Letter to Henry Wallace, 11 months

Dear Henry,

This week you are 11-months old. I’m slow with this letter because I’m still recovering from my little bout of mastitis. Wouldn’t you know that as soon as I write about our semi-predictable schedule, we all go and change things up? At the beginning of the month, I decided it was time to drop our first night feeding (substituting Dad and his shoulder), the main goal being to gently get you to sleep through the night. You weren’t really nursing much anyway––it was more of a security thing. But to compensate for this, you suddenly wanted to nurse nearly every two hours during the day, just like old times. So where this mastitis came from, I don’t know. We’re all a little run down these days. Tooth 7 & 8 broke through right at the beginning of the month and your molars are very swollen. You had a fever virus mid-month. We’re a little closer to our goal of sleeping through the night––we’ve had a couple of nights where you made it until 5 which is more than I ever even dreamed of (of course, you were also up for the day, but that’s another story). You know what, I think those people, the ones who say they put Baby down at 7pm and don’t hear a peep again until 7am? I think they are lying!!!!

Anyway, while I was sick in bed for three days, you spent a lot of time with your father. We have a lot of roosters in our kitchen, and in my foggy haze, I could hear him saying, “Rooster, rooster!” over and over. This is now your favorite word. You wake up from your nap: “Roo-ter?” We open the curtains: “Roo-ter?” We go to let the dog in: “Roo-ter?” Then we go into the kitchen: “Ah, Roo-ter!” (big smile). When you’re not hunting roosters, you like to ask questions. “WhaT? WhaT? WhaT?” I hope this doesn’t mean you already have your father’s hearing: “What’s the weather like? What’s the weather like? What’s the weather like?” “Oh, I bought some tomatoes.”

On March 9th you took your first steps. You pulled yourself up on the couch, put both hands above your head as in, “Touchdown!” and took two steps to the coffee table. Then I got too excited and you cried. You will also pull yourself up on one of the dining room chairs and then walk over to the one I’m sitting in—still about two steps. With your pants pulled high over your big Bum Genius diapers, you look like a little old man hobbling around. Or maybe E.T—he’s a little bottom heavy. I think you’re about the same height.

Love,
Mama

Advertisements

About jordanbucher

My name is Jordan E. Bucher, formerly Jordan E. Pitcher, aka Wondertwin, Tadpole, Jojo. I live in Austin, TX by way of NYC for 7 years, London for a stop, Minnesota for 4 years, and Kansas for 18 very long years. I am married to Matt for nearly 4 years (smooching on and off for 7), and we have a son Henry Wallace who is almost 1. A crazy sheltie named Riley also lives with us. She herds sheep and vacuum cleaners in her sleep. I have worked in publishing for 10 years. I started as an editor and switched to being a publicist because I thought it would be cool to get paid for watching tv and reading magazines all day. I am proud to say I was a cupcake artist at Magnolia Bakery on my days off, way before the Saturday Night Live rap. I have met Carrie Bradshaw and Felicity, and once Kyle McLaughlin flirted with me. My interests include bran, sending inappropriate emails to unintended recipients, and naps (not mine, of course: Henry's). I like sushi and red meat. And red wine.
This entry was posted in Henry Wallace, newsletters. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Letter to Henry Wallace, 11 months

  1. Melissa says:

    Oh, wow! What adorable words–rooster, what. What great stories. And walking, too? I can’t wait to meet the little guy!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s