December 1, 2009

It is the first year since 1963 that we've had no snow in November.

The day after Thanksgiving, your father pulled out the Christmas decorations: a tiny tree with flickering lights embedded in the tips of the branches, felt snowmen with sand-weighted bottoms, a pine cone candle, a blue bowl filled with colored ornament balls that wouldn't fit on the tree. We unpacked, for the first time, the Peruvian creche that Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa Mark gave us for Christmas last year. I wrapped your fingers around the tiny baby Jesus and you promptly dropped him on the floor. But the decorations look odd in our living room because the windows hold a snow-less scene: dull green grass, a pine tree, the maroon boards of our porch, the dun colored town homes on the other side of the lawn. Christmas seems impossible right now.

Last night I brought dinner to Katie and Nate (cream of tomato soup and Cougar Gold cheddar cheese and Triscuits and Dole salad mix and baby carrots and cherry tomatoes and warm brownies and two Oktoberfest beers). I held beautiful baby Owen, 2 1/2 weeks old, eyes almond-shaped and slightly hooded like his father's, and thought about how much your body has already changed. You don't weigh much more that Owen, but your limbs are considerably stronger. His have the rubbery flexibility of one fresh from the womb; you are learning how to stiffen. You can bear your weight on your legs though you can't yet balance. You are developing the tendency to arch your back when we put you in the car seat or the Bumbo seat if we do so at a time not quite to your liking.

Last night, when I changed you, I caught you holding on to the wicker of the Moses basket with your hands and pressing up against the bottom of the basket with your bare feet. In the last two nights, you have become suddenly ravenous. You had consistently been sleeping from 8 to 8 with one feeding at 4 or 5. But last night you woke at 12, 4, and 7. After the 7am feeding I re-swaddled you and zipped you into your sleep sack (where, armless, you resemble a little glow worm). I placed you in your crib below your mobile. Then I showered, dressed, fed Luxy, packed my computer, and put on my coat. You father slept on; when I left, you were talking quietly to yourself. You are 12 1/2 weeks old so I assume this must be your 3 month growth spurt.

Yesterday, we bounced below the stained glass windows of Boe Chapel while Martha gave a reflection about LVC. Afterward, Jennifer Koenig asked if you would be willing to portray Jesus in the St. Olaf Christmas pageant. We accepted on your behalf.