Dear William,

Today you turn two months old. I've finally emerged from the haze of the first six weeks, and motherhood seems a lot better now. Especially when you smile at me.

You've been "helping me" get ready for Christmas... you've been so good as I dragged you all over the city Christmas shopping. I am very relieved that you seem to like your car seat. Well, maybe not your car seat. You scream when we put you in it. Maybe the car rides.

We're getting busier and busier as the holidays approach, and having you makes it so much more fun. Stuff that was fun before is more so now, now that I'm seeing things with fresh eyes. We dragged you out Christmas tree hunting, out in the mountains, snuggled up in the wrap inside my coat. We let your head out to take a picture, which you didn't like very much. It was an interesting trip; you had a big poop after we all ate lunch and I had to change you on my lap in the back of daddy's new car. I don't think I've ever been so nervous about changing a diaper, let me tell you.

We took your first overnight trip this month; to Grandma and Grandpa Gussman's in Black Diamond. Not a very exciting trip, I suppose, but I was so nervous about forgetting anything when we go for your dad's work Christmas party in January (Ukrainian Christmas, apparently) that I need some practice packing for you beforehand, and it's good to go where we can get more diapers or wipes or whatever else we need easily.

You've started doing a few new things; you've figured out how to get your hands in your mouth, and how to toss your head from side to side. I can see the bald spot developing already. You've also figured out how to blow bubbles; maybe that's not so much "figured out" as "started to drool a lot and can't help it". Either way, it's pretty cute. Your personality is starting to come through more and more as well, the good and the bad; I hope you can't tell, but I totally laugh when you start pouting. I can't help it! It's just too funny and adorable. You can get your revenge and laugh at me when I'm old and pouting at you.

Love, Mom