My dearest Tobin,

My first draft of this letter began with a description of the crazy morning we had, largely due to your brother.  My purpose there was to point out how calm and sweet you were through the whole thing, but as I looked over what I had written, I realized I was heading in the wrong direction.

One of my close friends is a second-born child who has a lot of useful advice on the topic.  I didn’t want to interrupt her workday by asking her opinion on a blog post, but I’m pretty sure I know what she would say:  don’t start the Tobin Times by writing paragraphs and paragraphs about someone else, only to tack “And you were such a good boy” on at the end.

So now, I delete.  That story is for another time.  This?  This here is Tobin Time.

The day you were born was unseasonably cool for August.  When my labor was just beginning, your dad and I took a walk outside and enjoyed the beautiful day.  People kept telling me that second births go faster, so we didn’t waste too much time getting to the hospital.  Eighteen hours of labor later, you were in my arms, pink and vigorous and nursing perfectly.  You’re a good sleeper, and you have fit right into our family.  Yes, we’ve had to make some changes to our routine, but it’s really amazing how easy it’s been overall.  You belong with us.

I can’t say for sure whether your personality at one month will be similar to your personality down the road, and I promise I will still love you if (when) you turn into a grumpy preschooler, but for the time being I’m really appreciating your chill nature.  Right now, for example, you’re lying next to me on the couch, looking up at some art on the wall.  It’s probably out of your range of focus, so all you see are colors and general shapes, but I love the fact that it’s holding your attention.

Yesterday I was reminiscing about the time I went to Paris and spent many hours wandering museums by myself.  I really enjoy going to museums alone.  There’s no need to stay longer than I want in any particular area, and I don’t feel pressured to make intelligent commentary about chiaroscuro or upward movement or any of those things I learned about in high school Western Civ class.  But if your current personality holds, you might just be the perfect museum buddy.  I have this dream of taking you to the Reina Sofia museum and showing you Picasso’s Guernica, which we would stare at for a long time (it’s a large painting and requires viewing from several perspectives).  Afterward maybe we could get a lemonade in the park.  Of course, if that doesn’t work out, I’ll let your dad take you to a playground or sporting event, hit the museum on my own, and meet up with you afterward.  Either way is fine with me.

I gave official notice at my job yesterday.  As of September 30, when my maternity leave expires, I will be a stay-at-home mom.  That’s such a funny thing.  I never in my life expected to be such a thing, and something tells me I’ll want to pick up some part-time work once you’re bigger, but for now it seems just right.  I so enjoy our mornings together when it’s just you and I and the house is quiet.  There are yellow leaves falling off the trees in our front yard now, and we have the window cracked so I can hear the branches rustling in the breeze.  Later, we’ll walk over crunchy acorns and pick up your brother at school.  I’ll probably bring a blanket to make sure you stay toasty in the stroller.  My summer baby has become a fall baby.

Photo by Gary Clarke

Staying home with you does mean a bit of a hit to our budget, so we’re probably more likely to go to museums in Chicago than Madrid for the time being.  That’s okay.  They have some nice Picassos at the Art Institute too.

Of course no one can say for sure just yet, but so far people are telling me you look like me.  That’s a nice boost, since you’re awfully cute, and people have been saying for 3 years now that your brother looks just like your dad.  I call you my little meatball, because you are round and savory and squishy.  At your two-week doctor’s appointment, you weighed nine pounds, which is a full pound up from your birth weight and a 1.5 pounds higher than you were when we left the hospital.  I’m so proud of you for eating and growing so well.  I like to say you’re a nicely-marbled little T-bone.

Today we enjoyed one of our favorite family fall traditions:  a trip to Wilson’s Orchard to pick apples.  You slept through the whole thing, but I hope you get a big kick out of it in the future.  The rest of us do, and being there as a family of four had a nice symmetry to it.  Next year, maybe you can even have a taste of apple.

For the time being, you just get carted around.  Today, we hauled you to the apple orchard.  Yesterday, I hauled you to HyVee and Willowwind.  Last weekend, we hauled you to Marion for Grammy’s birthday party.  We’ve hauled you to a lot of different restaurants and parks and the library and everywhere else we’ve needed to go.

And throughout it all, you were such a good boy.

Love for the rest of my life,

Photo by Jun-Nicole Matsushita

Mommy