Letters to Hootoo - Your Kiss Is On My List

You've learned all about smooches. Smooching Mama, really. You get serious, open your mouth wide, tongue out, and slowly move your face toward mine. Your kisses are wet, and sloppy -- but I love it. I can prompt your smooches now with just one sound. You have yet to smooch your Dad. I get it. Dude stuff.

This morning you zeroed in on Dad. We thought it was going to happen. You went in for a big one, and instead quickly whipped your head around to his ear, grabbed a patch of hair and yelled, "a-HA!" Sneaky sneak. We both died from laughter. Yo Mama xo

Letters to Hootoo - Out with the Old

Hey, baby. You've learned a bunch of new tricks so I thought I'd write them down to mark the times.

You've upped your crawling technique. Butt in the air and all.
FaceTiming with Amma and Afi is a new fun thing. You become entranced with Afi's "One, two ... THREEEEEE" finger shaking on the screen, and improvised sing songs.
You babble a lot. No real identifiable words, but you're talking non-stop.
You have two matching bottom teeth.
Those two matching bottom teeth help you eat some of your favourite foods: pears, apples, sweet potato, blueberries, avocado, and, you know, CURRIED TEMPEH. You eat them as they come. I'm amazed at your coordination and ability to feed yourself. You've come so far in such a short amount of time.
You dig Yo Gabba Gabba, but Elmo is still number one in your books.
You giggle uncontrollably at wagging tails, the sound of vomit, and when Dad eats up your neck and armpit. It's all on video for future leverage.

I love you, Hootoo. You're a joy to be around and your happy little self lights up my life, and the lives of those around you.

Yo Mama
xo

Mommy Style: I GOT THIS.

Mommy-style is a hard thing. Postpartum, the bod is not what it used to be. Neither is my time or energy. As a new Mama and nursing student who also works part time, you all should be thankful that most days I've showered and my breasts are tucked in. That's my criteria for a successful look. I wield my baby as a distraction from this hot mess. I might be disheveled, but LOOK AT THE CHILD. He is the cutest, most adorable entity in the history of existence.

One evening, my partner pointed out a stain on my shirt. I realized that it was rogue egg-over-easy, and it had lived there all day. I had to quickly recall my day and think of all the faces that I'd been around that had said nothing. JERKS. Thankfully I had successfully avoided any exposure to future employers or the President.

My style is now about functioning. Cute pixie hair. Vibrams. Leggings with a wool skirt and a waffle shirt to boot. Bracelets from The Raining Season. Y'all can deal, because at this stage of the game my kid doesn't really care what I wear and I know this to be true. Besides, I'm workin' this look.

What Hootoo cares about is zerberts in the morning, hanging with Maggie, receiving his daily rendition of Loving You, a Mom and Dad that love him and each other, feeling safe, loved and full. I got this.