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Monthly Archives: September 2012

Dear Corwin,

You’re almost 11 months old now, and turning into quite the mama’s boy. Most days you refuse to be held by anyone else when I’m around. I can’t say I particularly mind. Okay, that’s a lie. I love it and try very hard not to gloat. There was a time you preferred your father so I’m relishing this.

Your dad and I held our first photography workshop this past weekend, which ate up a considerable amount of our time and energies this past month. But we were doing something we believe in and are passionate about, and it was just something we needed to do.

Time away from each other was rougher on me than it was on you, I think. I would cry randomly because I missed you. I’ve gotten used to spending most of my days with you. You cried once in your sleep and I was convinced it was because you miss me, too. In reality, it was probably just a bad dream, or pain from teething. On Sunday night though, after the workshop, you slept between us and giggled in your sleep.

There are things mommy needs to do to grow as a person, and this was one of them. The weekend was life-changing, and I see things more clearly now. Know that no matter where I go though, I will always come back, and I will always rush home to you. Everything, even this, leads back to you and to our little family. You are all my reasons.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Corwin,

You turned 10 months old yesterday. You blew your candle on a muffin, and we had grandma’s spaghetti. Your 9th month has been your best so far. Everything just happened all at once. You scoot around your playpen and crib so fast now, I can imagine you’ll be walking very soon.

This is one of my favorite photos of you on your 9th month. This is part of a series of photos that I want to hang in the living room.

You call me “mamamamama” when I have my back turned to you, and then ignore me and do something else when I turn to face you. :p

I have nothing profound to write right now. It’s 1:38am and I’m sleepy. Work’s been extra demanding lately, and am now taking it on with a gusto I haven’t had in a long time. I feel bad that I don’t get to spend every waking minute with you, but know that we do this largely for you now. You make me want to be better in every way. And I do feel it, like I’m a much better person for having you in my life.

We still make lots of time to play with you and read to you, but not as much as I would like. I still get so many snuggles in though. Snuggles are very, very important. You are what I imagine heaven smells like.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Corwin,

You woke up at 3am, just when I was done working and about to sleep. You pulled yourself up, grunting with exertion, while I lay in bed pretending to be asleep. I hoped you would go back to sleep on your own. You didn’t. Instead, you started tossing things overboard and talked to them when they were scattered on the floor. Then you made funny faces at me while I peeked at you from beneath my lashes, until I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. You bounced with utter glee, and I did the only sane thing left to do: dance with you.

So there we were, you in your crib and me in front of you, both dancing and laughing crazily to a song I just made up, surely a funny sight to see for anyone looking out their window at half past three. When you were less than three weeks old, I used to cry while you slept, scared that this motherhood business would never come naturally to me. I’m not sure it does or ever will. What I do know now is that you were perfectly made for me, and I, for you. And I think we’ll be just fine.

Love,
Mommy