Saturday, October 03, 2009

Toth Is 12 Weeks

We were at the Oak Park Farmer's Market Saturday, and the pumpkins and gourds and apples were out. The day was sunny but there were leaves on the ground. We were buying brownies from Nutmeg's school bake sale booth.

It was an appropriate way to mark Toth's big milestone, his 12th weekly "birthday." Twelve weeks ago, I told everyone who would listen, we came to this farmer's market trying to walk the baby out, bought brownies from the high school cheerleaders, all on the most perfect day of blooming summer, and then in a balmy twilight we walked through town and passed bunnies on the lush lawns and summer block parties, and walked right into the hospital and had ourselves a baby.

Now the leaves covering those lawns and my summer of love with little Toth is over.

I find that I await each kid's milestones with less eagerness and more regret. With your first, you can't wait for things to start happening, but with subsequent babies, you know that every stage lasts such a brief time (except for stages like teething and potty training lapses, which last 1,000 years each). You have less bandwidth to appreciate the stages as they rush past.

With Nutmeg, I had six months of maternity leave before I had to do much of anything besides take care of her and keep a nice home. With Pebbles, we took a couple of weeks before we dove back into house hunting. With Toth, I updated Frugalista from the hospital the morning after his birth and took him to BlogHer 11 days later.

So, here we are 12 weeks later. We have a baby boy who smiles at everyone, especially his sisters, especially Pebbles. He laughs from time to time -- he did it first, loudest and longest when I brought him to an SEO workshop at the Tribune Tower and I kept trying to shush him but I couldn't because when a tiny baby starts laughing how can you not laugh right back? He started reliably getting those little fists into his mouth just in the past week or so, and it's helped him a lot in the self-soothing department.

Despite the flurry of activity going on around him at all times -- Mommy to conferences and on TV and to San Francisco, Daddy off to work, Nutmeg to kindergarten, Pebbles to "her school" and (occasionally) to the potty -- these 12 weeks for Toth have been blissfully uneventful. He has never run a temperature (although he did have a little cold in SF), he's never cried for long stretches of time, been to the doctor only twice for checkups. He didn't get circumcised, and has so far never needed even a dropperful of baby Tylenol. He's just been fine.

(that there photo's by April Bowers)

I could mark the past 12 weeks in things undone in a less cheerful light. There are things that were on my to-do list for the week the girls were with their grandparents when we were waiting for his birth, things that are on my to-do list still, like order a new water filter for the refrigerator and get someone to clean the gutters. Then there's the little fact that we completely forgot to pick up a nice fancy copy of his birth certificate after he was born; we got three copies delivered today but they aren't as official-looking as the girls' certificates. And it's to my great consternation that Toth's birth story is still sitting on the back end of this blog as a draft.

He's not much trouble as babies go, but even an easy baby adds all kinds of new and more-urgent to-do items. So other things have fallen by the wayside. In fact, the wayside looks like a goddamn garage sale right now there is so much crap lying all over it.

He's sleeping on my lap as I type this, looking handsome and all color-coordinated in one of his 3-6 outfits -- sleepers in the daytime is so 0-3, don't you think? And this is where he has been during all this time that I've been forgetting to do things and not getting to them and actually accomplishing a lot in terms of word count and parenting three kids and all. He's been with me, on my lap, in my arms, in the sling. We've been apart for about an hour so far, that I can think of, on three or four occasions.

So that's something not to regret: In 12 weeks I've stayed locked in an almost-constant embrace with someone I love. It will never happen again; this is my last baby, and now that the fourth trimester has ended he will spend more and more time physically on his own.

So, no regrets, really. Just cuddles.


Bert said...

How lovely! Thank you for the sweet blog entry. You no longer owe me. :)

Carrie said...

LOL -- this goes for Bert and all you readers: Do hold me accountable. It helps me get stuff done.

LWWB said...

i love to hear your updates and can't wait to read them, but never feel pressure to write when you need to rest.

Kori said...

What a great post. Since the chances are so slim that I'll ever have another baby, I tend not to spend much time being wistful for newborn snuggling. That said, the one thing I wish I could live over is that period immediately following birth---there's so much more I would know to enjoy. So glad you have. He is super cute.

Sara said...

i can't get over that pic of him smiling. what a doll.

there are moments when i miss the 4th trimester, too. but each phase has its wonderful points.