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Tuesday, August 31st, 2010
Today Ruby is three months old. In 92 days, she has grown about 4.5 pounds and almost 4 inches. She’s on the verge of outgrowing 3 months clothes and size 1 diapers. She has deliciously chubby thighs; long, dark lashes totally unlike my and her dad’s stubby, pale ones; a new forest of light brown fuzz on her head. She smiles frequently, chats copiously (especially if you echo her ah-goos and spitty ah-gggggs), laughs and squeals occasionally. When we get up in the morning, she yells good-naturedly as we walk through the house, as if announcing, “Here I am!”
She watches cartoons, wrestles with her blankie and tries to stuff it in her mouth, chews on fingers (her own and ours), swivels her head from side to side to take in all the sights as we carry her around, tries to sit up in our arms, soaks the whole world in her drool, and escapes from her swaddle with maddening ease.
She loves going outside, looking at ceiling fans (unfortunately we have none), taking baths, kicking her legs vigorously, riding in the Moby wrap, and sitting in the Bumbo seat. She loathes coming back in from outside, riding in cars, napping, and being ignored for even a moment.
She has many nicknames – Angel, Sweet Girl, Chatty Rue, Sugar Bear (that one’s Daddy’s), Miss Demanding, Fussypants. Her favorite songs are “Henry the VIII” (which makes her smile) and “You Are My Sunshine” (which makes her sleepy).
She makes me blissfully happy – I got a fortune cookie at a Japanese restaurant this weekend that said, “Your dearest dream will come true,” and I immediately thought, “It already has.” – but every day I’m still very ready for D to get home and take her off my hands for a while.
In just three months, my whole life has changed. Most of it is good, great even – when I pick her up after some time apart, I feel a warmth spreading in my stomach just like falling in love; we actually save more money than before because I have no time to shop and no desire for much of anything; we laugh more; our extended family has grown closer. The few bad parts – less time together for me and D; less time for work and for the animals; and the stress of being the primary caregiver for such a needy, sleep-hating little thing – are worth it entirely every time her tiny lips form a gorgeous smile, or adorable pout, for that matter.
It’s hard to believe three months have already passed together and that in just this amount of time more, she’ll be six months old. It’s harder to believe that it’s been only a year since the unpleasant events of last summer and to remember what it felt like to want this so bad and to be hopeless. Now there is nothing but hope, for all the wonderful things my girl will do and become.
Ok, I’ve been checking every few days to see if you had an update. I laughed because my youngest loved ceiling fans also. Wal-Mart check out had them overhead and he would just watch them. I am so happy that you have your baby girl. (Even though we have never met.–I have been to Eutaw though.) Enjoy!