Monday, July 20, 2015

Five months, and a weekend.

I took a vacation day on Thursday and worked from home on Friday, making the weekend feel very long. It was nice. Every day felt like a Sunday, except without the impending doom of Monday just around the corner. Instead, relaxed -- spending time at home with family, doing simple things like giving the baby a bath, drinking a beer out on the patio, going to Menards to look at shelving (We're turning our downstairs closet into a pantry! Hooray for kitchen organization!), lighting the grill while the sky turned pink and orange, then dark.


We went to my parents' house to visit my brother-in-law and niece in town from California. Ella asked to hold Little Murdo shortly after we walked through the door. She talked fast about elves and treasure and super grapes. She watched me breastfeed the baby, asking if it hurt if he bites. I told her he doesn't have teeth yet so I don't know, but probably, and she told me when she has kids, she'll adopt. I laughed.




On Friday, M turned 5 months old. He celebrated with sweet potatoes, lots of tummy time and laughs, and finally getting those toes in his mouth.





We went swimming at Murdo's parents' house and watched as huge white puffy clouds came rolling quickly overhead. "The kinds of clouds that make you realize the world could end you, just like that," I said to Murdo. The sky has a great way of reminding us how very, very small we are. But that's OK, because then you pick some tomatoes in your yard and realize that something as small and simple as a little red tomato plucked from the earth and held in your hand can be just as amazing as a big, big, untouchable sky.



We grilled steaks and veggies after putting the baby to bed. Murdo prepped the steaks and got the grill ready while I chopped vegetables and assembled and seasoned them in individual foil packets. For a moment it was just like a night from summers past, cooking a simple summer meal together and getting to eat it without interruption. It felt nice to get a piece of that life back. All the while, our little babe slept peacefully upstairs.

Weekends like this, with these guys. Wouldn't trade them for all the stars and clouds and colors in the sky.


Thursday, July 9, 2015

Lately.




We spent the July 4th weekend at our family lake house in Michigan. Murdo enjoyed napping on the boat, dipping his feet in the lake for the first time, and eating bananas out on the deck. I enjoyed Jack and gingers, Grapefruit Summer Shandys, and evenings by the fire while the baby slept like a champ. Also, I did not take a single photo of food. I don't even know who I am anymore. I keep telling myself to take more non-baby photos, but every moment I want to capture is wrapped up in him.







Speaking of food, Murdo started solids! So far: bananas, avocado and squash. He seems to like the bananas and squash the best, and is getting better at opening wide for the next spoonful. Little M got his first bite of food on his dad's 33rd birthday; last year, on Murdo's 32nd, I handed him a box with a little stick inside, with a faint little line that told us we were pregnant. Crazy how much changes in just a year.


This kid is all about standing and kicking. His new jumper makes him so so happy. He loves looking up and seeing the world from a different perspective, and getting a chance to work those leg muscles. 



Shortly after I proudly proclaimed M sleeping through the night and breastfeeding easy as pie, he started waking up at 3:30 in the morning and wanting bottles more than the breast. For the most part, he's still sleeping great, and I'll continue to breastfeed until at least six months. But I told myself that I'm not going to stress out about my milk supply anymore. No more guilt when we give him a bottle before his bedtime routine because he's crying hysterically, too impatient and too tired to wait for the breast milk to let down. No more feeling guilty because maybe I'm not pumping as much as I could be. I fed him a bottle myself for the first time since his first few weeks (he usually gets his bottles from his dad). I thought it would feel wrong, but then I realized: this isn't bad. He's eating, and he's happy, and he's healthy, and that's all that matters.