Writing to you is like writing directly to my happiness. Mommy thought she was happy before you were born but she has since learned what true happiness feels like, what it can do and why money can’t buy it.
Dear lovey, you are six months old and during this time and for a little while before you were here I have been writing this little journal. At first, to express how I felt about being pregnant (me being selfish) and then I wrote about motherhood while you were just days and then weeks, and now months old (more being selfish, and tired … and terrified.) But now, here we are with you turning half a year old and something that should have hit me a long time ago has finally hit me. One day you may very well read these accounts of your first firsts and with that in mind here are some things I would like to tell you, because by the time you’re whatever age you are when you read your mother’s incessant stark raving mad ramblings, I may have forgotten. So, Jo? Where to begin with everything that you’ve done for me.
I never knew that I would take so much joy in moments that are very small or terribly normal or dare I say, to most even boring. But to your mom, the first time you smiled or laughed, rolled over and pooped brought me to tears. Happy ones. I’ve spent a good portion of your life so far scooping you up, hugging you against your will and wheezing away happily. Since your birth, every night I say a silent thank you and often that gets me going all over again.
Moving on, truth be told I am exceedingly gross with you. You’re so young for now that I see no reason why you and I have to be clothed. You’re an infant and I am a stay-at-home mom, so we don’t wear clothes a lot of the time. You, like your mom, are happiest when your tushy meets air. Problem is I spend a lot of the daytime hours giggling your bum cheeks. You think it’s hilarious because you don’t know what embarrassment is or feels like and I hope you don’t discover that for a long time. This is the most free you will ever be and I think I am being a good parent teaching you that there is nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to your body. Plus your baby body is bangin’, and for the record your father supports all of this so don’t be looking up from the page there and giving him a look like he’s supposed to be protecting you somehow, ok? Your dad there, well that guy recently admitted to me that he nibbles your earlobes. Yeah and that’s closer to child abuse than anything I perpetrate. There is a reason why your dad and I got married. We are wonderful weirdos and you my little one are likely to turn into one yourself.
The grossness continues. I kiss you everywhere all day long and I can’t help myself. If I kiss your neck you curl up into a ball around me and laugh with a healthy belly laugh that makes my heart swell. Also, it should be stated for the record that I’ve laid a smacker on your tiny lips, which makes me officially the first woman you’ve kissed. And I plan to tell your future spouse this on your wedding day. (Also while we are on the subject, going off of what happened on my wedding day, keep me away from the wine.) I do have a complaint though, some times when I am smooching you silly you drool on my face and then proceed to gum on my chin which tickles. It is also not glamorous or good to do in public. So I hope you will grow out of this habit and you don’t jump my face on your graduation day or something.
These days you are talking to me more and I in turn tell you everything that waltzes into my mind as we spend long days together waiting for dad to come home. I talk to you as if you understand and I have to tell you it is nice to have an ear that listens completely without judgment. It is my hope that as you grow up we continue to have a relationship where we can tell each other everything, openly and honestly without judging each other. Because I’ll tell you a little secret, I’ve made so many mistakes so far being your mom and I tell you when I make them. I hope one day you trust me enough to tell me when you royally fuck up and feel safe doing so. The secret is you’ll get away with a lot more without pain or punishment if you just own up to it. Why? Because I’ll just be happy you’re still talking.
What else … what else… Oh, sadly your intelligence at six months rivals my own … that’s all I want to say about that. You’re über smart for a baby. Congratulations.
Well, I will say one more thing on the matter, you get your smarts from your dad but you get your beauty from me. And being beautiful in life will you get everything, and heavily laid, everywhere.
Finally, sweetheart I want to tell you a few things in all seriousness. Oh my god, I love you so much and I will never be able to explain to you how or why or even come close to imparting to you how much I love you. I struggle to understand it myself. But everyday your dad says to me, “Baby, I love him.” And I say, “I know, babe. Me too.” Just like that, every day. You know when you look at me just for a moment or for a few long seconds like you do in the morning I feel this amazing thing. It’s like a light being lit within me. You look at me and I feel chosen. And it is clear to me why I am so lucky to have this life. I don’t know why I got to be your mother Jonah, but I did and I am honoured. It is strange to live everyday wanting to both slow time down and then speed it up. I can’t wait to see you grow up but this morning I cried because I realised how fast you are growing up. I cannot tell you how much happiness you’ve brought into my world. Thank god your dad and I don’t know crap about contraceptives. You, my little angel are the light of my life.