Well better late than never, right? Next week it will be time for his three months photos. I'll get those up around Christmas. Le sigh.
I know I am supposed to say one of the same old adages...'Time flies when your having fun' or 'I can't believe he's two months old already!'. But time really flies because I'm exhausted. And I can believe he's already two months because I am very familiar with how fast babies grow. And I tell myself everyday that I'm gonna miss this {cue sappy country song}.
Neither one of us was super stoked about taking his pictures that day. I think we were just plain tired. But there were some peeps of a smile.
At two months our little man weighs 13.5 pounds and is 23 7/8 inches long. His doctor proclaimed he was growing like a weed...and she wasn't just saying it the way knowing parents and grandparents say it about their wee ones. Seriously, kid's growing like a tree.
He is getting better at rolling over onto his back and is trying desperately to roll onto his tummy (gasp!) And he's starting to reach out for things and shows a love for his lovie (er...Ella's old lovie that she hated and that's actually pink and orange...I know, I know...I'll get him his very own as soon as I get around to it on my mile long to do list). He loves black and white and these little hanging toys that are bright colors. All you have to do is look at him and say hi and he gets a huge gummy grin on his face. He will coo and grunt if you talk to him and try to repeat the noises you make. He is very strong and holds his head up like a champ. We even got a comment at Target because he was holding his head up while facing out in the Baby Bjorn, he apparently doesn't like to be any other direction than looking out at the world. We've already put him in the jumperoo a bit early, just like Ella. He gets strapped into the "Taco" that helps fill the extra space since he's technically too small for it. And we have to put a box under his feet but he is so strong and already loves to jump and sway. I can't help but wonder if he will be an early walker like Ella. In which case I may run away. We still get pretty long stretches of sleep at night but if anything, he is consistently inconsistent. One night it's 5 hours, the next it's 9. And let's not even talk about naps...nothing has changed there.
It was the big shots time at his check up and I came super prepared. His doctor had given me a handout on sugar water to help ease the pain. So the night before, I packed every last detail of his diaper bag. Diapers..check. Blankets...check. Tylenol...check. Tylenol dropper with a bottle of 1 ounce of water to mix with sugar...check. Sugar packet (cuz ya know it's supposed to be measured out in grams, duh, no teaspoon business here)...ummmm...Babe, where's the sugar packets? Oh wait..we don't have sugar in our house. Splenda, Stevia, Truvia? Got tons of that, but not a sugar packet in sight. I was too tired to go get some so I just thought I'd run and get some in the morning. Um, no. Who has time in the morning with multiple children? In a panicked mess I drop off Ella at school and fearing that without the precious miracle of sugar water surely my son is going to lose his mind and be in the worst pain imaginable (have I mentioned my epidural didn't work during labor? That is the actually worst pain imaginable). I almost tearfully asked her teachers "Do ya'll have any spare sugar packets around?" They are used to me and my frantic-ness so they didn't skip a beat when answering my odd request. I left as the proud owner of 5 sugar packets. Have I made it clear the anxiety I had about this whole thing? If not, just picture "those" moms without makeup, wearing clothes from another century that don't stand a chance of matching, in the store with 8 kids clinging to their legs and hanging out of the cart, all screaming and pleading for toys, snacks, something. And the look on her face says it all. Yeah that was me, well I'm not sure whose kids those other 6 were.
Turns out my son has the same pain tolerance as my daughter. Those shots ain't got nothin on him. Except in the few seconds after they stuck him he silent screamed and stopped breathing long enough to turn blue. A new experience for me that had even the nurse looking worried. But seconds later he was all chill and smiling, like two scary big needles hadn't just punctured his tiny, chubby little leg. And once we got home? I was expecting the worst, lots of fussiness and lots of sleeping. Nope, I got neither. Even modified, killer diseases in a syringe can't make my kids sleep better.
By the end we were both done. Pooped, really.
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