It’s been three months (plus a week), and I’m wondering what happened to my newborn baby boy?  I turn my back for a second and suddenly his long legs hang off the edge of my lap when I’m nursing him.  When did his toes start pushing at the seams of his six-month pajamas?  When did he stop making that squeaky sound with each gulp of milk?  And for Pete’s sake, when did this kid grow that irresistible belly?!

Month three brought the best of times and the worst of times. More good than bad, as a sweet toothless grin can right a thousand wrongs, but oh, when Isaac gets mad, his screams will make your eardrums whoosh. He’s thrown a handful of fits at bedtime that have rattled the windows and left us all in various states of angst (my default reaction is concern, Juliette gets sad, and Shane sternly asks him to just “Get it together, Buddy!”). Best not let this kid get overtired, and best not put him in his crib before he’s good and ready, or he will make you pay.

BUT, so many smiles!

And so many long stretches of awake contentedness, which is a welcome new development. He loves the little play mat of Juliette’s that we’ve held onto for all these years and will happily bat at the elephant and giraffe for 20 or 30 minutes while I hang out nearby.

His jabbering turns to fussing when he’s tired of that game and I’ll sit on the floor next to him and look into his eyes and suddenly his breath quickens with excitement and his limbs start flailing like he’s making a snow angel with his arms and riding a bike with his legs and he grins.  All it takes is a moment of eye contact, and he’s over the moon (which of course sends me over the moon).

And the crib grins!  I head into his room when he starts rustling around in the middle of the night or early in the morning and he looks up at me in the glow of his nightlight and smiles big, thrilled by the promise of snuggles and milk.  This face is worth getting out of bed for.

We’re in a good groove with nighttime sleep – Isaac is up around 3 am for a quick eat and goes back down again until 7:00 or 7:30.  Napping, though…  He’s a chronic daytime dozer and wants to sleep in my arms after he eats.  I can transfer him to his crib, but it’s rarely more than 15 minutes before he’s awake and wondering where the heck I went.  And so I hold him.

The hours I’ve spent in the tried-and-true gray rocking chair with this boy, studying his every feature while he sleeps and throws my to-do list to the wayside.  His light purple eyelids will flutter open as he snorts himself awake, then he groggily gazes at me, puts his hand on my chest and drifts back into his serene little slumber.  Don’t go anywhere, Mom.  Sometimes he smiles as he sleeps and lets out a soft chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  Sometimes he furrows his brow and pouts his lips with the saddest little whimper.  I’m here for all of it.

I will say, these drawn-out nursing and napping sessions seem to do his body good, though, as he’s become quite the solid little mister. He’s holding his head up like a champ and his doctor called and his neck strength “kind of unbelievable” at his two-month checkup.

Tummy time also gives me a chance to wipe clean those neck creases!  It’s the only time of the day that his head separates itself from his chest.

He loves to stand and seems to be counting the days until I cave and buy him one of those big plastic exer-saucers. Juliette will prop him up by his armpits and proudly declare him “Prince Isaac of the Heights” before lifting him into the air with a flourish – little bro might be an early cruiser.

Juliette continues to thrive in her role as big sister.  At first I wondered if she just enjoyed playing house with a live baby doll, but once I saw her put her cheek next to his and gush “I just love you so much, Buddy!”, I realized I underestimated her.  She’s feeling the real deal and could not love her brother any better or deeper or sweeter.

She still won’t change poopy diapers, but she does love to dress him and groom him and is often patting his hair down flat with a little bit of water, as she insists this makes him most handsome.  I think he looks like a used car salesman and prefer that tousled situation he has going on in those tummy time pictures, but whatever.

Some things just can’t be tamed…

Isaac loves the bath and so we’re often stretching out bathtime to get through that pre-bedtime fussy hour.

I like a warm bath and a good book too, Isaac.

A few other tidbits:  We’re still throwing around nicknames for Isaac and Chewbacca still pops up from time to time, but I also call him Sausage Toes (kid has some seriously chubby feet!), Sweaty Muffin (boy runs hot!), and Big Pooper (realizing now I may need to come up with some more affirming terms of endearment?).  Shane calls him Buddy Boy and Juliette calls him Little Rascal and BLB (Best Little Brother).

He loves the sound of the shower, the hair dryer, and the vacuum, which is great, as I can set him in his chair and get some housework done or get ready for bed while simultaneously soothing him.

His eyes have stayed blue and the jury is out on whether they’re just newborn blue or forever blue, but I’m hoping it’s the latter.

And…he’s maybe the sweetest baby ever?  I know, I’m a biased, smitten new mama, but seriously, kid…I adore you.