Oh Rufus, look what you're doing to us. I don't even know how to begin to explain the feelings that have been plaguing my body for the last few weeks. And I mean that pretty literally. I am physically exhausted from managing of the stress and excitement and frustration and love. Rufus, dear infuriating Rufus, has not been the cause of nearly all of those feelings. The totality of the blame can certainly not be placed on his shoulders. Besides, look at that sweet face!
The question that comes up in response to every proposed solution, however, is, "But what do we do with Rufus?" Do we give him up? Yes, he's too wild around the baby and will hurt him someday. No, we love him and he's part of our family. Do we board him long term? Hmmm, $$$$. Do we know someone who can keep him for a while? No! That dog is crazy! We can't ask someone to take on that kind of insanity, at least not if we want to still be on speaking terms when it's over. But Grandpa Weilhammer wants him. Well, at this point we aren't going to say no to anyone who's offering, but I hope they will let us know the second they can't take it anymore.
Rufus must go because we are moving in with Uncle Nick and Aunt Twyla on January 30th 2010. Will you ever sleep again? Will I? I am ridiculously grateful that we have family so willing to help us without a second thought. It's going to be rough, though- probably on everyone. I'm pretty sure you will cry at night for quite some time, since your crib will now be in our room. You have to sleep at some point, but you are a stubborn little bastard and I have personally seen you perform some amazing feats of wakefulness. And that was in your early days.
We have a house. A beautiful house with ugly carpet and a stream that runs through the backyard with foxes frolicking about. We cannot actually have our house until we sell the Palm Bay house. This stupid house that we once loved is now the source of all of our misery and most of my recent tears of late, which have been many. It will sell someday, probably for much less than we paid for it.
Your father keeps telling me that we have it good. No one is dying. Everyone is healthy and loved (especially you). Money problems are good problems to have. I know he's right. I know that the terrible, horrible, heart-wrenching events in Haiti should give me some perspective on our current situation. I guess I'm self-centered or egotistical or some other synonym of those words, but I tend to let my own problems affect me and I don't think that's unreasonable. I hate it when people tell me to think of all the people who are worse off. You lost your leg in a car accident? Think of the people who lost both legs, wouldn't that be awful? People's problems are their problems and they have a right to worry about them.
He IS right, though. We are lucky. We have you. And each other. And people who love us. Ultimately, that is all we need in the world. I just wish I didn't like money so damn much.
You are going to be sorely missed here in Southeast Florida. I have massive feelings of guilt about taking you away. You aren't really doing anything new at the moment. Maybe you're too preoccupied with exploration to focus on skill acquisition. Or maybe you're holding it all in until we get to Tallahassee to play some cruel joke on Grandma and Grandpa when they miss out.
I don't know, but you're a funny little thing. You make ridiculous noises and you laugh when you see me or your father enter a room. Slapping things is one of your favorite hobbies- table tops, chairs, faces, chests, dogs. Anything but drums, really. You waved yesterday!!!!!! How did I forget that? You waved bye-bye to KK and PaPa. New. New. New. New as of last night. I am a terrible mother.
You are appallingly good in restaurants. We take you with us everywhere. As long as you have Cheerios and can chew on the edge of the table, you're a little angel. We have probably left behind us a wake of bitter busboys who had to try to get Cheerio dust out of carpet.
I left you for (good god!) 8 hours last weekend to go to a wedding. Grandma says you were perfectly content. You took a bottle for the first time! You don't need me at all! This is a completely depressing new development. I missed you so much!
Grandma is on her way over so I'm gonna end this. I know everything will be ok. Although, by the time all this is over you might just have to call your aunt and uncle Saint Twyla and Saint Nick. Or perhaps Duke and Duchess....
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