Christmas has come and gone, and I’ve had a tough time writing this letter. The holiday season is supposed to be wonderful and magical and the best time of the year, but truth be told, it was a difficult week.
You slept marginally well (and that means 3-4 hours at a time) for two nights of our vacation, but those were bookended by two awful, awful nights where you were awake every hour and a half to two hours. Frayed nerves from lack of sleep plus normal holiday stress equals a constantly on-edge mama, and trying to keep my game face on for the constant whirlwind of presents and family dinners and parade of tween and teen cousins was truly exhausting.
When it wasn’t nighttime, however, you were delightful. You flashed that charming grin at everyone and won them over from the second they laid eyes on you.
It turns out it’s a fickle kind of love, though, because when I tried to offer you up in the Yankee Swap, no one wanted to trade for you.
The highlight of the week, hands down, was your first swimming experience. Your great-grandparents have an indoor pool that they heat up to nearly-bathwater temperature (90 degrees!) for family gatherings, so it was the perfect time for your first swim. And oh my word, did you love it.
Your face was rather expressionless when we first got in (which was ok – I wasn’t sure whether to expect tears or not), but within minutes you were kicking your legs and smiling at the small audience that had gathered to watch you. I held you so you were floating on your belly, and you held your head up high so your face never touched the water. If that little dip was any indication, you are absolutely a water baby.
I’m so glad you got the chance to spend time with family, and I’m equally glad that it’s over and we can return to our normal routine. It’s too early yet to tell if you will be more introverted like your dad and me, when social outings are exciting and fun and incredibly draining at the same time. If so, I want you to know that that’s perfectly ok and we will always fight for your right to sit quietly by yourself for a little while so you can recharge your batteries.
If those kind of situations energize you, however…well, you’re kind of on your own and I have no idea what we’ll do with you. Love you just the same, of course, and be totally baffled by our little social butterfly.
Your hermit crab mama