Dear Isaiah,

I am exhausted. You are adorable.

Apparently, this is how parenthood works. Nick loses his hair. I lose my cuteness. You grow hair and gain cuteness. We give it all to you, my dear child.

Your Dad these days is putting up shelves in the kitchen. Wonderful bright, white, wide, and sturdy shelves are now gracing a once-empty wall. On these shelves will be glass jars full of colorful beans, pastas, dried fruit, and anything else we could move out of the cabinets and onto the walls. This has been a longtime project of mine and I’m so excited to see it come to fruition.

We took you to Home Depot for the first time this past weekend to pick everything up. Of course you slept through everything, even my nearly knocking the cart over with my clumsiness. You’re such a champ.

You even survived the hours of drilling in our kitchen. Your eyes get really big and your whole body goes still, like there’s a huge monster in the kitchen waiting to eat both of us up. It’s just your Dad, though, trying to make me happy with my happy kitchen project. He’s thoughtful like that.

Your Lola, my mother, goes home today after a wonderful 3 week visit. Oh, she is so attached to you, I think she was seriously thinking about taking you home with her to Virginia. And now, this morning, I am realizing how much I had come to depend on her over these few weeks. The kitchen sink is full, the vacuum needs to be run. Sheets need to be cleaned. Sleep needs to occur, and we need eggs, veggies, and juice in the fridge.

And it’s Holy Week.

Mothers are the source of sanity, I’ve found. Having MY mom here calmed me in a way and freed me to do so many things, I can’t help but feel like grandparents are the greatest people in the world right now. Everyday should be GRANDPARENT’S DAY in my book.

And now, as I write this, I can hear you wiggling around in your crib through the monitor. It’s just you and me again, Isaiah.

You are now three and a half months and I don’t think you have growth spurts, I think you just have had one long growth spurt since you were taken out of my womb. Your face is changing, you limbs are strong, and your neck is gaining stability. You no longer look like an infant, but a chubby, beautiful BABY. Your little face is starting to resemble that of a little boy and it often makes me tear up. Your father and I can hardly believe how blessed we are to witness you grow.

And now, as I write this, I can hear you start talking to yourself which, I know now, is a 10 minute countdown to a huge yelp that translates into: HEY! GET ME OUT OF HERE AND LET’S GET GOING WITH THE DAY!

Love,
Mama