one month.

Jack,

You are one month old now. It's a bit unreal we made it this far in one piece.

You still have all of daddy's features and they are growing ever more prominent. I'm pretending like you have my eyes, but I think I'm kidding myself. Your eyes are growing wider, you are getting little chubs on your legs, and your hair is getting darker and longer by the day.

You like to make use of your hands. You cup them together when you are in your car seat and always have them intertwined somehow. I think this means you will be a religious person or at the very least contemplative. When you are swaddled you always hold on to the top edge of the blanket and when I'm trying to get a stubborn you to fall sleep you grab on to the neck of my shirt (and pull hard).

In the last week or so, you have started to respond to voices. If I get mine high pitched and love-y enough, you smile at me. It's pretty awesome and makes me laugh, which makes my voice go higher, which in turn makes you smile more. It's the best little cycle. You are happiest when you are on your changing table looking out the window or sitting with daddy on the couch.

You are very alert. I feel like the term 'alert' is used by grandmothers and seasoned mothers when they compliment your baby. But now I understand what they are saying. You really just take everything in around you with the widest eyes I have ever seen. You no longer go cross eyed like you did when you were brand new in the world. I miss that, but I guess I'd worry if that was a permanent look.

You are eating and sleeping very well. Some nights you give mom and dad 6 hours of straight sleep  (one night you did 7, and I had to check to make sure you were still alive). But most nights you wake every 4 or 5 hours, which I still think makes me blessed. I do not attribute that success to anything I'm doing, but rather to your compassion and love toward your parents. Maybe the guilt after the witching evening hours gets to you and you want to make it up to us. 

You have a temper. Oh boy. It's sort of shocking. You can see the change come across your face, and it all happens within seconds. I used to panic and rush around to make the crying stop, but I've seemed to have grown immune to the noise. We have an understanding that I will go as fast as I can and you will just keep reminding me to move faster.

Your new nicknames over the last few weeks, given to you by your father, are "tiniest man in the world" and "saddest boy alive." The former when you are happy and content, and the latter when you are miserable and crying.

It's been fun getting to know you. Love!

Love,
Mom