Letter to Adrienne, Month 1:
(Dressed up for your first trip to church).
Oh, Ady, my little Honey Badger. A few weeks before you were born, I saw This Ridiculous/ Not Safe For Work Video and shared it with your Dad simply because I thought it was hilarious and he likes to spend time watching Animal Planet. Naturally, he asked me if we could get a honey badger, and for the next few weeks many badger jokes were made about those darn honey badgers and how they just don't give a shit.
Well. Of course when you were born, honey badgers were still on the brain. And while the animals themselves aren't the cuddliest/most adorable creatures, the name is pretty darn cute, like you.
And so:
Mom hasn't had more than two hours of sleep in a row? The Honey Badger doesn't care; the honey badger wants to eat.
Dad's back is having back spasms? Uh, Honey Badger doesn't give a shit- she wants to be bounced. Now.
Grandma just changed a diaper? Well, the Honey Badger doesn't care, she has to poop again five seconds later!
Maybe you had to be here (or here and cognitively able to understand what's going on) to appreciate the Honey Badger. Trust me: it's hilarious. Hopefully I remember, before your first day of kindergarten, to tell you your real name, so you don't come home in tears saying, "EVERYONE KEPT CALLING ME ADRIENNE! Why don't they know my name???"
This month has been full of screaming, eating, burping, and diapering. One week, you screamed so hard, so constantly, that I reduced my diet to the blandest, most healthy foods in an attempt to eliminate everything that could possibly hurting your tummy. You know, it's really hard to see someone you love hurt and not be able to do a single thing to help them. One night, at my breaking point, your grandmother suggested that since it couldn't get any worse, I may as well be happy and just go ahead and order pizza.
So I did.
And I chomped down and startling number of slices (even for me), and the next day, I swear, you hardly cried at all. Since then, even though you cry and scream occasionally, we've been able to settle you.
No, NEVER underestimate the power of pizza. I'm sorry about that week of bland foods. I won't let it happen again...
You also like the oversized black and white poster of Audrey Hepburn on the wall, being held on my shoulder while I do squats, waking up at all hours of the night in an insane plot to rewire all of the synaptic connections in my brain, and bathtime. In the last week or so, we've started playing on the floor while you're wide awake and making faces at me while I say, "hey, Badger Badger! Little Honey Badger, Ady!!!" And I try to restrain from shoving your hands in my mouth because you're just so little and cute.
(Tummy Time. Hard work; you already workout harder than I do).
Right now you're napping in your bassinet, wearing your pink Montreal Canadiens pyjamas (they lost the game, but are still up 2 games to 1 in this playoff series against the Bruins). You fell asleep on your own (amazing considering the amound of screaming your dad was doing at the TV) after staring, making faces, and waving your arms in the general direction of your favourite stuffed animal, Gerry the Giraffe.
And we couldn't love you more; we just couldn't.
(Happy in your bath tub).
Sappily yours,
Mom.
