Fischer is getting so big it kills me. Like literally breaks my heart into a million and one pieces so that I die. literally die. I'm trying to be ok with him being my last, I really am, but to say I'm in mourning is an understatement. I would have babies forever if my sanity could get away with it. Oh well, c'est la vie. In the meantime, I'm just trying to soak his baby-ness in. I look at him and try to memorize every small little detail. I just breathe in his baby sent and rub his baby softness. I realized a couple of months ago when I picture my other kids as babies, I don't really remember very much. When I picture them, I'm actually picturing photos or movies we've taken of them. Those moments I captured on film. It's a very sad, scary thought, but it makes me soooo grateful for the photos I do have and for this blog.
Anyway, back to Fischy. He's finally starting to plump up a bit. We're up to 12lb 7oz now and 2%. We're finally getting some thigh and wrist creases, even if not full-on rolls. He's almost entirely on formula (we nurse about once a day, or so). It makes me a little sad that he's done nursing so early, but it's rewarding to see him finally get a little bigger, so that kind of makes up for it (although how 'bout the price of formula...yikes!). Poor little man is currently fending off an earache, but he's normally such a happy baby and super-duper social. He definitely prefers to be held, though. He's lucky to have 4 older siblings who are (mostly) willing to hang out talking to him when I need to set him down. Fischer has the darkest eyelashes and eyebrows. He has a tiny dimple on the back of his ear lobe. His fingernails are always splitting down the center for some reason. He has such long, skinny feet (just like Scarlett's were). Fisch has lost pretty much all of his baby hair, but he has a velvety layer of dark hair coming in. Seeing that makes me ridiculously happy. While Spencer and I are both dark-haired now, he was actually blonde as a kid and I've always been brunette. So, when I have brown babies (only Scarlett and Fischer), it makes me extra-happy. I see so little of myself in my children that it makes me extra happy. When he sleeps and his cheeks go slack, so he looks a little more angular, he looks just like Miss S did when she was a baby. It's craziness. I've never had matching babies before.
As for Oak...he's a crazy. Like a real-life actual crazy-pants. I honestly don't know what to do with him. He doesn't hesitate to push anything and anyone out of his way. He's definitely got a little dog complex going on and doesn't realize that the 8 year old girl at chick-fil-a whose shoes he's trying to steal is actually twice his size. I read Mark Twain's quote the other day, "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." and immediately thought of Mr. O. It's funny, a guy in our ward consistently refers to him as Mighty Oak. I couldn't think of a better nick-name for him if I tried. He's just such an intense personality. He laughs loud, plays hard, hits harder, loves passionately, and spends his day running literal circles around me. I love him so darn much, but he just bewilders me. I'm thiiiis close to shipping him off to his Uncle Eric and they can go live in the woods together until he's ready to come home and re-join civilized society. The only thing stopping me is the fear he'll end up even more feral than he already is.
I'm currently stuck in the fog that is postpartum depression. I've upped my zoloft a bit and I'm just trying to make it through to the other size. The good thing about having done this twice before (post-Ezra and -Scarlett) is that 1-I actually recognized it this time around and 2-I know it doesn't last forever. I started to feel like my old self by about 8 or 9 months postpartum with those two and I'm hoping I follow the same trend this time around. Right now, I'm just trying to get through the day in one piece; I'm very much in survival mode. The holidays helped for a bit, but January is always kind of a depressing month and the hormones aren't helping. I haven't lost a single friggin' pregnancy pound since I came home from the hospital 4 1/2 months ago. I've never had this happen before and the whole thing has me quite flummoxed. It's definitely not helping my mood any, to say the least. I'm really trying hard, though, to exercise and eat better. Hopefully I'll start seeing some results soon. I have a solid 25 pounds to go.
I recently discovered this blog. I love, love, love it. She just gets it. The depression. The frustration. The joy. The insanity. all of it. I highly recommend you check it out.
Well, I think I've managed to pour the thoughts out of my head, so I guess that's it for today. Thanks for reading my mental meanderings. Sometimes a girl's just gotta write.
Here's a few pictures in for kicks and giggles. Some you might recognize from facebook/instagram, but I like them enough to share them here too. Plus it's easy...and right now, easy is about all I can handle. Enjoy!
me, on a 50s housewife sorta day
Fischer's first time in the bumbo
(and Ezra photobombing)
Georgia's long-awaited first lost tooth
(she pulled it out herself at 9:30 at night)
Oak helping Spencer fix the dishwasher. He hung out the whole time with a wrench in his hand "helping"
Spencer and Ezra during an intense game of chess
nothin' I like more than a little boy in big boy jammies
The little mommy with her baby