charmer. You enjoy fluttering your lashes and feigning shyness, flashing giant, toothless grins just before bashfully burying your face in whomever's chest is most conveniently located before you. I am not above being bamboozled into making the same kind of sloppy displays as other women, by the way. Daniel and I both like to narrate your thoughts, (Constantly. It's actually a little weird, I'm afraid.) and Daniel has often looked over at me cooing hysterically over you and said, "Mommy gives me whatever I want!" And alas, it is true. I do do that.

Nanners
The first food we fed you was bananas, which may have been a mistake. The only way we can get you to eat anything else now is by mixing bananas in. I need not go on: this video of your first taste of nanners says it all:

I just put you to bed and said goodnight to my new six month old. We both enjoy going through our night time routine together. First, I change you and blow on your belly. Then I take you to the crib where we play one last game of peek-a-boo before I wrap you up in your blanket and give you your pacifier. We head to the chair where I read you "Goodnight Moon," then I sing you a lullaby, rock you and put you in the bed. When I'm singing to you, I love watching your face. You make a weak attempt to fight sleep sometimes with these tiny little grunts, and you look up at me sleepily and say, "heeehhhhh?" a few times. Then your whole body relaxes, and as you start to doze, your sleepy eyes roll back. What I love most about bedtime is feeling you nuzzle close to me for comfort. These days, you are growing so strong and independent that I have to take those moments where I can get them, which is every night before bed and on occasion, when you wake up from a nap and are extra sleepy.

I can hardly believe you are a six month old. I remember the first day of Leland Elijah like it was yesterday, and yet, everything from before you were here seems far-off and hazy. You are such a gift. Our days are infinitely sweeter and brighter with the joy that you bring to our world. The little details in our lives seem to hold a lot more significance, too, knowing that the habits we form and the individual choices we make day by day will all ultimately contribute to what kind of home you will grow up in, and what you will learn about the world from us. Everything seems profoundly more important, because you are so important and beloved. I hope that with God's help, ours will be a home where you will always know that you are loved unconditionally. I hope that you'll never hide who you are or how you feel, or even what you've done, because you'll know nothing can change how much you are loved. And it's a lot, Leland. A whole lot.

Love,
Mama

Ramblings of a Sleep Deprived Mother

Well, I am beginning to emerge from the foggy abyss that is new parenthood, and I think I can finally pull myself together enough to blog. Maybe. We'll see.

For the record, this isn't the first time I've tried to blog. Most of my attempts have involved me staring stupidly at the screen, which is occupied by a single, lonely word:

Baby

Followed by a sad little blinking cursor.

Then, several hours later, a stroke of genius will leave me with this tremendous improvement:

Baby,,, I had had hem.

I wish I was kidding, because I would have written all kinds of brilliant, moving prose about the joys of motherhood by now. But as much of a joy as it is, (And it is. It is pure joy.) it has rendered me quite a remarkable specimen of dumb dumb. Let me count the ways...

1. I now call Wilco "Leland" every. single. time.

2. At first I called Leland "Wilco," which was significantly worse. I'm glad it started going the other direction, since one of these precious little babies will eventually be able to understand what I'm saying.

3. I leave my phone everywhere I go. Kroger, the pediatrician's office, church...

4. I constantly forget very basic vocabulary words like "pillow" and "paper."

5. If you play me a song by my favorite artist that I listened to a gozillion times in my former life before Leland was born, I will strain myself so hard I may have a brain hemorrhage trying to remember who wrote it.

6. HOWEVER, I walk around with the simple, nursery grade number from Leland's bouncer stuck in my head all day. And I hum it while I do stuff around the house? Because that is my music now?

Maybe I am way off about this, but I feel like I was a pretty cool person at one point. I mean, for about 10 years there I had a personality and everything! I had preferences and opinions and good taste in music... Evidently, that has all been wiped clean. My new favorite book is "Goodnight Moon." I didn't used to care much for "Goodnight Moon." It wasn't part of my childhood, I wasn't emotionally attached. But now, it's my G.D. favorite. Because it's the one that gets Leland the heck to sleep, that's why.

7. When I mean to say "meet," I spell it "meat." When I mean to say "week," I spell it "weak." Avocado? "Avacado." I was an English major, people. When my grammar starts going, you know something is up. And I almost spelled it "grammer."

8. I am completely incapable of cooking anymore, especially baking, because when I try to follow a recipe I lose my place and put in the same ingredient up to 5 times. It requires an remarkable level of concentration for me to avoid doing this, and I almost never succeed.

9. I use Daniel's toothbrush on the daily. (Daniel, if this is the first you're hearing about this, I'm truly sorry.)

And I would have no way of knowing for certain if this is the first Daniel was hearing about this because...

10. I tell Daniel the same things. Over. And over. And over. I will tell him something, and then about ten seconds later, I will turn around and repeat the same dadgum thing again. This is because I no longer have the mental capacity to distinguish between what I'm saying in my head and what I'm saying aloud.

It's crazy what sleep deprivation can do to a person. I recently sleep walked for the first time. Well, I assume it was the first time... I obviously wouldn't have any way of knowing if it had happened before, or if it's happened since. The only reason I know it happened that particular time was because I woke up with Leland in the bed next to me. He was just laying there, looking at me, kinda confused but content nonetheless. Like, "Ohai mom, why did you wake me up and bring me here? I mean it's cool, I like snugglin and all, I's just wonderin dat's all, you don't hafta put me back in my crib or anything..." (Yes, I'm aware that I sound like I'm channeling Bil Keane, but that's how Leland talks. Get used to it.) At first I assumed that he had cried, and Daniel gotten him and brought him in for me to feed. I asked Daniel, "how long has he been here?" He didn't know. I asked him, "didn't you bring him in here?" Nope. "yes you did." Nope, he said. One of us was sleep walking. I immediately retorted, "Well must have been you because I don't sleep walk." That's when I noticed that he was under the covers and I wasn't. I must have dreamed Leland was crying and gone and gotten him- he clearly had not been crying and was not hungry. So anyways... now I sleep walk. While carrying my infant. Which is totally terrifying and I try not to think about it too hard or ask questions like what if I tripped or decided to go for a little dream drive. We just try not to think about those things in this family. We need to get some sleep at night in this household so we choose to ignore the very real possibility that I could get up one night and take Leland for a stroll into the Cumberland River.

So obviously, I didn't just break my blogging hiatus because my IQ spiked. I'm still a total sleep deprived basket case. What motivates me to blog now, after all this time, is that over the past weak, (<--- SEE??? I wasn't kidding about that!) I have become increasingly aware of how crazy fast Leland is growing up. It is insane. He is four months old already. And he's doing all kinds of new cool tricks he couldn't do when he was born, and now he's teething, and his feet are gigantic, and all around he is just this awesome little dude who's getting awesomer by the day... but I can't stand it! I love this stage and yet it's impossible for me to be totally content because I am far too aware of how fast the time is passing, and I know it will be over so soon. I just want him to stay like this for... ever! Ok, I don't know, maybe not forever. but at least for like 10-15 years. But instead, one third of his first year has already passed in a flash, and time keeps moving and it just makes me want to cry. I have recently discovered what I want out of life, and it's very simple: to have a baby, always. I am going to have so many babies because I am addicted to having a baby. Sorry Daniel we're having 20 kids. I know you didn't sign up for this, but it's your fault for marrying a crazy person. Now this is your lot in life. The best thing you can do is just accept it, and move on.

Anyway... all this to say, I'm realizing that I need to be writing about Leland during this time to help me hold on to these sweet, fleeting moments with him as our tiny baby boy. He is amazing, and so funny and full of joy. There are so many details about his little personality that mean the world to me and that I want to cherish forever. I'm afraid I'll forget. I want to have them recorded somewhere, even if I can't form a coherent sentence to save my life.

So please, allow me to tell you about our baby.

(To be continued...)