Newsflash: Emmett at 5 mos. Sits on Toilet!

Dear Emmett,

First of all, I'm confused about something. A friend noted that on top of these "blogs" the ads seem to match something you've written. Awhile ago, I wrote about how you were constipated. Sure enough, the ad at the top was about constipation. Somehow, something I wrote brought up a "gay love" ad. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I hope I'm not like one of those naieve moms that doesn't know that some word doubles for gay. I probably already am.

Anyway, les-see...You experienced your first religious debate last night, and like so many, you heard only one side. I was on the phone with your Godfather Colin, holding you, and he and I were debating about the definition of Christian behavior. I'm proud to say that I was more conserative. You sat through the whole thing, completely content, periodically pulling at my shirt or playing with my hair as if to say "You're right mom". I could tell that you agreed with every word that I said. Colin is easy to debate with because we both keep it toned down. We always agree to disagree. I've never had that so easy with anyone else.

In other news, we videotapped you trying very hard to poop today (your whole face was red and scrunched and you were actually making "ARRRRRRFG" sounds). Then, we realized how humiliated you will be later and DUH...why did we do that. But we did it and have documented it. Then we had a brilliant idea. Let's put him on the toilet! Oh Emmett. YOu would be so embarassed. You, your father, and me, all in the bathroom, the two of us making grunting sounds trying to help you to "go" in the potty. It took both of us to keep you from falling in, and you really didn't like it too much. Anyway, you are totally constipated, it didn't work, and we still await the explosion. I think I'm going to get your father to do it...you know. The changing.

Later, I fed you mashed bananas. I felt guilty because I was afraid you'd never eat veggies again. (That's what they say. That the babies love the fruits). But not you. You hated the bananas and by the end were flatly spitting them out onto your bib. You were literally sinking away from the bananas, sliding down into your seat in an attempt to ecscape.

You pulled my face down to your face and kissed me right on the lips! I was so excited and I called your dad in... and you actually did it again! Then, you did the same thing on my nose, and then on my eye! You were my little kisser all day! Then, I realized, that you were hungry and wanted to nurse. That you were showing that you wanted to "suck". Here I'd been bragging about my little kissey boy etc. etc. and you were trying to communicate hunger. Wonderful.

Other nicknames I realized I call you:

My little
Little Man
Nursey Nu Nu (what I call when we nurse. I'm nursey. Your Nu Nu)
Foody Nu Nu (what I call when I feed you solids)
Little Prince
Emmers (rarely)
One Sock Wonder
or
One Sock
Poopy head
Pooper
Pe-Peeeeeee

As I'm reading this, I'm almost beginning to shudder. Although it's cute when I'm calling you these things, to think that I call you "Pe-Peeeeee" (with the first Pe being prounced quickly, almost in a French kind of way) is unbelievable. I've lost it Emmett. I'm officially in the mom club. No more is that mysterious, independant woman with interesting jewelry. Gone is thewell-spoken, self-aware, socialite. I, the MOM, have arrived.

Forgive me, my darling. There's nothing I can do.
Posted by: Elisabeth / 6:07 PM