I’m still here…
I feel like I’m calling out to a universe that no longer knows I exist. This is what has happened to my blogging life.
The other thing that has happened is that all the things I think about writing seem to fall out of my head in the time between thinking about them and actually getting to sit down and write.
So here are some things going on:
- My life is nursing, laundry, washing bottles and pump parts, pumping to stock up on breastmilk, changing diapers, and entertaining an ever-increasingly brilliant (no, I’m totally not biased) three month old.
- We’ve gotten so familiar here at my in-laws’ that it’s normal for my father-in-law, when I go to feed Georgia, to say “boob or bottle?”
- While I’m only about seven pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight and I feel good about that, I’m the most out of shape I’ve ever been. Laughing hard is a crazy work out for my abs. Which is really really sad.
- Re: the above bullet, I keep telling myself I’ll do sun-salutations and free weights and stuff and then it gets to the end of the night and I’m like, oops…
- Re: the above two bullets, getting into fighting shape is hard when you don’t work out and eat more rice krispy treats than you’re comfortable with.
- For the first time in my life, I actually have a sweet tooth. I’ve become obsessed with chocolate chip cookies. I have no self-control. None. Zero.
- We constantly play a game called “whose glass is this?” between all four of our water glasses. My mother-in-law has taken to labeling hers, like so:
Life is clearly rockin’ over here.
Meanwhile, Georgia is three months old and ridiculously adorable and amazing. What she lacks in consistency (ahem, daytime schedules), she more than makes up for in smiles and attempts at conversation and her very very distinctive and so so cute personality. She’s stubborn, she’s social, she’s alert, she’s cuddly, and all things considered, she really is a pretty easy baby.
Things she loves:
- being in a group of people.
- her mama.
- her daddy.
- her fist. It is constantly in her mouth.
- grabbing my hair, nose, skin, clothing…
- cooing and kicking.
- her purple hippo lovie that I put in her carseat with her. She snuggles it close to her. It’s adorbs.
Things she hates:
- being hot.
- being cold.
- being hot in her carseat (this has proven to be the worst. The WORST. It’s pretty awful having her scream bloody murder in the car when I can’t do a damn thing about it. This summer is going to be rough…)
Oh, and…this is really bad, you guys…she loves TV. Loves it. This is not my intention…but I’m a TV-in-the-background-as-company type of person, so I often have it on and I’ve seen her on occasion just kind of spacing out and watching it. And of course, what are the things I’m watching most? Beverly Hills reruns and constant marathons of any of the Real Housewives series. Mother of the Year? I think so! God help this poor child. Truth be told I think she just likes the lights and movement, but if she grows up and has cheesy blonde extensions, starts fights in public places, and moves to LA in search of Casa Walsh, I’ll be in real trouble.
In the meantime, we’re getting along just fine.
Now, off to pump! (and the cycle starts again…)