thirteen weeks

It's so true what everyone says. The days are long (so so long), but the weeks and months are short. I really can't believe Knox is three months old. I can't believe we made it alive to the age that I remember with Surrey was when I felt like I could do it. Of course there's also a sense of ohmygoshI'msotiredhasn'thebeenhereforyears?! But, generally, it's surprising that he's growing so fast. 

And boy do I love the growth. Love that this kid is beefing up and love that he's becoming more of a real being. He's really a joy. Like you, I can't believe I'm saying that. I catch myself telling him, you're awesome, quite frequently. His smile and noises and charm are through the roof. Don't get me wrong, baby boy still knows how to wail and could stand to sleep longer and better on his own, but generally he's happy and content unless he's tired or hungry. We can all relate.

eleven and twelve weeks

Sorry, Mom.

We were traveling up to Pennsylvania when Knox turned 11 weeks and ran into the classic case of forgotten clipboard. So, belated weekly photo. Knox was one of two show-stoppers at the wedding we went to in Pennsylvania - the other being his sister. Maybe it was his baby blazer, maybe it was his sleek side part. Whatever it was, the twenty-somethings were swooning. He handled the attention and the bathroom floor diaper changes like a true gentleman. He continues to be happy and content for the most part, which is a such a joy.

In honor of his sister's third birthday, Knox posed on this tablecloth I had made for Surrey's baptism out of some of her weekly photo fabrics and then used again this past weekend for her birthday party. He's still mad he didn't get a donut or a slice of cake during the celebrations. One day buddy boy, one day. Following in Surrey's footsteps, the kid spits up like it's going out of style. Consequently, we're doing wash almost every day and no longer own any respectable, stainless articles of clothing. This Christmas I hope Santa actually becomes a real thing because we have some serious baby induced needs. Stain free clothes being one. 

diaper band-aid

This morning was not my most shining moment as a parent. Baby sleep trumps all in this household, but after this morning I may have to rethink that theory.

Knox and I dropped Surrey off at preschool at 9:00. Initially, Knox seemed unusually irritated in his car seat. Some might say he was writhing. Press on I told him, the red light would soon turn green and he'd be lulled to sleep by the moving car. It's ok, Knox. It's ok, Knox. Chill out little buddy. You see, we have gotten in a killer routine of baby boy sleeping in his car seat the entire morning and I'm not willing to give that up for a little fussiness.

If Knox had audible words (as opposed to inaudible?) he would've told me to shove it. Because three hours later, once we got home from picking Surrey up, I had to peel sweet boy's diaper off like a band-aid. I mean that seriously. Think about when you've ripped a band-aid off. Pulling it off, fighting the adhesion and wincing in pain with every millimeter slowly uncovered. Except this diaper band-aid's adhesive was caked-on, three-hour-old poop. Just, omg. I literally threw out the onesie and pants he was wearing. No laundry detergent can be expected to fix that. Ten minutes and two pounds of wipes later Knox was "cleaned" up (can one ever fully recover from such a mess - doubtful) and Surrey was almost in tears wondering where in the world her mac and cheese lunch was. 

Mac and cheese for Surrey, a bottle for Knox. Catching up on the morning at preschool over the lunch table. Admittedly, I was texting a good friend about my parenting fail. And then I noticed maybe the worst part of the whole thing - poop on the finger I was texting with. Poop on the hand I had prepped lunch with. Again, just, omg. Lesson learned: hand sanitizer cannot replace soap and water. It may be easier to manage while holding a baby, but from now on I will 100% of the time put the baby down in a safe place and opt for real deal hand washing.

Moral of the story: never underestimate initial car seat fussiness. And if you do, most definitely do not ignore the smell of spoiled milk coming from the car seat and child halfway through preschool freedom, even if waking up said child will ruin the morning's hope of a workout. You hate Jillian Michaels anyway.

ten weeks

Whoops, forgot to post! And now, I forget everything that happened last week. Must not have been too horrific, or if it was, I've successfully blocked it out. Either way - victory!