It's, See You Later. Not, Good-Bye

Mommy Says

Dear Tyson,

I've been thinking about what I wanted to write to you in this letter all week-I'm just not certain I can find the words to adequately explain how I feel. Tomorrow will be your first day at day care. Our first day apart in 12 weeks.

It's amazing how much we've both changed since you arrived. You're developing your own little personality now. You're an early bird (like Mommy and Daddy). You love to laugh, smile, and coo while we get you ready for the day. It's as if you're telling me all about what I missed with you during the night. You're starting to discover new things every day. You can hold onto toys and grasp at your burp rag while we're feeding you. You're close to rolling over, but not quite there yet. You like your swing now, but only for a short amount of time. Lights and music are your favorite.

I've changed too. It's hard to believe such a little guy could teach a person so much. The obvious lessons-like point your pee-pee down if I don't want to change your clothes sixteen times a day and the bigger lessons-like patience and humility. I'm a better person, wife, and daughter because of you. I now know the true meaning of unconditional love.

While I'm at work, I will miss having breakfast next to you on the floor and talking about what we're going to do that day. And the way you squeal when I wonder too far away and the way you laugh when we sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider." I will miss the way you burrow your head into my chest when you want a really good nap and watching you smile as you drift off to sleep. I will miss our play dates and trips to Target. I will miss your yawns and red eyes when it's time for a nap. I will miss watching you discover a new toy every day. I will miss your peaceful look as you rock in your swing. I will miss you in my arms. I will miss you.

I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for the past 12 weeks.

Love,

Mommy

If you like it then you shoulda put a bib on it...

Mommy says...

We like this song in our house.

Daddy likes it for obvious reasons. Reasons Tyson will discover when he understands why some days he wakes up with a pee-pee that sticks straight up. Beyonce, leotards, dance moves that involve bending over and leotards. Fantastic.

Mommy is much more wholesome (or crazy, it really depends on how you look at it). You see I've changed the words when I sing it out loud to Tyson. (I've changed the words to many songs -loads of time with no adults to talk to-but this happens to be my favorite and most clever) In our house it's no longer, "If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it." It's now "If you like it then you shoulda put a bib on it..." And, really...hilarious, huh? Because Tyson-he spits (LOTS) and if I liked the outfit, I should have put a bib on it.

Man, I need adult interaction. Perhaps my return to work on Monday will be a positive thing.

Are You Ducking Kidding Me?

Daddy Says (in partial third person because it’s waaaay more fun):

Tyson, as you're bound to find out sooner rather than later, your Mommy is, shall we say, a little bit anal retentive. In fact, these overly meticulous traits possessed by Mommy seem to have increased ten-fold since we learned the union of Daddy's sperm and Mommy's ovum would, indeed, lead to your birth.

Case in point. T’was a wonderfully sunny, Saturday morning, roughly three months (THREE MONTHS!!!!!!) before you were even due to be hatched. Daddy waltzed into "his" shower, only to find; not one, not two, not three, not even four, or five, not f****ing six, but seven, yes, seven rubber duckies precisely placed on the shelves where Daddy once put all of his shaving supplies. "Honey,” Daddy yelled to Mommy, "Is there something I should know about, like, did we have a kid two years ago that I'm somehow unaware of?" “No,” Mommy replied in her delightfully innocent voice, “I’m just getting ready for when Tyson is born.” Seriously, ‘getting ready for when Tyson is born’. You were still three months from showing us your cute little face and Mommy was placing rubber duckies in the f***ing bath tub! Ughhhh.

Tyson, just so you know though, Daddy is not as sour about this as he may sound. In fact, Daddy totally knew Mommy was anal retentive before he married her. The fact that she had the wedding completely planned three months (THREE MONTHS!!!!!!) before Daddy popped the question should have given him a clue. And, he even loves her for it! Also, just so you know, the only thing Daddy could do was smile when he saw the seven rubber duckies in “his” shower : )

Jackpot!

Mommy says:

Some days I feel like we won the baby lottery. Not the Powerball though because the odds of winning that twice are slim to none. ( And I do plan on winning the Powerball someday. It would really suck if this ruined my odds.) More like a big scratch off or pull tab win.

I know every parent thinks their child is perfect, but really, ours is.

He's just a good baby. He smiles lots (mostly at the ceiling fan, but still...) and can coo for hours. He can be independent, but he loves his cuddle time. He naps well and sleeps even better-6 hour stretches by his one month birthday. He's (almost) always well behaved in public and even his crying fits (rare) are tolerable. Happiest Baby on the Block? I gave birth to him 10 weeks ago.

Plus, we've already established he's really stinkin cute. See?

In the months prior to Tyson's big arrival, I read nearly every baby book I could get my hands on. I was a daily visitor (correct that, stalker) of sites like the bump.com and birthcenter.com. I could recite the 5 S's forward and backward. I'd like to think that this studious preparation resulted in our jackpot baby, but really, parenthood is not like school (which is kinda good as Daddy really didn't put in the same A for effort preparation as Mommy and I'm guessing this would be a team grade). All the studying and reading in the world does not equal a good baby. Luck does. And we got lucky.

PS: It seems I also gave birth to a genius. (Double Jackpot, right?!) While I would love for you to believe that my amazingly awesome parental skills have created this child genius, it just isn't likely. With the lack of sleep, poor personal hygiene, and minimal adult conversation in the past three months, it's much more probable that I just lucked out and birthed our very own Baby Einstein. I realize some of you (who know Daddy) think I'm full of crap-a Baby Einstein? With that Daddy? Come on. But, it's true. I've got proof.

This is Tyson at eleven weeks grabbing at toys. On his own. At eleven weeks. And continuing to hold said toy. On his own. See? Pure genius. His head is also in the 58th percentile, which, big head=big brain. Obviously.

PPS: This will be the last post (for awhile) where I brag about how Tyson is the smartest, cutest, happiest baby because:

a) I don't want to bore you with the obvious.

and

b) We've already said we'll allow Tyson to read this when he gets older and I really don't want a cocky kid. Cocky kids are not stinkin cute.

Dear Tyson

Dear Tyson,

This blog is for you. Sure, we've found a great outlet to document our jouney into parenthood-follies and all (you may even see Mommy and Daddy disagree on here at times), yes, the blog will be great for Grandmas and Grandpas to follow your every.single.move, and OF COURSE Mommy will use it to whore out all of your adorable baby pictures (because you really are stinkin cute). But, really this blog is for you.

Because November 5th, 2009 completely changed our lives. Scratch that- March 4th, 2009 completely changed our lives. That's the day we found out you had chosen us to be your Mommy and Daddy. US! After close to a million pregnancy tests (it only took two months, Mommy was just a little neurotic), we finally had the result we were waiting for. You were on your way!

Mommy had a ridiculously easy pregnancy and an even easier delivery. The first words you heard on your birthday (besides, "Touchdown!"-ask Daddy) were, "He's perfect." And, you are. Just ask us.

You have changed our lives in the most amazing ways. You are such a happy baby. Content with smiling at the ceiling fan or cooing at yourself in the mirror. Your smile (even at 3 AM) makes us smile. Your cries are few and far between. You've discovered your voice and sometimes, we swear, we can hear your laugh in there just itching to get out.

You have given us the most amazing gift in the world-you. This blog is our thank you. Someday, when you are much, much, much older, you can laugh with (at) Mommy and Daddy, you can read about your first steps and your first words, you can see some naughty words (just don't use them) and you can learn just how much you are loved by two people who never knew just how much joy you would bring them.

We love you Tyson.

Mommy and Daddy

PS--No, you were not named after Mike Tyson or Tyson Chicken, just in case you've been wondering.