I've missed you all, bloggers. I occasionally log on to catch up with what is going on in your lives. But until I can catch a real night's sleep, I can't justify much computer time.
Plus, its so much fun to play with my new baby. I remember Picky saying after her first baby was born that she loved everything about being a mom. Even the feeding and diaper changing. Admittedly, its all work, but its like the Peace Corp...the hardest job you'll ever love. I'll have to compare notes when my little brother gets back from his Peace Corp assignment in Kyrgyzstan (and then has a child.)
MMA has been insistent that I give my loyal mo fos an update.
Things are good.
Big Brother is adjusting, but its a process. He so wants to be both the big boy I need him to be and also my baby. He pretends to be a baby in the safety of our home but he is clear, this game is for our eyes only.
Today we wrote a story about a boy who gets a new baby brother; I wrote as he narrated. To paraphrase, the character in our story loves his baby brother, but gets grumpy and sometimes acts naughty because of all the changes in his family. Our little activity helped us both, I think. I'm reminded how much Big Brother loves me. Almost daily he tells me he is going to marry me when he grows up. I could just cry...can I bottle that stuff up?
Baby Brother is plumping up nicely. I love every fat roll on his little body. He's got those tight baby wrists where his hand meets his chunky arm. 'Love those wrists. So many kissable places, so little time.
He's also starting to follow me with his eyes. Sometimes I'll see him looking at me from across the room. When I turn my attention on him he just lights up!
We achieved a goal that I am very proud of, breastfeeding success. We did it! Around the three month mark, I realized, "Hey, we've got the hang of this" (more or less.) I don't know why this one deed is so tantamount to my feelings of adequacy as a mother, but it is. And I was not about to allow it to elude me this time.
I well know...we're not suppose to beat ourselves up about these things, but we all do. If it's not breastfeeding, its the "working mom guilt" or something else. This is not a new subject for me.
I think part of the problem is life zipping by. I'm still trying to juggle everything I used to do before and care for a baby. I keep telling myself, "I will do this" or "I will do that" when life gets back to normal. As if I could make a new little person, with his own agenda, quietly fit in to who we were as a family before he emerged.
Suddenly, it dawned on me, this is my life now. Baby brother changed us, and this is normal. Life just got busier and I need to make difficult choices about how I spend my time. Get in shape, so to speak. Whine less. Eliminate clutter in every form. Superstar has no resolutions this year! Just a promise to myself to blow lots of raspberries on a soft round tummy and play trains for at least a few minutes every day with full enthusiasm. And to stop worrying about things that don't involve God and family.