Hey look, I’m blogging! Oh how I’ve missed this. Every weekend I tell myself this is it, this is when I’m going to get back on track with my writing and then Monday comes sans post and I feel all sad and unaccomplished. Forget that what I actually did accomplish in my two days off was spending oodles of time with my family who I get to see for all of 2.5 – 3 hours a day during the week and getting the tiniest bit of extra sleep through later mornings and afternoon naps—that’s not enough for this overachiever. In fact right now, against my better judgment, I’m foregoing said afternoon nap so that I can do some light strength training and work on this post at the same time. I don’t feel too sad about the lost z’s because everyone else in the house is asleep and you know that means? It’s quiet. A remarkable phenomena that I never quite appreciated until I became a parent.
So yeah, two kids! When the hell did that happen? But seriously, it’s great. I have so much to say! I hate not blogging for so long. More details in subsequent posts. For now I stick to the basics. Like, my hair is falling out. A joyous postpartum treat that most women must endure. As if all that you go through during pregnancy topped off with at least six weeks of newborn hell isn’t enough punishment for the female gender, they (you know, the masters of evolution) threw in a few fun little surprises like the mass exodus of your mane about three months after baby makes his debut. The really awesome part is when it starts growing back in and your face is framed with awkwardly short hairs dancing around in every possible direction. Ahhh the beauty of motherhood. Maybe in a year or so I’ll look like myself again, once the under-eye bags subside, all of my hairs have reached an acceptable length, and the extra pounds I’m still carrying have been worked off (34 down, 14 to go!). At least Crosby is super adorable and happy right now. Women with ugly, angry babies must really hate life. Hey! There’s one thing pregnancy didn’t take from me…my glorious sarcasm.
Crosby is 12 weeks old today. He’s such a good baby. Full of smiles, sleeps fairly well for his age, rarely a fussy moment that can’t be cured with food, a diaper change or simply cozying up in our arms. And when all else fails there’s the bathroom rug. I have no explanation for this. I can’t even say it’s the rug itself because we’ve gotten a new rug in our bathroom since we discovered this preference of his and he is equally content. He likes being flat on his back? Perhaps to an extent, but no other location provides such consistent instant calm. The temperature? The windows? The light fixtures? Who cares! All that matters is that it almost always works. Or rather has worked, for just in the past couple days this little man has started to do quite a bit of scooting when left on his back with room to maneuver. He scooted his fuzzy little head right off that rug and onto the hardwood floor which he quickly let us know was not the least bit enjoyable. But for the most part he’s flexible and can be be happy almost anywhere at least for some number of minutes. Except in the swing. He pretty much hates the swing. Norah didn’t care for it either. What a lovely $150 toy for Norah’s baby dolls we have. Hello Craigslist?
Ta ta for now! Elderland out. XO.