photo friday: new addition

9 Mar

Dear Eamon,

A week ago you made your way into the world, only one day later than you were supposed to, thanks to the miracles of modern science.

Your dad called to tell me the good news as Swede and I sat on the porch of Walnut House, our DC abode, enjoying cocktail hour, which obviously turned into a YAY THE BABY GOT BORN celebration. I asked your dad eagerly, “What’s his name?! What’s his name?!?” Over the past nine months, I’ll have you know, I guessed every other name in existence, as well as some that are not, to no avail. I think Eamon was the only name I didn’t guess, though I did manage to get a correct answer when playing the guessing game for your middle name.

That’s neither here nor there, really, as I’ve decided to call you Ronnie Bass, or, on days I’m feeling spunky, Sunshine.

(You can thank your Aunt Lizzy also for that one. We’ll explain later, when you’re better able to understand the simple and sincere relationship we have with heart-warming sports movies. You’ll be receiving a copy of Hoosiers for your first birthday.)

(You’re welcome.)

The doctors were mildly concerned about your oxygen levels when you were born, because you came out so quickly. Their concerns were quickly put to rest, thankfully. I could have told the doctors that, though, as you screamed your little face off in the background as I talked to your dad.

You came home on Sunday, and on Monday I got to meet you in person. You slept in a little bundle in my arms. Annnd…that’s it. That’s all you did. Was sleep. Well, that’s not true, you cocked an eye half-open for a split second, and I imagine blurrily sensed that the person holding you was vaguely like your mom so it was all cool, ergo safe to go back to sleep. You also thrust the occasional Power To the People fist in the air. Are you crafting plans for some sort of coup? You and the dog, taking over the house? Standing tall for the cause, even though you cannot yet hold up your own head? What cause do you even have? You’re a week old, for God’s sake. Talk to me when you’re 12.

Now that you’re here, you’ve usurped the Baby of the Family position from your brother, which he usurped from me. I’ve almost forgiven him. So far Chicken Nugget seems to find your presence a good thing, and often likes to announce that either A) he is going to have a baby brother soon (at which point we have to remind him that his baby brother is already here) or 2) You are his baby brother Eamon. Any time you make a noise, crying or not, Chicken Nugget will turn to the nearest adult and ask concernedly, “What’s he trying to say?”

Oh, if only we knew what you were trying to say, little Eamon Jude. Your face is so expressive when you scrunch up your nose and your forehead, making you look even more like a little old man in a nine-pound body. I wonder what’s going on inside that little brain of yours.

I don’t know, but I do know what’s going on in mine: We are all so, so glad you are here, and I love you very tremendously much.


Aunt Molly

Power to the people, mah bitches.



6 Responses to “photo friday: new addition”

  1. Solitary Diner March 9, 2012 at 1:15 AM #

    What a beautiful post. Congratulations on being an aunt again. It’s such a wonderful thing.

    • mollystrz March 9, 2012 at 8:41 AM #

      Thanks, SD. I’m a pretty lucky lady!

  2. The Swede March 9, 2012 at 9:08 AM #

    He’s a cutie.

  3. Steph March 9, 2012 at 4:37 PM #

    So sweet! You’re a nice aunt. 🙂

  4. Lindsay March 14, 2012 at 8:56 PM #

    Awww, I love this post!!! Soo cute! Little EJ will love this one day 🙂 – of course, when he’s 12 and standing up for a cause :). Like bringing chocolate milk back to school cafeterias nationwide :).


  1. on potty training when they’re not even your kids « - January 16, 2013

    […] ordeal, because I no longer have the cause to ask him the question, “Did your dupa explode?”* Ronnie Bass better start speaking soon, is all I have to […]

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