A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
I’m overdue on this… but what else is new. Suck it up Ashley, suck it up.
Growth: You’re in size three diapers. Just for the record, your brother is in size four. He’s almost TWO years older than you. You’re in size 3-6 month clothing, growing faster than my hatred toward Chloe Kardashwhatever as co-host on the X-Factor.
Appearance: Your right ear sticks out a little more than your left. Not to worry, when your hair grows in no one else will be able to tell. That is, until your hair falls out and all the little old ladies in the nursing home come to know you as the little old man whose right ear sticks out further than his left. You have a funny profile, not to worry, head on you’re cute as a button. Your eyes are turning brown and your hair is coming in thick and brown. Your brother’s hair didn’t turn blond until 7 or months, so time will tell if yours will do the same. Your skin is fair, invest in sunscreen.
Sleeping: We’re still swaddling you at night. Most nights you manage to sneak one or both of your arms out and I awaken to the sound of you sucking your fingers. You rarely cry upon waking. I feed you around 9:30pm and put you down in your crib around 10:15pm. You sleep until 6am, give or take an hour, then feed again and go back to sleep for another few hours. Some days you nap, others you don’t. So long as you sleep through the night, I don’t really care what you do during the day.
Eating: Feeding you has been nothing short of annoying lately. I remember Hooper going through the same stage. I know it’s developmental, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. You’ve entered the distracted nursing phase. You know, where everything to the right or left or north or south is more interesting than the nipple your mom keeps trying to shove in your mouth. Any little noise or movement sparks your interest and your little legs never stop kicking. We’ve resorted to using the handheld vaccuum to distract you enough to get you to latch. Even then, however, you fling off the boob and appear to be done after only a few minutes of nursing. When this happens, I pump to avoid getting a clogged duct or compromising my supply. It’s a real pain in the ass to be breastfeeding and pumping, so if you could concentrate a little harder, I sure would appreciate it.
Oh yes, and you spit up. A lot.
I’ve been referring to our mornings as of late as the triple threat mornings. That’s because at 6 am, before the sun has risen, I give you a bottle, then breastfeed, then pump. And it’s exhausting. Your Papa grew too frustrated with the bottle training effort so I took over. I’ve found that you’re more inclined to take the bottle first thing in the morning, before you’re able to recognize the artificial nipple being pushed in your mouth. We call these recreational feedings because I’m only giving you an ounce of pumped milk from the day before and only for the sole purpose of solidifying and reinforcing your bottle drinking skill. So far, so good. You drink it relatively fast and then I stick you on the boob. The triple threat mornings take around 45 minutes and are part of the reason I’ve been so exhausted lately. Fortunately, we only do the bottle a coulpe times a week but rest assured, the breastfeeding and pumping schedule is enough to take a few zzz’s off my life.
Development: You’ve found your fingers and you love them. You favor the same two fingers on your left hand as your brother, which baffles my mind. You suck those things all day long. You’re able to lift your head when you’re in your car seat to see your feet. You’ll also doing well with sitting in your bumbo. You can lift your head up when laying on your tummy and it seems that you are thinking about rolling, but have yet to take the plunge.
Your right leg never stops kicking and your right arm never stops fist pumping. It’s just yo’ thang. Looks like you’re constantly peddling a bike with your right foot.
You’ve also started smiling and giggling. A lot. You love being in the company of others and seem to fuss anytime you are left alone in a room. All in all, you fuss very little and are quite a peaceful little booger.
Having kids does funny things to you. They seem to bridge the gap over remember when that was so fun and who the hell cares. When I was a kid, I lived for Halloween. I even remember bringing an extra pillow case one year and getting double the candy by saying I was collecting candy for my sister who was sick at home. Then there were the years I spent arguing that dressing up was overrated and I let the festivities fall to the wayside. Now that I’m a mom, I’ve come full circle. Candy corn rocks my world and I bought pumpkins for the first time in years. I even made a special Halloween cake. Who am I? And somehow it’s all even more fun than it was when I was a child to watch my own kids celebrate the holiday. Is it even a holiday? (Rhetorical question)
We went trick or treating to a few homes in neighborhood, which Hoop thoroughly enjoyed. Then we came home and Hoop organized his loot into neat piles and then rearranged his piles over and over again. He ate a lollipop and was probably one of the happiest kids on earth. We handed out candy, ate a nice dinner, and then I enjoyed my cake. Can’t wait til’ next year, when both of my members will be knockin’ on neighbor’s doors. Hope everyone had a fun night! Feel free to share your links, would love to see your little ones all dolled up!
