Benjamin Penguin

Dear Benjamin,

Congratulations! You are two months old today, which means that I am not a completely colossal failure at motherhood. Mind you, I meant to start this writing you a once a month letter thing when you turned a month old and then failed to get my act together until now. This is a good thing, though, as it is important that you learn from a very young age that Mama is a horrible procrastinator that also has a horrible memory for completing desired and/or necessary tasks, but could sing you the entire “Revenge of the Nerds” theme song from memory if you asked her to. I won’t remember to brush my teeth in the morning, and I’m sure I’ll forget to remind you as well, but if you ever need to know a complete rundown of the names of all the Smurfs, I’m there for you, little man.

This will be a longer than usual letter because so very much has happened in the past two months. We have gone from an overcrowded animal farm with two adults to an overcrowded animal farm with two adults and a baby. Now, one would think that the mere addition of a little 10 pound child would not do that much to alter the balanced chaos that is our home, but oh how wrong we were in that assumption. You’ve turned our lives on their heads. By the way? Thanks for that. Really. I always loved my life with Daddy and though it is roughly 1000 times more stressful and uncertain than it ever was because we have to, you know, nurture a delicate little life, we’re exactly where we want to be. In life, that is. This one-bedroom apartment living can go.

You’ve changed so much in the past two months, but then, so have Daddy and I. It’s fair to say that although we are not totally different people, we are finding new facets of ourselves that are totally different from what we have experienced in the past. They, and they being the throngs of parents before us, say that having a child changes you, and this is a trite but true observation. At the very least you learn things about yourself. And maybe you see the world a little bit differently, too. Now that you are a blinking, breathing, moving, wiggling member of society, I feel a stronger urge to continue my social workin.’ I was motivated to do this work before, but now when I think about trying to make the world a better place, I’m doing it for you. Others will benefit, of course, but as I run my brain ragged trying to solve social injustice and inequality between leisurely readings of People magazine, know that my motivation is my little boy with the twinkle in his eye. Daddy has become more of a nurturer than he ever was. Benjamin, I married very well and chose a man that loves to care. For our anipals, for our families, for me. We’re lucky in that regard, you and I, because we have someone that is all abut the hugs and affection. Daddy has always been the softer, more gentle soul in the pair and he’s only grown more so since you’ve been here. I’ve always been the one that had the strong desire to bust down doors and take over the world. I like to fight and I like to succeed and I like to constantly challenge myself to do difficult things. We mesh well together, Daddy and I. If we were cavepeoples, Daddy would be in the cave swaddling you in sabertooth tiger skins while Mama would be out putzing around in a field, spear in hand, trying to take down some large, edible plant. We’re vegetarians, mind you.

Also? Daddy loves to hold you. You won’t remember it when you are older because those little baby brains aren’t wired that way, so I try to take pictures that I can show you when you are an adolescent and basically hate everything about us because parents are just so lame. I get quite a few shots of Daddy snuggling with you, but know that for every one shot I take, you must multiply the number by a thousand and that just about touches upon all the moments he holds you. I hold you, too, but I’m always the one behind the camera, so you might not see it as much when you’re older. Note to self: have Daddy take a few pics of my holding you. I hold you so much that sometimes my wrists hurt from the angle with which I support you. I know that I should put you down, but you are only this small for so long and in time you won’t be patient enough to sit still and hang out in Mama’s arms. That’s ok. There’s a great big world that you’ll be exploring soon enough, but in the interim, you’ll be seeing it all from Mama or Daddy’s arms.

But this isn’t all about Daddy and I. This is about you, too. When you first came home, you were such a little guy. You were 20 inches in length and about 8 pounds, 5 ounces. In that time, you’ve gained about 2 pounds, 2 ounces and a superhero-like 4 inches in length. This tells me three things. (1) In spite of the fact that I eat way more junk food than I should right now, my milk is not wholly comprised of Sprite and salt and vinegar potato chip pieces and has some nutritive value, (2) we must be doing something right on the nursing front and (3) I’m going to have a nice view of your belly button by the time you are 18 years old. Of course, since doctors appear to enjoy it when Mama has heart palpitations, your doctor just this week said that you were gaining weight a little slow. The fact that shot up like a little bean shoot should account for something, a point that I plan to bring up to your doctor when you get your very first round of shots this week. And by shots, of course I mean those instruments of torture that will leave me feeling panicky and you sore and cranky. We’ll get through it together. And then we’ll TP the doctor’s house later this week in a desperate bid for revenge.

Besides your obvious physical changes, you’ve been doing some other pretty neat things as well. You smile now. Quite a bit, actually, especially when I tickle your chin and cheeks. It starts out with a slow grin and then bursts into this big smile. It’s kind of like how I smile, actually. Mine starts with a lazy side smirk that busts into an all-teeth grin. I know that you may not be taking after me in this regard, but I like to kid myself and think that I somehow have something to do with it. You also are starting to open up your hands more, and even though you still generally have them clenched in fists like a little pugilist, they are a very loose fist now. Every now and then you stick out a finger and point. I don’t think you are pointing at anything, per se, more just pointing for pointings sake. I, too, like to wag a menacing finger at those that I feel have wronged me, so perhaps you should continue to cultivate that skill. It does little to make things go your way, but you feel a modicum of empowerment that lasts for as long as someone continues looking at you. So five seconds. But what a heady, powerful five seconds those are. You are also starting to make “cooing” sounds. I know that they are cooing sounds because in my baby book it says that babies make “cooing” sounds about this time. And I would have to say that they kind of sound like a coo. Thankfully they don’t sound like a “purr” or a “meow,” which would be entirely plausible in this house. With all the cats running around here, interspecies confusion is but one of the risks we’ve have to consider.

You’ve also been going on more and more adventures. Thus far it is mostly with Mama, but you, Daddy and I have gone out a few times as well. Just yesterday I tried to get Daddy to take a walk with the dog and us. We got about three blocks into it before he could no longer tolerate scaling large ice and snow mounds with your paisley-patterned stroller and promptly decided to turn around and go home. As you get older, you’ll no doubt notice that Mama doesn’t always pay attention to the minor annoyances in life, such as scaling ice walls with an infant in a stroller and a squirrely dog in tow. Daddy, on the other hand, breaks out into a sweat just by thinking of the numerous ways in which a winter walk could be treacherous, and this is before he even gets his shoes on. So most of your adventures have been with Mama thus far because Mama never seems to focus on the myriad of ways in which something could be too complicated to pursue. And you seem to enjoy our time out and about because you are quite quiet for the most part – sleeping half the time and quietly observing things the rest of the time. Sometimes you let out a little wail, but usually that’s hunger talking, and after you eat, you’re good to go for another few hours. Daddy is a little concerned by how easily you’ve taken to the adventures we have because he fears that you are turning into a little me. This is a terrifying probability for a man that considers it a point of pride to be a homebody. Whereas my legs start involuntarily propelling me towards the door if I’ve been in my apartment for more than three hours. I, however, am delighted because with two people needling Daddy to get up and take us somewhere, we’ll wear down his spirit that much quicker and will be on the road to that afternoon Chipotle/museum/movie/IKEA jaunt before you know it.

You’ve just begun to enjoy your swing in the past few weeks, too. You’ve taken to sitting in it and looking around whatever room we happen to be sitting in. In the dining room/office/hovel, you get to see cats hovering over you from atop the desk and bookcase and you get to look at all the textbooks that I pretended to read when I was still in my classes. In the living room, you get to see cats hovering over you from atop the daybed and coffee table and you get to look at all the DVDs I was watching when I was supposed to be reading my textbooks. The other day, when we were at Grandma’s house, you really enjoyed looking at these little colorful flags in Daddy’s old bedroom. Mostly, however, you seem to like looking at us, which serves us well since we think it’s pretty awesome to be looking back at you. We waited a long time to look into your little face and it was well worth it baby boy.

Interestingly, I believe that there are some things now that will be forever tied to your infancy. I am thinking in particular of certain foods, movies and places that will always remind me of you. Penny’s Noodles will always hold a special place in my heart because not only did we go there regularly when I was pregnant with you, but we’ve eaten an inordinate amount of take out food from there since your birth. Same with Quaker Oats Chewy Granola bars. I lived on these in the first few weeks that you were home. And I’ll never again be able to watch the movie “Employee of the Month” without thinking about the countless hours we spend nursing on the couch while I gaze off at the screen as it plays again for the third time that day. I feel like I already want to cling to these tangible reminders of your earliest weeks because you are already two months closer to growing up, becoming a man and making your own way in the world. I think that is why I take so many pictures of your little hand near Daddy’s or mine. Years from now, when you are a great big adult, I want to be able to look at my hand, or Daddy’s hand, and try to remember what it was like to have your tiny little hand placed on ours. I think the pictures will help. And also, I really want you to see how absolutely crazy we are about you – so much so that I have to fight the urge to take pictures of you every waking moment because I would love nothing more than to preserve it all, if only I could.

Love,

Mama