Lincoln: Nine Months



 

 

Nine Months

August 2015

 

Little Buddy,

 

You're nine months old and it's almost time for our summer in Colorado to come to an end.

 

Still I don't know how much you weigh or how tall you are, still no well-visits here in the middle of nowhere. But we do have our fair share of mountains and rivers and lakes. And friends and adventures.

 

 

In this season we get to simply enjoy life around us. Yes, there are times when Mom checks the cleaning supply inventory and requests POs, but mostly it's just me and you, and Dad, and 45 other staff members, and 11 families, and 50 plus teenagers, and at times a few backpackers. And while that seems like a lot of people, it's not. Here in Colorado you've got a tiny little family.

 

 

You've got shirts to match Dad for almost every day. And I take pictures of you doing almost everything. You have a camp staff name tag that you wear up here because really you put in a lot of 'camp hours' even though you're snoozing before the fun's over. Camp life and baby life seem to go very well together.

 

 

We wake up and get to snuggle with Dad. Sometimes I've got my act together enough that we all walk out of the door at the same time and head to the morning meeting. You come along and sit at the meeting pretending to listen, but mostly shaking your head no at all that is discussed. I'm pretty sure you don't disagree with everything, you just like the way you get attention when you say 'no.' Let me tell ya, I don't think that's a quality I'll love one day...

 

After the meeting it's usually time for your nap if you've woken early or time for breakfast if you've woken late. We put you in your little chair and you smile and laugh at 'your friends' who pass by and make the sweetest remarks. I will say that you have chosen favorites and the same few people sit at 'the Lincoln table' each meal and keep you entertained.

 

After breakfast we head to the Chapel where you lightly brush your finger over the stain glass windows or play on the ground in the colorful light that shines through them. I love when I get to bring you to worship with me. There something really special about that.

 



After Chapel camp gets moving and it's play time for us. Sometimes it's nap time, sometimes we head down to the river, sometimes it's just a walk around the cabins to see who's winning the current Nuke'Em game. Mostly it's just me and you time. I love it.

 

 

There's lunch and then more napping and more playing and then it's porch time. Right when the camp store opens up we go to see Jackie, your best friend that runs the store. She can make you smile more than anyone else on camp (except of course me and Daddy) and you love her a whole lot. If you're lucky she'll give you a little bit of snow cone ice and you'll bang on her counter top laughing so very pleased with yourself. And then just about that time Dad walks in and it's family time. So we head out to the porch and you and me and Dad get a little time together. Well, us and whoever else occupies the porch that afternoon. It's a sweet way to spend time.

 

 

Far too soon it's dinner time and then off to bed for you. There are many night events that happen after you fall asleep. You don't know what you're missing, but one day you'll run around the campfire and we'll teach you to two-step and you'll get to camp out under the stars with the 'big kids.'

 

 

But until then, you're still my baby. My nine month old little baby. Who loves food, who is quickly passing up purees for 'real' food and who just the other day learned how to wave goodbye. My little baby that is quickly growing out of all nine month clothing who we take on small adventures. We are excited about the day when you can go on the big adventures all the while hoping you'll stay little forever.

 

I love you sweet boy. I love our adventures. I love our people. I hope some day you love it here too.

 

All my love,

Mom

Lincoln: Eight Months

Eight Months

July 2015

 

Lincoln,

Every month I know I say the same thing, "I can't believe you are growing so fast." And again it is true. How is it that you were my little tiny baby just yesterday and today your laughing and singing and spreading your full-faced infectious smile.

 

You weigh 20 lbs 12 ounces now, although now they weigh you fully clothed and with your helmet on. Your length I have no idea because they haven't measured you at the doctor in forever.

Speaking of doctor, the reason we know your weight to the ounce is because we did go to the doctor recently. But not your baby doctor. You fell off the bed while Mommy was cleaning your little helmet. And let's just say that the fall was longer than you are tall. I screamed and held you and ran to the nurse to get you checked. You soothed quickly in my arms and it was a great relief. You wouldn't put any weight on your leg so we headed in. Congratulations, you got your second set of x-rays. (The first were your chest x-rays when you were born). Also, congratulations, your leg is not broken. You, sir, must be tough.

Thank for being tough.

And also, sorry. I'll try not to let you fall off the bed again as an infant. Although I'm sure you'll someday fall out of many trees or maybe off the frame of a four poster bed, and maybe you'll break your arm or leg one of those times.

I pray you take lots of adventures and that you're not afraid.

This month we've been busy that it's hard to count the milestones. This month we've been adventuring around Colorado in the mountains and to the tiny towns.

I will say that this month you attended your first Fourth of July Parade in Lake City. And really, you were in the parade, so that's a first. We had watermelon and played bingo in the park. But, to your mom's disappointment you didn't get to try turkey legs, because there were no turkey legs for sale this year in town.

Now that I really think about it you had a lot of first among the adventures. You played in your first Lake City Open at the mini-golf in Lake City. Although 'played' is a bit of a stretch because you mostly just chewed on the tiny little plastic orange club.

 

And you got to see you first movie in theatres. Typically sane people don't bring small babies to theatres out of the politeness of their hearts for the other people watching. We're polite, but the local Mountaineer Theatre held a special showing of Jurassic World for camp staff and so we brought you along. We put you in the ear protection muffs from the shotgun range and you fell asleep halfway through the movie and slept through the credits. I will note that you didn't seem scared at all of the dinosaurs and so that makes you extra tough.

You also got your helmet off. Your head grew so fast that it got too small and the doctor said you were all done. Your head's not perfect, but I'm sure ours aren't either. And who's aiming for perfect anyway. Won't be me.

Lots of adventures in Colorado Little Buddy. I do hope you come to love it here.

Love you always, my tough little guy,
Mom

Lincoln: Seven Months

Seven Months

June 4, 2014

Lincoln, my little buddy,

Today you are seven months old. How can it be true? How can you already be closer to one year old than the day you were born?

You sweet boy are more of a boy than a baby to me now. You can sit up all on your own and you can eat real food and you radiate joy out of the smiles and laughs that you gift us with daily.

I have no idea how much you weigh or how tall you are because we are in Colorado, in the middle of nowhere, and I haven't seen a scale in over a month. But you do feel heavier, even thought your pot belly is slimming out daily. And you do seem taller, especially when you try so hard to stand on your own.

You do, though, radiate a joy always. I pray that it's a joy from the Lord. I know surely that the Lord instilled a joy in you that he knew your momma needed. That after a year of tears he sent you to me, a picture of his unending joy. And every day you've made me smile at least once if not a hundred times, even amongst the poop and the crying and the fact that your skin is freaking out a bit up here in the Colorado air.

Just a few nights ago you slept for an entire eight hours straight. I woke and I thought for a second you must be dead, because you'd only slept at most five hours in a row before this. The next night you slept 7 hours in a row and I do hope you've decided to make this a pattern. I love you dear little one, but your momma wouldn't mind if you let her get a few more minutes of sleep now and then.

I mentioned your skin and it has been freaking out. I don't know if it's the altitude or the dry climate or something I could be feeding you or what your very own pediatrician called "fat baby rash" but your chubby little legs trap sweat and heat and the back of your knees are crusty. We're healing it now but I'm sorry if it somehow scars you for life.

I'm learning.

You talk to us all the time now, in your own little language, and you smile in delight when you figure out a new sound or a new tone. I love your voice. I love that you stare into my eyes and smile and talk as if you love me more than anything or anyone in the entire world. I know someday you you'll love another lady more than me and I'm okay with that, but for now, feel free to keep loving me, okay?

Your daddy makes you laugh more than anyone. He can make you giggle or tickle you until you can't breathe and you get the hiccups for hours. There's a way you love him that's special too. I pray he's always your favorite man.

My growing little boy. I love you. I can't believe you were once my little baby and I can't believe you will, in the blink of an eye, be 18 and leaving for college...

Happy 7 Months.

Love you always,
Mom

Lincoln: Six Months

 

Six Months

June 2015

 

Little Buddy,

I cannot fathom how you got to be six months old. Just yesterday you were only four months old and it must have been last week that you were born.

 

But now you are our little boy. Every day I look at you amazed at how you’ve grown so quickly and how you are turning into more of a little man and less of a baby. I often ask ‘where did my little baby go?’

 

You are hitting all the milestones that the doctors check. At your six month appointment you weighed in at 18 pounds 5 ounces and your head still hit into the 95^th percentile range. Your head will get us into a bit of trouble as the weeks go on, but we’ll be just fine and you’ll probably never remember that you had a flat head and we had to go to all these doctor visits or that you will have to wear one of those little baby helmets. Sorry if you do.

Right before your six month birthday we packed you into your Daddy’s big black truck and took you with us to Colorado. We arrived and you cannot stop looking around at all the new things. I love watching you explore this new world and I love seeing the wind hit you in the face as your eyebrows jump up in shock. I hope you come to love this place, I hope part of your heart lives here like ours do. I hope you gain a curious mind and an adventurous spirit out here, although I know that will get me into much trouble when you are a little older.

 

We started the fun of feeding you food this month and your dietitian Mommy is in heaven. You are in heaven too. The very first day you squished your little face at the taste of an avocado, but since then you’ve gobbled down that very same avocado, banana, oatmeal and sweet potato. You may grow up to be like your momma, there’s not a food I don’t like.

The wonder of living at camp is also seeing others marvel at you. We sit at the dining room table and stare at you. We all watch you smile and giggle and play and talk. We make funny faces at you and it would seem that all of us here haven’t a thing to do but watch you chew on a spoon.

 

Six months. And I cannot explain how much I love you. I just do. In a way that I want to kiss your cheeks constantly and I want to put your needs above my own constantly.

I love you sweet boy. Half a year, I can’t believe it.

Momma