What we have here is a little boy who best falls asleep to LOUD music. Mommy doesn’t like that bc I can’t listen for choking or crying.

Did the loud music I blasted thru my iPhone into my belly really get to you?

You love The Meters, Alejandro Escosomething, Jeffrey Foucault, and at 2am when you are screaming I want I bow down to Steve Jobs and the brains behind the Music Gods for the gift of Reeve’s Playlist.

You are so sweet my Little Bird. Your lips are just perfect. They make this round O that makes it damn near impossible for me not to kiss. Your nose is perfection….your eyes are clear and attentive. Your hair is soft, like baby chick fur. I think of Easter every time I cup your tiny head in my hand. Your legs are still so skinny with so much room to grow. They will run fast, jump high and get you everywhere you need to go, of that I am sure.

Right now, Bob Dylan is singing “Tangled up in Blue” (a favorite of mine) and you are just talking and talking away. You are lying in your crib for the very first time and I can’t stand to leave the room. Leaving you anywhere just hurts. There is this tightness, a pain in my chest that takes my breath away each time I hand you over to anyone. What if they drop you? What if they fall?

You are just cooing and babbling away to yourself. I have no doubt that you are telling Mr. Dylan a silent Thank You.

Oh Reeve, how is it possible that for 32 years I dreamed of all of this and it’s a million times better than any dream? Even though you slept 2 hours last night and pooped within minutes of every diaper change, I still can’t help but promise you the world each time I pick you up. This morning we danced to “One for Sorrow” by Jeffrey Foucault and I swear that smile you have learned in just under TWO weeks almost had me on my knees.

I can’t wait until you are old enough to go to music festivals and dance with us.

What a blessing you are!



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