Yesterday you turned two months old. As I type this, you are taking one of the three twenty-minute cat naps you take during the day. So while your daytime napping record has not improved much over the past month, you are at least much more pleasant to be around during those sleepless daytime hours. I feel like someone traded in the one month old you and exchanged you for the newer, improved model. Gone is the Henry who cries all day long -- he has been replaced with a sweet, smiley, and slobbery little bundle of fun. This is not to say that you no longer have your moments as a total fuss-bucket, but your fussy periods have become shorter and fewer. Among your favorite things to do: stare at the ceiling fan, take baths, laugh and shout at your mobile as it goes around, and smile the sweetest, most heart-melting smiles I've ever seen.
You still don't sleep through the night, but seriously, what two month old does? Two nights ago, we started putting you to sleep in your own room. You're still sleeping in the little rocking reflux thingy -- I'm not tough enough to transition you to your crib -- but you have graduated to not needing to see my face when you wake up screaming in the night. I was a little sad at the idea of moving you, but kiddo, you are a loud sleeper, and it has been nice to not wake up several times between feedings due to your loud stretching and grunting and random panting. I secretly enjoy our time at nighttime feedings, when I get to rock you and cuddle with you until you go back to sleep. Although your dad is assigned the 3am shift (the first of your two times up at night), I still get up with you two just so I can sneak a peek at your sweet chubby face.
And speaking of chubby, you are definitely turning into a little porker. You currently drink 4 ounces every 2 hours or so during the day - I think you may have a hollow leg! But you are getting the cutest, most kissable little chubby cheeks. And I've definitely noticed some new rolls on your legs, which definitely prolong bath time since I have to scrub in each and every one.
After you had gone to bed the other night, I was folding one of the 200 loads of laundry I do each day. Buried in the pile of grown-up clothes was a pair of your pants. Your dad came in and caught me staring at those little pants. When he asked me why I was so fascinated with the pants, I told him that there are days where I feel like I need to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't just dreaming that you were in our lives, and those miniature pants were just another reminder that you really are real.
I am so glad that you (and your little pants) are here.